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10-26-09 // 7:11 pm talk about the passion NP: R.E.M. - "Murmur" Cold, dark, wet, raw night. Day. One where the alarm goes off at 6:30 and it's still pitch black outside. Drive to work half awake, the sun rising but invisible behind layers of battleship gray clouds. Spattering rain, the industrial and working class brick bungalow landscape of southwest city whirs by as I hurtle down the freeway to the 'burbs and the office park where my office lives. The entire day goes by in this twilight, dark enough for streetlights to still be on at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The smile inducing sight of orange-yellow sodium light glow refracting through spitting rain and bouncing off the shopfronts and cafe windows of the little shopping street around the corner from my apartment. Freezing cold fingers, the comfort of a lived-in hoodie and strings of white Christmas lights along the built-in Victorian woodwork of my living room. Cups of green tea, black bean stew, that feeling that you should do as the bears and the squirrels are doing and get ready to hibernate the gloom away. I have a love/hate relationship with this time of year. It's the fatalism of fall, I think; the beauty in sadness, the beauty of an ending, of the recurrence of a cycle. I curse days like today, yet I revel in them.
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