November 12th, 2007


What Again

I used to spend a lot of time staring at blank pieces of paper. A blank piece of paper is much easier on the eyes than a blank text box on a computer monitor. Neither does a blank piece of paper provide the proximate temptation of teh entire Intarnets only a click away.

There was something about how the gray this afternoon tried to drag me into nostalgia but failed because I just didn't have the time. I wanted it not to fail. Time-deprived or not, I always consider nostalgia a prerogative when November comes around. Some indulgence in melancholy memory is necessary this time of year or one misses the whole seasonal atmosphere, and then it might as well be some other time I won't say spring.

Not a star visible tonight, the rumpled dimness is there again, slow clouds turning back a bit of the town's escaped light, and muffling the surprisingly soft air. The pavement now wears a scattering of pine needles which tend to slip slightly underfoot. I like to imagine sliding on them, speeding down the street, astonishing the neighbors, startling the dogs into frenzied barking. The time demands something out of the ordinary. Otherwise it just gets lost it seems in other years.