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winter tales

December 7, 2008

I’m feeling strangely sentimental–but I suppose it’s not really that strange. After all, yesterday evening, I spent a good two hours listening to Christmas music (this mix, in fact, which I can’t recommend enough) I came out of the subway and into New York’s first snow. It started as hardly noticeable flurries, and eventually, as we walked in search of an unfamiliar pub for the NaNo TGIO party, it became real snow. And it was the most wonderful thing, to be walking on the streets of New York City in the snow, and us, singing ridiculous songs we all knew the lyrics to, or Christmas songs, badly. 

But mostly there was the snow. Snowflakes on my black fuzzy gloves and on our eyelashes and in our hair. Snow that we watched slice through the night air. Snow we could see under the lamp lights. And yes, of course, many people would disagree with me, a lot of people are nonchalant or ambivalent or downright hate it. But for me, the first sign of a true real New York winter, this was bliss. I laughed as we walked through the snow and I can’t wait, until more of it falls, until it blankets the city. And, for now, I am adoring the cold cold weather. I am at ease in sweaters and coats and scarves and layers. I am cherishing it, for the new two weeks, until I escape back home. 

And in the meantime, this sentimentalism, that maybe comes with the inevitable Sunday-late night mood changes, procrastination, search for that something or another that I’ll never find (according to Synecdoche, New York, which I think I’d recommend for those searching for meaning and a fan of Charlie Kaufman), that maybe comes with this weather and the desire to stay warm and cozy inside, that comes with listening to too many songs whose purpose is to inspire sentimentalism, and songs that seem to be about just this, sentimentalism that is possibly misguided but sort of wonderful and fulfilling…

Life has gotten pretty surreal. Possibly even more so than before, but I suppose it’s always had that touch of surrealism, as long as I’m here. The surrealism is part of what makes it so wonderful. And what am I trying to say, here? 

I think I’ve forgotten my original purpose. But soon it will be Christmas day, and although I won’t be spending it in the city, part of me, probably, will remain in this city. And although I’ve never been a big fan of Christmas, really, perhaps this year I’ll have a bit more heart for that holiday cheer. Oh geez I think I’m speaking in holiday card language now…but hey. It’s snowing on this blog, and the snow is wonderful, and sometimes maybe that’s all that you need.

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