Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Acclimated

There's a lot of pressure on a gorgeous sunny day in Seattle: even though I have no energy whatsoever, I feel like I need to go on a walk immediately or it might go away -- everything. Everything might go away.

It already feels like my head is caving into my face -- no, wait, like my face is caving into my head, but when I look in the mirror there's just a lot of puffiness around my eyes: seasonal allergies, or the detergent residue on my eye mask?

Reading a weather forecast in Seattle is tricky: chance of rain means that it will be sunny, at least at some point in the day. Scattered clouds means scattered sun, right? Oh, wait -- here it goes, I better get outside. I mean I was already outside, sitting in front of the place where I'm staying, a beautiful patio with tables and wildish-looking plants carefully arranged. It actually smells amazing, which is hard to find for me, since I'm allergic to most smells -- I will miss this patio, although I will be trading it for lots more light in my apartment, maybe then I won't be so desperate to get outside, at every minute when it's beautiful, like anything else I could do would be a waste. Or, maybe I'm just acclimating to the Pacific Northwest and the beauty of spring.

If only I didn't feel so awful, but okay, whatever, I'm going to walk, after I do a little bit of feldenkrais to balance myself out and eat a little more food so I'm not too hypoglycemic right away, I guess I need to shit again but there’s a rush, right a rush, so let me take a break from these words to find more.

Here I am outside and it's too cold no it’s not too cold it’s perfect but I'm not wearing enough clothing, I need a scarf and mittens at least but I'm too tired to go back inside, what if it takes too long to get back out and I don't have enough energy to get to the park anyway, I'll just take a short walk and then I'll go back inside. Yes, my hands are too cold but wait, there’s Aloha which means just one more block to Prospect and then I turn right, up a staircase yes here I am and I know this is going to sound strange but it's when I get to that park that I think yes, I'm home.

Or, at least: yes, I can live here as long as I get to the park as often as possible I mean I want to live here I love it I love this, almost like living near the beach and you get to the sand, maybe not quite but still the quiet and openness of all this space the birds chirping and squawking and screeching, someone lying in the grass even though it's cold and cloudy now the sun behind high clouds which truthfully I like as much as the sun without clouds, it almost looks like the moon all soft and glowing.

Oh, yes, the feeling of my feet on the pine-needle-covered side of this part of the hill or that part at all this grass and then when I turn the corner out of the park and there's a corner where the moss has taken over from the grass and yes the view of the mountains between that ugly building that suddenly seems splendid and the street wider than you would think, over there the big white mansion with crumbling paint, you wonder about them next door to the ugly tower with a permit for another antenna on the roof and then downhill too fast because it's steep, more crocuses, purple this time, and then I'm back on the beautiful patio with the crooked stone walkway no not crooked it’s perfectly laid, it's just that each tile holds different angles, not flat or smooth and when I get back inside, 35 or 40 minutes I guess to the park and back, a few blocks further to my apartment once I move, such a beautiful walk and now I'm filled with possibility.

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