winter glimpses into the ether.
something's not right. i used to think that whatever it is that shows itself in fragments when i least expect is was something that would reveal itself in it's entirety if one simply persued it. but it's not working that way. it's still that elusive wisp of smoke, ghosting it's way above my head when i'm not looking.
tonite the moon was at half. the snow passed above the head while in spots one could peer through the crow's nest of poles and wires to see glints of light hinting at what you missed as it vanished completely. the north wests mistress, the cold cloud, has come to wrap the city in her frosty shawl. there are those of us ken to it. but most will hide behind their insulated walls, their double paned windows, and central heating, and wish for summer.
fuck summer. i hate that blazingly hot waste of a season. it is, of late, only when the air does battle with my ears to wrench feeling from their tips that i've been alive. only when a sub-sanity breezes blow through my hoody that i'm fully awake. the rest of the year feels like a dream. quickly done, easily forgotten, and best ignored. the winter night is my ally, causing all but the most stalwart of inner city denizens to vanish shivering...
side thought:
yet again, i find myself casting about to find out what metal the metal track i'm grooving to so hard acutally is saying. yet again i find it another track that deals so specificly with conformity, chamelity and passing unseen. i always seem to know it was about this subject. my unconcious mind grasping at the same suject matter again over and over...
tonite the moon was at half. the snow passed above the head while in spots one could peer through the crow's nest of poles and wires to see glints of light hinting at what you missed as it vanished completely. the north wests mistress, the cold cloud, has come to wrap the city in her frosty shawl. there are those of us ken to it. but most will hide behind their insulated walls, their double paned windows, and central heating, and wish for summer.
fuck summer. i hate that blazingly hot waste of a season. it is, of late, only when the air does battle with my ears to wrench feeling from their tips that i've been alive. only when a sub-sanity breezes blow through my hoody that i'm fully awake. the rest of the year feels like a dream. quickly done, easily forgotten, and best ignored. the winter night is my ally, causing all but the most stalwart of inner city denizens to vanish shivering...
side thought:
yet again, i find myself casting about to find out what metal the metal track i'm grooving to so hard acutally is saying. yet again i find it another track that deals so specificly with conformity, chamelity and passing unseen. i always seem to know it was about this subject. my unconcious mind grasping at the same suject matter again over and over...