Tuesday, September 21, 2010

If you need to make the rain Freudian, so be it.

"Something you're going to learn pretty quickly," - this being the unBridge, a third-year in the program, speaking, "is that getting readings done early isn't going to get you time to do free, fun activities. It's going to get you free time to do more readings."

I felt like that today. I had worked to split up my milieu; I had gone to the gym (I have to go in the early morning, because I can't stand waiting in line for the bench, although, true, it would break the routine more to go in the afternoon), worked at home, gone to the library, worked in a cafe, and returned home only after 5 pm -- but I still found myself chomping at the bits.

I went for a walk.

I went for a walk, and remembered the pleasure of walking down the middle of a one-way street lit by soft phosphorescent glows. I smelled the air and wondered if my sense impressions smelled like Glade plug-ins but were the real thing, or were the wafting artificiality of all of the suburbia and academia in which I found myself. I tasted the sky and watched lightning clouds gather.

I went for a walk, and on the return home the wind began to pick up. The lightning flashed more than intermittently. The wind wasn't just picking up, it was pushing me, and I wanted simultaneously to keep my head to it, to entwine myself in its grasp, and to turn a shoulder to its press in my thrusting gait. The rain spat like miniature balls of hails, great slaps upon my face and shoulders.

The temperature dropped.

I realized that I had been waiting for something. For the hour when I could tuck myself in to bed. For a hobby to present itself. For my Animus to call. For the humidity to shuck its relentless claims on the earth. Any one of those things could have satisfied the rest - just one of those things did satisfy the rest.

The wind was singing, the rain dancing, and I stopped in front of my apartment. I raised my hands to the sky and embraced it.
I come with the storm
A subject conflated to his symbols
And so I am the storm
Enshrouding the city with my fogs
My waters upon its every stone
Its lights pressed upon my flesh
I really do need to find a hobby, though. One that doesn't involve using a computer, or reading. Like...what do humans do in their spare time?

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