Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Tonight: Low of 36

What the fuck, November? When did you get here? All of a sudden it’s that kind of weather where I do a 180 on my position on tights, from “I hate you, you make me hot and itchy” to “I hate you, you’re not nearly as warm as you should be.” Also, since everything I own is too big, I’m having a ball trying to come up with outfits that are warm enough for the weather without reeking of Little Edie Beale. If you see me in tights, a hat, boots, cutoffs, legwarmers, and an enormous scarf looped over a t-shirt that’s way too big, two hoodies and my roommate’s leather jacket, please be kind. It’s not Fashion. I’m freezing.

I’ve spent the last couple of nights retreating hibernation-style to my apartment with just a (digital) pile of new records to keep me company, under a billion blankets because I can’t get the furnace to turn on, candles lit for warmth so the house accidentally smells like vanilla.

I’m basically the classiest grizzly bear ever.

Secretly, though, I’m kind of stoked that it’s getting cold. I like putting up my hood and pretending I’m faceless because I can’t see anyone else’s features. There are few better feelings in the world than sitting on the F and knowing you’re nothing more to anyone than a pile of fake fur trim and the wire to your headphones.

The summer is for yelling. Not in a bad way, it’s just the time of the year when your legs are bare and your hair is stuck to your forehead and it feels good to say shit loud. Ditto for getting belligerent. Or sitting on stoops. Without foliage and all the rest of the stuff I didn’t think I would ever really miss about the suburbs, fall flips by like a commercial about pumpkin-flavored coffee.

And then suddenly it’s winter. And winter’s about being quiet. Winter’s totally for secrets, because everything is one—have you ever watched a stranger walk into a restaurant, or a coffee shop or something, and take off their winter stuff? Every vaguely human-shaped lump of wool and goose down is hiding some kind of inscrutable someone underneath a peacoat, a hat, a scarf, gloves, and three sweaters.

1 Comments:

Blogger Dante said...

i really like your last two paragraphs here.

-g

6:42 AM  

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