There is an inch, maybe more, of snow on the ground, and the snow continues to fall. It is a beautiful sight, the first snowfall always is, as are normally the second, third, fourth, and fifth ones, but this one is particularly beautiful for its unexpectedness. I had not been paying attention to the weather and was unaware this was to occur and to wake up this morning, look out my window, and see white on roofs, on window ledges, on car roofs, on streets, was such a pleasantly shocking sight.
I haven't been writing here or elsewhere in a long time, haven't been doing so with the same zeal even when I have. I have been going through some changes, am still going through them, and have been unable to write about them because they aren't so much consciously set changes as things that events, time, and perhaps the stars are setting for me, and I am slowly trying to resituate myself in a way that enables happiness and a sense of meaning.
I am reading Yukio Mishima's Confessions of a Mask right now and it is helping to see some things, to see situations I find myself in and to wonder what ideal situations would be, and also, since ideal situations so rarely occur, how I could find space for happiness in situations that are attainable. The book details the early stages of recognizing homosexuality so well. The main character's experiences and the contours of his frustrated desires are something that I recognize so well. It is always a pleasure to come across experiences that you had forgotten about, the pleasure of watching that tough boy in your gym class for instance, and to come across them written about so intelligently and well! The book, also, is making me excited about reading, and, what I believe its corrolary is when you are really excited about a text, writing.