LA LA LA LOTHLORIEN!!!!!

Dear reader, I feel that we have become very close over these past four months, and especially in the spirit of this holiday season, I feel moved to confess to you one of my deep dark secrets: I love Enya. Oh, yes. It's not just that I don't mind it if her music is playing. Catch me in the right mood and I'll be humming along in raptures. I especially like those tracks when she sort of rocks out, seriously, it sends my spirit up to Parnassus to sip manna with all of the younger, hotter Greek gods.

And the undertones of comedy that accompany anyone so breathily sincere are very comforting in emotionally turbulent times. Today I was driving in between Christmas celebrations with the two sides of my family, and I listened not only to "The Memory of Trees" but "The Celts." I found myself imagining the occasions that inspired Enya. That peppy track with the "La La La" must be intended to commemorate the epic voyage of the Yellow Rubber Ducky from one side of the tub to the other. This very solemn song, with lots of people intoning somber Latin phrases to a slowly plucking harp, must be trying to convey the heaviness of soul that falls upon you when somebody else has eaten the last slice of fruit cake, that you put in the fridge specially to save for later, and they knew it, too. And this serene, ethereal track, with the chorus that sounds like a choir of slightly drunken, very repetitive Hallmark angels, must surely be intended to convey the oceanic calm that follows when you've been constipated and you've just had a really good shit.