The coldness ... an inappropriate choice of words. Seeing people on 41 in huge, wintercoats also an inappropriate thing. Chilly, yes. But cold, not hardly. Everything is relative, I guess though - and so this could be cold since normally it is sunny tank top weather. But yes, yes - the chilliness of late is doing something to me, to you, to all of us - and what it is doing is a good thing, a damn good thing making us aware, or at least more so, of our existences, of life in general and what any of it may or may not mean. I can walk along late at night and shiver slightly, can get the little goosebumps and feel the chill, the rush of life, of living, of me here, here right here in this not entirely warm enough shirt. Here in this inadequate shirt, we all shiver with delight. And it all makes me think of high school - this is what the weather was like in all of high school, in my recollected memories, it is this weather, just more gray. Getting dark at around five o'clock. Things seeming to be a little more silent, the streets, the skies - activity seems to be a little more sedate all around. And the slightly chilly weather. It was definitely chilier, but this is enough, the weather is enough to bring up those memories, to make me feel the ecstatic broodiness that this type of weather allows for. I have been more free with my body in this weather, have been craving hugs, sometimes even giving them, because there are all these memories of early morning rides on school buses, of waiting for them, of listening to the Cure's Staring at the Sea eight million times because that is what the weather, what life called for, and I need to be reassured, need to feel the warmth of someone else, but even more so, share this warmth, find some conclusiveness in a hug, that all of this is meaningful and true. And that is what it has been calling for again, right now. Because I am sixteen again and in that in-between with the knowledge that in a relatively short period of time, I will be out of yet another stifling educational institution and so I sing along to the Smiths and to Robert Smith and masturbate covertly at all hours of the day, whenever I can find the privacy, because my friend, that is what is what the weather, what life is calling for, for this.
Friday, November 8, 2002
Just because there may be something, some bit of truth in all of it, I am going to try my damnedest, am going to do my best to see this, this truth, and to live like I know it, like I am a New Romantic in a David Bowie video, dancing in costume, living. In my Romantic Novel class today, I was distracted by the silliness of it all, by how silly Jane Austen can seem when placed next to Russians, when placed next to Greeks, hell - even when placed next to Franco-Czechs. I was looking at my notebook littered with Greek to English translations transcribed during Greek class, sentances that I am currently unable to translate on my own, but which hopefully by the end of this weekend which will be filled with diligent studying, I will be able to. And there were so many beautiful proverbs there, so much of this knowledge. One of them saidThere is no possession greater than a friend. I mean, and that is just the one I can remember right now.
at 10:29 AM