8:08 pm and the lights are off.
off and on. like my relationship with everything of late.
fickle pickle is my name. and yippy yapping seems to be my game.
fall. the perfect time to really secure your interests - gone are the frivolous days of summer, replaced with the crisp determined air of a season that's most important job is to purposefully march us forward into the next.
and yet, here i am, hanging onto the frosted flake loveliness of being aimless, as is kosher in june, or july. the joy of wandering around on balmy evenings, breathing in the dusk that kicks around till almost 11 pm. of leaving decisions to the last moment about everything - because you always know that if your plans fall through, others will magically appear. because everyone wants to flit about doing not much of anything with pretty much anyone in the summer.
and now it is 8:08 pm and the light is off inside and out - the sun set almost an hour ago, settling the world into darkness and the new, dimly-lit romanticism of hibernation and cozying up to anything close, including your comforter.
this time of year, music starts to feel really meaningful - as if it doesn't any other moment of any other season - but in fall, you feel it all. or you think you do. there's something in the air - in the way the leaves scatter across the streets in tri-color splendor, and in the vaguely melancholy tone of everything you see and hear and touch. all of this makes music emerge as the undisputed king of autumn. and so you load up your ipod with various mixes, and hit the streets, making your way through throngs of people in their coats and scarves, the modest heels on your boots clicking and clacking across the concrete.
your headphones are big, too big for your outfit, really, but you don't care. the soundtrack is far more important than your hairdo, isn't it?
and as you cycle through the songs, one chilly but sunny song after the other, you look forward into your future, and by future you mean winter. for it is there, waiting in the distance for you. and all the warmth of music won't save you from its cold mitts.
i wonder if you'll know better about anything then than you do now.
off and on. like my relationship with everything of late.
fickle pickle is my name. and yippy yapping seems to be my game.
fall. the perfect time to really secure your interests - gone are the frivolous days of summer, replaced with the crisp determined air of a season that's most important job is to purposefully march us forward into the next.
and yet, here i am, hanging onto the frosted flake loveliness of being aimless, as is kosher in june, or july. the joy of wandering around on balmy evenings, breathing in the dusk that kicks around till almost 11 pm. of leaving decisions to the last moment about everything - because you always know that if your plans fall through, others will magically appear. because everyone wants to flit about doing not much of anything with pretty much anyone in the summer.
and now it is 8:08 pm and the light is off inside and out - the sun set almost an hour ago, settling the world into darkness and the new, dimly-lit romanticism of hibernation and cozying up to anything close, including your comforter.
this time of year, music starts to feel really meaningful - as if it doesn't any other moment of any other season - but in fall, you feel it all. or you think you do. there's something in the air - in the way the leaves scatter across the streets in tri-color splendor, and in the vaguely melancholy tone of everything you see and hear and touch. all of this makes music emerge as the undisputed king of autumn. and so you load up your ipod with various mixes, and hit the streets, making your way through throngs of people in their coats and scarves, the modest heels on your boots clicking and clacking across the concrete.
your headphones are big, too big for your outfit, really, but you don't care. the soundtrack is far more important than your hairdo, isn't it?
and as you cycle through the songs, one chilly but sunny song after the other, you look forward into your future, and by future you mean winter. for it is there, waiting in the distance for you. and all the warmth of music won't save you from its cold mitts.
i wonder if you'll know better about anything then than you do now.
posted by mad at 8:15 PM
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