the fire inside
Oct. 5th, 2010 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jazzfishBolivia: "I am thirty three years old and have not once seriously considered moving to Bolivia." (To paraphrase Grant Morrison, this post contains the active ingredient METAPHOR. If you are allergic to METAPHOR, please consult a doctor before consuming this post.)
When the Yogurt Took Over: A Short Story: "WE UNDERSTAND, the yogurt said. WE HOPE YOU HAVE STOCKED UP ON CANNED GOODS." (Inspired by a throwaway line in What I Think About Atlas Shrugged)
The Great European Shouting Match: a bunch of maps of Europe, through the eyes of various European nationalities (plus the gays and the Americans). Hilarious.
I cannot stop watching these dolphins.
I probably make this post every year, but gord it is good to have autumn again. This year has nearly killed me: summer ought not begin in April and end in September. I walked out the door yesterday morning and shivered for the first time in longer than I care to remember. Rain and gentle mist and a chill prickling all down my arms, this is what October should be, and what I've been missing.
I love the cold. The thrill of cool slightly-damp air on my skin in the morning, the shock that reminds me I'm still alive and that's not such a bad thing after all. Scuffly crunchy leaves and visible breath and long coats and light that settles through the air to sharpen and soften the edges of everything.
More than that, though, I've fallen in love with getting warm. A blast of hot air on my feet, a mug of just-shy-of-boiling tea fogging up my glasses, someone to curl up with under a fuzzy blanket, a bath that turns my skin a nice deep pinkish-red. The transition energizes me, I think. Or maybe it's the sense of being (or getting) warmed all through while everything outside is crisp and clean and cool.
Today I'm tired (probably from not having slept more than six hours through in, oh, at least two weeks) and fragile (related to the lack of sleep, among other things) and reading and rereading Fleurs sans mort and wondering why I'm here.
Tell me something awesome about you. I already think you're awesome: you're a friend of mine. I'd like to know what you think is awesome about you. Or just what's kinda neat, or worth mentioning.
When the Yogurt Took Over: A Short Story: "WE UNDERSTAND, the yogurt said. WE HOPE YOU HAVE STOCKED UP ON CANNED GOODS." (Inspired by a throwaway line in What I Think About Atlas Shrugged)
The Great European Shouting Match: a bunch of maps of Europe, through the eyes of various European nationalities (plus the gays and the Americans). Hilarious.
I cannot stop watching these dolphins.
I probably make this post every year, but gord it is good to have autumn again. This year has nearly killed me: summer ought not begin in April and end in September. I walked out the door yesterday morning and shivered for the first time in longer than I care to remember. Rain and gentle mist and a chill prickling all down my arms, this is what October should be, and what I've been missing.
I love the cold. The thrill of cool slightly-damp air on my skin in the morning, the shock that reminds me I'm still alive and that's not such a bad thing after all. Scuffly crunchy leaves and visible breath and long coats and light that settles through the air to sharpen and soften the edges of everything.
More than that, though, I've fallen in love with getting warm. A blast of hot air on my feet, a mug of just-shy-of-boiling tea fogging up my glasses, someone to curl up with under a fuzzy blanket, a bath that turns my skin a nice deep pinkish-red. The transition energizes me, I think. Or maybe it's the sense of being (or getting) warmed all through while everything outside is crisp and clean and cool.
Today I'm tired (probably from not having slept more than six hours through in, oh, at least two weeks) and fragile (related to the lack of sleep, among other things) and reading and rereading Fleurs sans mort and wondering why I'm here.
Tell me something awesome about you. I already think you're awesome: you're a friend of mine. I'd like to know what you think is awesome about you. Or just what's kinda neat, or worth mentioning.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 07:48 pm (UTC)I thought very hard about moving to Bolivia, and sometimes I'm still sad that I chose not to. I mean, I love where I live. I love the autumn and Fenway Park and the ocean and all my friends, and I wouldn't live anywhere else for the WORLD. But I talked to my friends who live in Bolivia, and even though some of them are having a really hard time fitting in, others have made a life for themselves which is just as awesome as my autumn and Fenway Park and the ocean, and I get jealous.
Not jealous enough to move, though.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-06 03:33 am (UTC)Bolivia has always struck me as the kind of place where everyone who goes there fits in, because, hey, they're all in Bolivia together! I'm always kind of relieved to hear from people who didn't hear (or heed, anyway) the siren call, and are more or less perfectly happy with that. Gives me some hope.
And your autumn and ocean (and I assume your stadium as well, though I've not seen it) are indeed /quite/ awesome.