I Ought To...
I composed a journal entry last night as I walked the length of downtown Bellingham for two hours. This isn't an uncommon thing for me to do. Somewhere, in the scrap heap in the back of my brain, there are piles and piles of never-to-be-written livejournal entries. Things I just never managed to type out.
I guess that I shall put down parts of it that I remember. The overall impressions, if you will.
I left the Black Drop when it closed at seven. With nowhere to go, and no one to go with, I did just that. I went nowhere with no one. I walked in any direction that tickled my fancy at any given moment, choosing roads to cross by barely-comprehended intuition. Maybe I liked the color of the bricks on the other side of the street, or maybe I could see the water from a certain street corner.
I fell in with a band of roaming musicians at one point. They were a rag-tag bunch seemingly led by a jellyfish on stilts. I noted an accordion player, a couple of drummers, a cowbell player, some guitars, and what appeared to be a trumpet. Even in my subdued mental state, I laughed and laughed.
Abandoning them on whim, I focused on not stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. This is a little-known habit of mine. A minor obsession, really. I don't step on the cracks in the sidewalk or street if I can possibly avoid it. The seams are fine. Those are man-made, so they don't count. But the cracks that come of weathering and time, oh no. Can't step on them. Funny little habit.
At some point, I realized that the light was turning silvery and a light rain had begun to fall. I watched the buildings and people dusted in silver. It made me a little happier inside. As the day dimmed into twilight, I also realized that it was nearly time to catch my bus home. So, I turned my steps towards the bus station.
The sky shifted from silver to a deep blue that I don't know the name for (but I wish I did). As I walked, I chanced to look up, then stopped short in awe. I probably looked insane, staring up at seemingly nothing in the sky. But the streetlights had managed to get their light caught in the branches of all the still-naked trees lining the street. Limned in gold, their fantastic shapes glowed against the deepening blue. As I took a long look around me again, the neon signs were brightening with the coming dark, like messages from consumerist gods written on the night.
I smoked a cigarette as slowly as I could. Then I went to catch the bus, swaying just slightly to the classical music piped around the station. Someday, late at night, I am going to dance to that music under the bus station lights.
Sometimes it's so goddamned beautiful here. It causes this strange, sweet ache in that spot where I feel my strongest emotions. You know, that spot right below your heart and right above your stomach, below and behind the bottom of your breastbone.
I guess that I shall put down parts of it that I remember. The overall impressions, if you will.
I left the Black Drop when it closed at seven. With nowhere to go, and no one to go with, I did just that. I went nowhere with no one. I walked in any direction that tickled my fancy at any given moment, choosing roads to cross by barely-comprehended intuition. Maybe I liked the color of the bricks on the other side of the street, or maybe I could see the water from a certain street corner.
I fell in with a band of roaming musicians at one point. They were a rag-tag bunch seemingly led by a jellyfish on stilts. I noted an accordion player, a couple of drummers, a cowbell player, some guitars, and what appeared to be a trumpet. Even in my subdued mental state, I laughed and laughed.
Abandoning them on whim, I focused on not stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. This is a little-known habit of mine. A minor obsession, really. I don't step on the cracks in the sidewalk or street if I can possibly avoid it. The seams are fine. Those are man-made, so they don't count. But the cracks that come of weathering and time, oh no. Can't step on them. Funny little habit.
At some point, I realized that the light was turning silvery and a light rain had begun to fall. I watched the buildings and people dusted in silver. It made me a little happier inside. As the day dimmed into twilight, I also realized that it was nearly time to catch my bus home. So, I turned my steps towards the bus station.
The sky shifted from silver to a deep blue that I don't know the name for (but I wish I did). As I walked, I chanced to look up, then stopped short in awe. I probably looked insane, staring up at seemingly nothing in the sky. But the streetlights had managed to get their light caught in the branches of all the still-naked trees lining the street. Limned in gold, their fantastic shapes glowed against the deepening blue. As I took a long look around me again, the neon signs were brightening with the coming dark, like messages from consumerist gods written on the night.
I smoked a cigarette as slowly as I could. Then I went to catch the bus, swaying just slightly to the classical music piped around the station. Someday, late at night, I am going to dance to that music under the bus station lights.
Sometimes it's so goddamned beautiful here. It causes this strange, sweet ache in that spot where I feel my strongest emotions. You know, that spot right below your heart and right above your stomach, below and behind the bottom of your breastbone.