I've had enough of white on both sides of the horizon, enough ice and make-up days...
We went winter-sporting a week ago today, but it was a different kind of experience this time. No overnight stay. Instead you get up at three and on a bus at four, ride for a few hours, rent some gear (if you're like me and don't go enough enough to buy your own), and go do whatever you came there for. Late afternoon, you start reversing all those steps, ending where you started, asleep in bed, or perhaps lying awake, sore all over and wondering what exactly your body finds wrong with the idea of going to sleep. I like snowboarding more each time I try it, though this was only my third time, and only my second where I had any idea what was going on, so I've still got a lot to learn. The drive there was enjoyable in its own right, though. I hardly slept at all, except for a couple attempts at dozing. Mostly spent listening to Good Charlotte's distantly familiar debut album and watching the stars I can't usually see in winter (because 4 AM is an unusual time for me to be awake, at least on the latter side of waking), letting the disc player shut off at the end of the album and watching the sky go from black to gray to pink to a thousand shades of orange and blue that made me certain a bad day could only be caused by some stubbornness of my own.
And little has happened since then. Some days good for reasons I don't know or won't say more than a smile about, some that passed without leaving a memory. Things aren't bad but I'm waiting for the world to look a little more habitable. It's true, when they say white isn't a color. It's the absence of color, a pure blankness with no depth or shade or potential for change. Sometimes that's comforting or beautiful, but now it's dismal and misplaced. If today rained clear and warm and melted all this away...
posted on Friday, February 27, 2004
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