Wet leaves
Bitter cold
Mid-fall, 2008
What did I do today? Yesterday? Not much. The word is light and I will leave the truth for next year… but remember- the truth hurts. This morning I woke up, rolled out of bed and became aware of the bleak, dark day and pitter patter of the rain. I had had a plan for the day but I forgot what it was and went down stairs to pour some coffee and consider the all too foreboding plan for the day. After contemplating the decision for 30 minutes I decided to pour myself another coffee and make a venue change from the kitchen to the living room. Sometimes a venue change helps stimulate mental focus and psychological function. I sat and stared out the window at the wet leaves. I hate wet leaves. I stared harder and began to glare. I wanted to kill the wet leaves. See- here’s the deal with wet leaves: They were once dry. They floated around, caught the brisk fall wind and soared through the air. They were like a pair of chipmunks playing in the back yard. They were part of what was a happy time. Now they are wet, like melting snow in the rain. They are hopeless and useless, smothered in the mud puddles and smashed into the streets. It’s like a scene from the holocaust; everything emaciated and forever (actually just for the moment) denied the meager redemption of previous ecstasy. Awh, but it will get better. Still the plan doesn’t come to mind, so I go outside and wander through the wilderness for a little while. I always carry a shotgun when I leave the house in case a beast emerges from the forest in a fit of rage and hunger. I wander into the garage to make sure my bikes are in the same place they’ve been for the last week. Yep. I’m tempted to get on and ride it around in a circle just to make sure it still works, but fight the temptation and sharpen the axe on the grinder instead. Still with no clear objective in mind I take a seat and figure on staying there until thoughts become more lucid…
Mid-fall, 2008
What did I do today? Yesterday? Not much. The word is light and I will leave the truth for next year… but remember- the truth hurts. This morning I woke up, rolled out of bed and became aware of the bleak, dark day and pitter patter of the rain. I had had a plan for the day but I forgot what it was and went down stairs to pour some coffee and consider the all too foreboding plan for the day. After contemplating the decision for 30 minutes I decided to pour myself another coffee and make a venue change from the kitchen to the living room. Sometimes a venue change helps stimulate mental focus and psychological function. I sat and stared out the window at the wet leaves. I hate wet leaves. I stared harder and began to glare. I wanted to kill the wet leaves. See- here’s the deal with wet leaves: They were once dry. They floated around, caught the brisk fall wind and soared through the air. They were like a pair of chipmunks playing in the back yard. They were part of what was a happy time. Now they are wet, like melting snow in the rain. They are hopeless and useless, smothered in the mud puddles and smashed into the streets. It’s like a scene from the holocaust; everything emaciated and forever (actually just for the moment) denied the meager redemption of previous ecstasy. Awh, but it will get better. Still the plan doesn’t come to mind, so I go outside and wander through the wilderness for a little while. I always carry a shotgun when I leave the house in case a beast emerges from the forest in a fit of rage and hunger. I wander into the garage to make sure my bikes are in the same place they’ve been for the last week. Yep. I’m tempted to get on and ride it around in a circle just to make sure it still works, but fight the temptation and sharpen the axe on the grinder instead. Still with no clear objective in mind I take a seat and figure on staying there until thoughts become more lucid…
posted by Tom Peterson @ 10:33 AM
