I know this is a weird thing for me to say, but on Friday, June 7, at work, I began feeling nostalgic for January, February (God knows why), and March. Especially January. First of all, that day at work I was listening to Bavarian Fruit Bread by Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions, and I was listening to Hope a lot in January.
We don't get much light in Chicago in January, but the light we do get is beautiful. It makes everything it touches seem to come alive, slowly... it's like everything the light falls on begins waking up from a deep sleep. I complained about all those gray snowy days but now what I remember is that clear, barely and calmly yellow light; the light could be considered bleak, and maybe it would be bleak if it weren't for the quiet, whispered, transparent hint of warmth that subtly transforms the bleakness into peace.
I am not going to discuss the cold.
In my poem where I say "the winter sun is her halo," I am speaking of the Dark Goddess, because winter is the dark moon time of the year. Indeed, this January it was very clear that 2012 had ended but 2013 had not yet begun. That's the way it is in January. It's an in-between time, like September (when I was married) and November (after which I named my blog. Incidentally, November shares with January this sparse, precious, yellow quality of light.)
I've got a nasty case of nostalgia for everything that's ever happened. It seems like parts of the past have flavors to them and the present time doesn't have a flavor. You don't realize what flavor a time is until it's over. Even drab, dreary times when you felt like a zombie and you thought there could not possibly be any flavor, even times like that fog your mind after the fact with nostalgia for the flavor you didn't realize was there, and you miss it, even if it tasted bad, because at least, in your mind, it tasted like SOMETHING.
The soundtrack to this post is "Clear Day" by Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions and "Flavor" by Tori Amos. Buy the albums "Bavarian Fruit Bread" by Hope and "Abnormally Attracted to Sin" by Tori Amos and listen to "Clear Day" and "Flavor" while you read this. (Just FYI, a different version of "Flavor" is on Amos' album "Gold Dust.") Trust me, you won't regret it!
Didn't Holden Caulfield say something, at the end of Catcher in the Rye, about how you shouldn't talk about the past because you start missing everybody, even people you thought you hated?
We don't get much light in Chicago in January, but the light we do get is beautiful. It makes everything it touches seem to come alive, slowly... it's like everything the light falls on begins waking up from a deep sleep. I complained about all those gray snowy days but now what I remember is that clear, barely and calmly yellow light; the light could be considered bleak, and maybe it would be bleak if it weren't for the quiet, whispered, transparent hint of warmth that subtly transforms the bleakness into peace.
I am not going to discuss the cold.
In my poem where I say "the winter sun is her halo," I am speaking of the Dark Goddess, because winter is the dark moon time of the year. Indeed, this January it was very clear that 2012 had ended but 2013 had not yet begun. That's the way it is in January. It's an in-between time, like September (when I was married) and November (after which I named my blog. Incidentally, November shares with January this sparse, precious, yellow quality of light.)
I've got a nasty case of nostalgia for everything that's ever happened. It seems like parts of the past have flavors to them and the present time doesn't have a flavor. You don't realize what flavor a time is until it's over. Even drab, dreary times when you felt like a zombie and you thought there could not possibly be any flavor, even times like that fog your mind after the fact with nostalgia for the flavor you didn't realize was there, and you miss it, even if it tasted bad, because at least, in your mind, it tasted like SOMETHING.
The soundtrack to this post is "Clear Day" by Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions and "Flavor" by Tori Amos. Buy the albums "Bavarian Fruit Bread" by Hope and "Abnormally Attracted to Sin" by Tori Amos and listen to "Clear Day" and "Flavor" while you read this. (Just FYI, a different version of "Flavor" is on Amos' album "Gold Dust.") Trust me, you won't regret it!
Didn't Holden Caulfield say something, at the end of Catcher in the Rye, about how you shouldn't talk about the past because you start missing everybody, even people you thought you hated?
No comments:
Post a Comment