Sunday, November 19, 2006

aerial ballet

There was a day last week when a long sleeve shirt was enough. A few days ago, a sweatshirt. Yesterday, a jacket. There are shades of gray throughout the day before they fade to the darker darkness of night. Most of the leaves have fallen from the trees, save for the ginkgos, which still have some yellow leaves on their branches, for some reason the last of the leaves to fall. I can't believe that Thankgiving is in less than one week, cannot believe it because then it is December, then Christmas, and then a new year, all coming one on top of the next, always coming faster then you (or, at least I) expect.

And this has me nervous for several reasons, one of course being my recent thoughts and terror about death and its unpreventableness, the forward march of the calender proof of this unavoidability. There are thankfully other reasons that make me nervous, that this is not all that occupies my thoughts, musings about death not too different from the musings I had about it at the age of fifteen. I can't believe that so much time has gone by, that 2006 is almost over and the goals I had set out for myself at the beginning of the year again seem like they will be unrealized, and so I have a month to get myself into high gear, to try to make some positive changes in my life so that when 2007 to soon rears its head, I won't be lamenting my lack of activity in 2006.

I did find a job more along the lines of what I would like to be doing, but my goal is to find one more in line with what that goal is very soon. Physical activity is going to start happening somehow. I am going to write more and have set up some a method of encouraging this with a friend with a similar goal.

And on and on with more goals that bore you, that you have heard before, that you tell yourself also when you are evaluting your own life, but it's fall and these thoughts are inevitably brought on around this time of year, the change in the physical landscape forcing you to contemplate the landscape of your own life, of what leaves should fall.

There is that, or perhaps there is the more obvious fact that I got fairly drunk last night, danced a bit, and these are simply hungover thoughts, that these would be occuring in spring or summer, that the season is irrelevent, that it's the hangover, stupid, that it's the Harry Nilsson playing on your speakers.

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