October 2004 Archives
Hey, Happy Halloween.
Here's to the gold in the leaves and the orange curve of pumpkins. The glow of a candle flame and the swirl of woodsmoke. Here's to apples and cider and the slant in the sunshine. To costumes and candy, ghost stories and the harvest moon. Here's to vivid stars at night and bright blue skies in the day.
And to the deepening of the year.
Boo!
"Oh what a world..."
Feeling restive and unconnected, I cleaned up. On Wednesday, I stood in the dewy grass out front and stared up at the inky sky. I watched the dusky, red-shadowed moon. The night was very quiet. I had to keep moving my head, shifting my view, because the newly-bare tree branches formed a black lace, over the eclipse.
Tonight I was...adrift. I got creative with my supper -- and it actually turned out ok. Afterwards, I sat in the quiet for a while.
Then I made a cinnamon swirl coffee cake and some chocolate pudding for everyone. I feel so domestic. Halfway through my treat-making festival, I poured myself a glass of wine. I'm still sipping it now.
And thinking about the times we don't get back...and the total number of moments we have.
It's been a helluva year.
So. Thinking...
The day was pristine (though some of the harvest colors are shifting grayward, as leaves fall free of branches).
Still. Towering blue skies and all that.
Earlier, a small ash-colored bird fluttered up to perch on my windowsill. Cocking its smooth head to the side, it watched me typing away.
I said "hi".
I've been thinking of painting again. I've been grooving to the Spoon track on the free Wired music cd that came with the November issue of that magazine. I have been gradual, this week.
It is night now, and the wine is a swirl on my tongue.
Thinking, still.
"I've got stuck in the words..."
Bending, earlier. Got a skirling twinge in my lower back -- muscles clenching up like blind fists. Gingerly in the movement now.
Figures.
I'm tired and my voice is newly intermittent. (Had some steaming green tea for that a bit ago. Things don't feel especially better.)
Saw this. Took this.
At this second (now passed) I feel (felt) like screaming and dancing until I am (was) damp with sweat. Repeating on my stereo is a song about art and time. It is driving and lovely. It was free. Had I the technology, I would remix it into a grinning howl.
Dancing to it, in a storm, until the rain and sweat were falling the same.
"This is just a simulation..."
Large spans of this year have been dim and sad. Grayish, shadow-filled hours. I look back on them (and ahead to some other things) and feel emptilly mournful. Washed-out.
Here's a deep wish for better times ahead.
Goodbye, Uncle Jack.
We'll miss you...
Now here's a pretty thing...
Seemed worth a post.
Cold.
In my hands, and feet. Around my shoulders. The air, surging against the house, swirling Autumn-tinted leaves in fluttering waves. Bright wide sunlight pouring down from a sky that is releasing heat like clouds of birds flocking to other places. In the empty hours of this Sunday afternoon the biggest surge of heat came from the oven, as I put on their food. The tip of my nose is like a dog's. My lips are dry.
I feel empty with the chill. There is the echo of a headache ghosting around in my distance.
Everything else?
Well, everything else is quiet. And probably warmer.
The twilight is a veil, decorated by gray rain. The green, behind, looks both deeper and more imaginary -- at the same time. Now the distant murmur of thunder. The sky is low wet cotton, with nearly all its blue leeched out. An almost invisible fall of water is whispering to itself, while the traffic frets on the highway. Lots of headlights...streetlights soon to shine. The storm gets a bit sharper...then fades back. As the streets get glossy, the dimness grows. The candle in my window has awakened, its electric eye sensing the watery erasure of daylight.
In the nearby future, I will have red soup, steaming on the stove. Sandwiches to accompany. And beets in a bowl, with vinegar and onions.
The lights, inside, are bright. As the outside falls away.
Got a vague blur in the sensorium, a little dizzy swirl if I move too fast. Still feel warm...but not as bad as Monday. On the upside, my nose has almost stopped running.
Ah, headcold hillarity.
My computer fans are a purr that could lull me to sleep in about ten minutes -- if I'd close my eyes and drift. Too pretty an evening for that, though.
I should probably get out in that air, soak up a bit of the Autumn evening shine. I should open my blinds and let that Tuesday light into this dusty room. Then take a walk in the yard.
I probably will.
On this vivid, crystal-clear day I can hear the fountain trickling, feel a breeze teasing, and sigh a bit myself -- 'cause I think I've managed to convert my Movabletype installation to one that uses a MySQL database.
I know. I feel like such a geek.
Still, this should make future upgrades and such smoother on The Allurium (assuming that this entry posts as planned).
Other than that, I'm planning on getting out and watching the presidential debate tonight.
And maybe having a shot of tequilla...yeah, that'd be cool...
It is cool inside. So I went out.
The air was more welcoming on the deck, gentle against the skin. The sunlight: crisp. There was warmth out there.
Classic Bowie is my soundtrack now.
I think I need more of that air. That shine. Feeling kinda groovy, though I don't know why.
Hello October...
We have to stop meeting like this.
Or...
It's Pixies, tonight. Where is my mind? Still kinda jittery -- that's been a ghost around me all day. That and coldness. Skimmed bits of Fight Club (which stirred up the Pixies yen). Now, it's mostly dark. The candles have gone out. Almost everything is shut down in here. I'm finding the stereo remote by touch.
The desire for sleep is pressing through earlier tonight. Less cohesion in the word-flow. Man. Do I need a hair cut.
It has been an odd couple of days for me, and now it's October. I don't know what to think about that. Cohesion again (and lack, thereof).
I need something that I can't quite put my finger on.
