Paddling Up the Stream of Consciousness.

Late-night returns after gargantuan days at work; yesterday was chicken soup and soda crackers after lumbering in the door at 10:30 pm. Last night was an hour more. The cat was in a tizzy, but often is when watching the humans of the house drift off to sleep in rapid succession. What good is lazing all day when no one wants to play in the middle of the night?

The rain lately has been undeniably Britannic, fog barely allowing vision more than a few yards on the freeway. Halogen headlamps of oncoming cars are reduced to will o’ wisps and the reality beyond the veil of vapor could be any city in the world. Sometimes I pretend it might be, that I will emerge in another place when the fog finally burns away. Evan and I have been feeling close to our other homes across the sea; we flourish in this weather while everyone else seems to grumble their way through winter. But this isn’t really winter, it’s bundle-up-and-sip-tea season.

What better way to spend a day off than making alcoholic treats for Christmas presents? Tuesday was filled with oats, honey, and whisky, as any good respite should be. The real treat was tooling around the city with a best friend and spending good time after a year of me away and then a year of him doing the same. To a degree, we’re carbon copies of each other that see things from very different angles. But I’m always amazed at his vision and his depth of feeling, and I prosper with optimism as a result of watching his goals be approached and reached.

I spent the day on Sunday celebrating one friendship and the evening defining another, closing the night by needlessly defending my reliability after a perfect day of confectionary treats and festive folk from all around the city. I suppose I feel I still have something to prove after all these years of trying to please everyone else. This is my own issue, and it’s a remnant of my immaturity and fear of not being accepted. I’m the most reliable person I know, except when I’m too exhausted to function properly. But I don’t need to convince anyone else about it anymore; I just need to believe it.

The new Console album is the soundtrack to this holiday season. Its soft, electronic vibrance is comforting whenever; invigorating on the morning drives to work through the wetness and somnolent during the race home to fall into bed.

There’s a touch of frost on the back windows of the house this morning, as if ol’ Jack took a drunk header into them as he bumbled back to his digs after a long night in the pub. Now I’m looking for nose prints, when I should be getting ready for work.

8 Responses to “Paddling Up the Stream of Consciousness.”

  1. dsrt_faery Says:
    December 15th, 2006 at 1:08 pm

    I have alcholic holiday treats too – we should switch. 😉

  2. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 18th, 2006 at 3:20 am

    This is a certainty and a pleasure. Can't wait.

  3. hermiston Says:
    December 16th, 2006 at 3:33 am

    Flooding rain, tizzy cats, whisky, oats, tea. Sounds like a grey northern town. Auld Jack's taken a wee bit of a stumble here too.

  4. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 18th, 2006 at 3:21 am

    We're positively tropical compared to your cold. More like Jack's crapped a brickload in your backyard!

  5. avalokita Says:
    December 17th, 2006 at 7:50 am

    *holiday hugs for you*

  6. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 18th, 2006 at 3:22 am

    Thank you, and back at ya. I need these things more often!

  7. inbody Says:
    December 17th, 2006 at 11:27 pm

    Frost. The GODDAMN frost!
    There is plenty to romanticize about this time of year here near the Bay, but damn it's cold. Your past experiences in the nippy north, beyond the licks of hell's flames, has surely prepared you for this. Me, I just sit and shiver, sit and shiver. My toes, purple and sore, no longer the strong tools of a ballerina but useless nubs of meat unfit for the snacking of a small housedog.
    Oh, to feel once again the kiss of Sol, to bathe my benumbed extremities in its life-giving rays.
    And it's only December. Damn.

  8. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 18th, 2006 at 3:25 am

    Re: Frost. The GODDAMN frost!
    I was thinking the other day how difficult winter must be for you and others who are affected by the darkness and weather. It's terribly ironic that you connect so well with northern climes but are daunted by long-term visits. But it hasn't seemed to quash your enthusiasm or excitement for it, nonetheless.
    Useless nubs of meat, indeed. 😉

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