Wednesday, September 26, 2007

the days grow shorter

As previously mentioned, summer's over. That is still the case. If the other areas of my life hold true, then soon I will miss it.

But I don't know if I will.

Summer is everything at once. Summer is overload. Summer is excitement. Summer is death. Summer is the worst decision you have ever made followed by the best. Summer is endless nights of endless drink and endless conversations. Summer is everyone you ever wanted to be with and no one at the same time. Summer is the crowd your parents warned you about. Summer makes a man mean. Summer makes a man strong. Summer makes a man.

And it is over. The hibernation is setting in. The fatigue is here. The late nights are fewer. The empty beds spring up more often. The jokes we told don't get the same laughs, the love the same looks. Less people come around. They don't stay as long. They don't try as hard.

And neither do I.

I pray for apocalypse or armageddon or terrorism or strokes. I take a little longer to apply the brakes, I wait a little longer to push the gas. I say less and less and less to everyone from random faceless names to my parents.

I cried last night. In the middle of a small crowd. Just enough. A friend of mine played some songs, for probably the last time. And he played this song that showed up at a time when I was finding my own bearings and missing a lot of things. A time when nights were spent at places I used to live with people I used to know and the world I used to live in was changing, and I was on a couch or in a guest room. And the song was about a man who I didn't know, with a problem I didn't have, but a coping mechanism I could relate to.

So I cried. Enough to have to wipe tears away. Enough to feel a little better. Enough to say I cried.

I can recognize this feeling in my chest. And it spreading to my arms and my head. Things will be different soon. Smiles will be had by all.

Hello fall, I don't think I recognize you.


Anonymous said...

Dearest Anthony, I want to be your mug of velvety hot cocoa (with liquor added). Your fluffy marshmallows, perhaps. Your warm woollen mittens, on your artist's hands.

Whit said...

Stick with me kid, summer is for boys. Fall will put hair on your chest.

ImPerceptible said...

Anthony, I want to snuggle with you under a wool blanket (You have to wear pants) and feed you homemade bread and apple pie still hot from the oven. And I want to hear you dreams and watch the leaves fall off the trees. Then I’ll wave goodbye as you take off on your next adventure. I’ll toss a couple 40’s in your pack.

Roach said...

At least Rex isn't starting. That should make you excited about the rest of Fall.