it's 6:40 am, on December 17, 2002 - the first snow.

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So again, winter drove me from my native shores to somewhere else. A somewhere else and it started to snow.

Al wrote about Bobby and Hank building a snowman once, about how Bobby didn't name it Jeremy because we all melt in the springtime. There isn't enough snow on the ground but even if there was, I wouldn't name a snowman. we all melt in our springtimes.

6.41 am is no time to be waxing poetic.

So two of my snowmen are snug safe in their beds, or at least in bed and on futon. --futon, by way of obscure fact, means plant or orchard plant, in Greek.

Bryant's tucked safe in his tree. Huh.

There should be a lot more exposition and storytelling here, and at some semi-unrelated point I really should narrate the bit where Will insists I gave him a really bad blow job one time, and I can't remember it at all. There isn't going to be more exposition, probably, because it was snowing.

Also, I broke down crying last night in the pub. The two of them insisted it was stress, and worry, all being let out. catharsis, one might say. But I don't remember. It's like, the cause has gone away, faded, and all I can remember are tear streaks on my cheeks. like I woke up crying, and can't remember why or how or who, just that there was a huge sadness.

Yesterday was the first snowfall I've seen all year. as you know, it doesn't snow much in vancouver. So, in a way? though snow drifts and white stuff in the air is what everyone associates with winter, I don't. because snowfall isn't sad, it's not a neverending month after month rain. That's winter, to me, grey on grey on grey from November, straight through until the end of April. Snow is, different.

Al also said, her and her tribe went to the coast once, and saw the snow and the ocean. I like the ocean, and she says it's the symbol of the subconscious. I don't know what that makes me.

There are things you only do for one reason.

the thing is, people that you know, they all own chunks of you. the problem is it's all different chunks, and if you own a different shape chunk than they do, your pieces don't fit and people are sad, or unhappy, with what kind of friends you are.

I think maybe the problem is, people grow and change and then their insides change too. And then you wake up one day and you find out that you have a difference of fandom, for example, or that she's gone and gone and not coming back. Or, whatever. and the things you do, they don't fit anymore. And that's a loss, a steady and every-day loss, just like rainclouds on the west coast.

But see, snow, it's different. Because it doesn't appear sad. It's not that kind of winter. So, our snowmen, they melt and change and we're all rebuilding each other constantly. I think, maybe.

You just believe in something and make it work. pack on a little more snow here, a little more there. because snow is just hard water, and water always changes.

Someone very smart once said, when all else fails, go to water. And in that way, we're just all water taken shape. Not grey like clouds. Just changing.

Six fifty six am is definitely not time to wax poetical, not to mention draw incredibly complex water metaphors.

Bobby didn't name the snowman Jeremy because it was just going to melt away in the spring. But maybe, he should have named it something. and then when it melted and reformed, named it something else. So that way he could keep it close to him, and make it his, whatever shape it's water took.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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