December 2002 Archives

I have read a book of poetry, through this Christmas time, called, "A Mind of Winter: Poems for a Snowy Season". Some beautiful stuff, there.

Things here, however, are not that snowy at the moment. Earlier today the air almost felt Springlike. Now, in the afternoon of the last day of the year, the air is murky gray, like water under clouds. All traces of earlier snows have melted. I can hear birds -- though the outside looks wet and flat, like ten a.m.

That hourly accelleration kicked in again, right around Thanksgiving. Time swirled by, faster and faster. Pumpkin pie in November, then a jump-cut to Christmas and fast forward to New Year's Eve.

Last Summer seems an eternity away. A myth of heat and greening.

2003 is pressing against the present through a barrier as fine as silk now. Each tick of the clock thins that division more. All these hours, here, in this journal, flutter around like birds ready to migrate. They seem detached now, adrift from their source year. The Book of Hours will soon have a new chapter.

At this moment I am typing (as I am prone to do) and drinking warm coffee. Soon I'll be getting ready to spend the night with friends. I'm looking forward to Champagne at midnight and a fresh span of time to explore and enjoy.

I wish safety and good health, happiness and prosperity, inspiration and (never last) love to you -- in all the moments of the coming year.

Happy New Year.

As it gets dark, the Christmas lights come on -- in batches, spots. Here and there and, eventually (as the night gets more fully established) large swaths of multicolored shapes and forms. You can see some displays from far away; others are more subdued. All are worth a look, though.

The night gets deeper, more cold, and the lights go out. Timers or switches flicking to "off". There's a reverse to the evening light up...a light down, perhaps.

And the night gets quiet. And dark.

It's Christmas Eve and my presents are wrapped.

At the moment, I feel like I should be sipping a glass of red wine -- but I'm chewing gum and drinking cold water, instead.

The holidays sure have bounced up quickly again. Things have been busy, but there is a sense of culmination at this point. Most of my tasks are done; now I want to click "on" to savoring mode. And slow down to feel the moments. They cycle by just as quickly.

So.

I'm thinking of that red glass...and maybe settling in with a book I have on my "To Read" stack. Ray Bradbury's, From the Dust Returned...

Here's to a slow and very happy Holiday.

12:30 AM

Happy Birthday to me baby, yeah! It's dark and glimmery outside, a night/early morning of cold rain and mist. Melting snow sinking into inky black shadows. I'm sleepy and am just going to update a few things online before hitting the hay. I'll be back for more Tangerine interludes during the day...

2:00 PM

Well, I realized that I could just upload this, bit-by-bit, as I write it. So that's what I'm going to do, now.

It's kind of a pale afternoon; a day the color of melting snow (of which there is quite a lot around here). I'm having a cup a coffee and getting ready to do a little cleaning up. At some point during this afternoon I want to finish up my restaurant write-ups (for the last few months I've been doing dining and event write-ups for AOL/Digital City). I hope to visit the last of my venues for this month over the weekend and then have everything done by Monday.

So that's my plan for this afternoon.

3:35 PM

Hmm, things are dragging a bit. Regarding the extremely exciting account of my cleaning excursion: that journey is halfway done. Only the forbidding realm of the bathroom awaits...

And as for the writing...well, none of that is done yet. I really should get at least part of that out of the way, today. Here's hoping!

As for the day, well it is almost exactly as it has been. Pale and melty, though the light now has a bit more clarity. I need a glass of cold water.

And a time machine...

5:26 PM

The skies are a blue so deep and vague that it is almost black, nearly vanishing into starlight. Patches of snow shine brighter now, in contrast. And Christmas lights glimmer, spots of color on the ground.

It is, relatively, quiet. And the spaghetti is cooking.

Time for a glass of wine...

12:47 AM

Snowflakes can meander, but they move by fast all the same. A year is a crystal construct like that, prone to melting away. Too. So are these hours, starting in darkness and sweeping back around to another. Still.

It was a nice day.

And now it is a new one.

Thank you.

My original website was called, "Indigo" and the first version of it went up around 1996, or so. Earlier this week, I consolidated things, making The Allurium (www.theallurium.com) my main Internet site. Indigo isn't gone entirely (there's a marker page up there, with some content) but my main web outlet is here, now.

It's kind of sad to see Indigo's abbreviation. One day I may revive it in some form -- I've always enjoyed playing in those deep blue shades...

As for The Allurium, it will be getting a new look (its "Winter Theme") on the 21st. I like the way the design has turned out and just have to tidy up a few things before it is ready to upload. I hope that you like it (if you get a hankering to explore my main site, that is; Tangerine will continue to look as it does now).

It's a drizzly messy day, here. Gloppy snow, quietly growing patches of ice and chilly air. The Christmas lights, outside, add some cheer to things though. I've been working all week (and pulled an all-nighter yesterday) getting stuff wrapped up before the holidays.

And my birthday. I want to just unwind and have fun on that day. There's a Christmas party this weekend that I am looking forward to, as well. So this week has definitely been one of those, "get stuff done so you can have fun later" type of deals.

Now, if only all my holiday shopping was finished...

Anyway, I hope your December is unfolding smoothly -- and that there is more shine than rain in your hours.

It's cold.

The sky was deep and blue...but that wind. I smacked my thumb with a hammer while hanging a star on the chimney. The cold up there made my nose run. I was glad to put the ladder away, afterward. Fine dustings of snow crusted the grass. There were bits of ice where puddles had been.

The sunset was sweet. Vivid and unstinting. There were pinks and oranges, pale greens and purple-blues. It is dark now, though, and gusts of wind make the house creak. I can hear windchimes dinging, tossed by big air. The metal of the chimes would probably turn your fingers numb, if you were to hold those silvery tubes for very long.

My thumb is still thumping, like a cartoon.

It is Sunday, drifting toward Monday. A holiday weekend gone by...almost. Thanksgiving was nice. Warm and chatty. The rest of the extended weekend's hours were fairly empty, though. That's kind of sad.

And so am I.

Tired, too.

But it is December, now -- and I've always had an affinity for twelve. I think I will pour myself a tall cold glass of water and watch The Fellowship of the Ring again.

Hello, December...