Oct 15, 2008
An Apple a Day Keeps the Pessimism Away
It's a strong and damp wind. It kinda pats you on the face.
The rain is more like a thick mist.
I'd love to be at home, curled in a ball in my bed.
A hoodie is second best to a blanket.
Coffee and smokes feel like the perfect accessories.
I understand why Seattle has so many coffee shops.
My boss' face has a look of concern, distaste, or discomfort. I can't tell which.
He asks, "You really want to live there?"
Me, "Yeah..."
Him, "But it's so......... rainy."
It was a look of distaste.
A few farmers are sitting near us.
They're drinking all my coffee.
"Wet this"
"Wet that"
"Shitty weather this"
"Shitty weather that"
"Damn rain this"
"Damn rain that"
They might be the only people in the world who complain so frequently about things they can't control.
I can't stand it when people speak slanderously of the weather.
I can't understand people who say "I like sunny days better." as though you could choose a side or have one without the other.
I've always found the two to compliment each other,
like Sun and Moon, Day and Night.
Two days ago a friend told me "Without great sorrow you can not appreciate the greatness of it's opposite."
She was speaking of life.
I think one could apply that wisdom to a lot of things.
A farmer reaches into the back of his truck and lifts out a box of apples.
"Here, these might brighten your day a little"
I think they would brighten the brightest day.
"These came out of my yard. Let me know when you run out and I'll bring you some more."
He's the first one who doesn't curse the storm-front moving through.
I almost mention it to him (for small-talk sake) but I catch myself.
I don't want to talk about the weather. I want to enjoy it.
I want to be at home by an open window.
For some reason rain always sounds perfect
outside of an open window.
The only thing better than an open window is a covered porch.
Ours is more like a stoop and it's drenched
I want to hear a shower of October rain smack against the pavement
and the crackle of old vinyl as Frederic Chopin spins around at 33 rpm's
I want to watch the storm and enjoy an apple.
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