November 30th, 2007

rainy day

BABY, THE RAIN MUST FALL

Somewhere in the midst of the darkness and the rain, I keep thinking about you. YOU, that I'm so glad for. YOU, that I'm so sad for. YOU, that I wish I could see more. YOU. and YOU. and YOU, too.

Mostly, I've been seeing the world through a blur. Either a blur of raindrops, pattering down on the windshield before being SWEPT away to the sides and down, zip zop, zip zop as the windshield wipers clear the way. Or through a haze of blurry eyed squinterdom. Or the blur of perpetual motion. I was going to joke that I've invented a perpetual motion machine: it's ME. But that's lame, since I do collapse, muddy and exhausted into a 6-hour (not enough!) sleep coma each night.

The darkness presses me into the bed and covers me up and tucks me in.

It's cold in the house, or at least, it's cold in my bones, in my limbs, in my extremities. As the temperature drops I am much more aware that I have hands and feet than I normally am. Just like when you hurt yourself, pull a muscle or sprain something and are made suddenly much more conscious of that essential bit of yourself because it FEELS more.

I was sent a message this week, one of those email forwards that makes the rounds and pops up everywhere on the internet, the sort of thing I usually tip directly into the bin with the delete button, only this time I actually clicked on the link and did what it asked: I cancelled the automatic subscription for a printed phonebook. When we, and everyone we know, uses the internet to look up phone numbers and maps for everything under the sun, what is the point of stacking landfills full of these giant paper bricks every year, paper that could be better kept as trees which COOL THE EARTH? If you live in Sweden and want to make a small gesture toward the environment, here's the link.

Bubblingly Beautiful, But Belated Birthday Wishes to gnostraeh!