sky gazing begins

For some reason, once the sun starts its descent into hermitude in October, with it goes my imagination. It finds a suitable place to burrow and then it hibernates until the spring. Sure, it rolls around now and then -- and let's out an epic, dirty fart here and there -- but it's heavily sedated and basically dormant for six months a year, while darkness and cold reign.

I feel like it's starting to wake up.

For instance, I'm starting to look up in the sky again. That's a biggie. Too often during the winter months, it's home-truck-work-truck-random activity-truck-home, all hurried to in the frigidness of the outdoors, without the time spent to look around and soak anything up. It's quite mindless and quite unnatural.

When I look up into the sky, I realize how absolutely and ridiculously fucking tiny I am in the grand scheme of things and how short my life is compared to everything flinging around in outer space and it really puts things into perspective. The winter is grind time. I tend to sink and think about myself and my life in the terms that surround me -- work, media, friends, city, internet, radio and get caught up in thoughts of career and all that carefully constructed stuff that you are taught to fret from such a young age. The summer is my time. I find myself forgetting all about the troubles or worries or insecurities I had during those buckle-down months and just wind up swimming in the moment.

My winter self is insanely jealous of summer self.

The sun is up until nearly 8 p.m. It's still cold as rejection but in six short weeks, the snow will recede into the ground. I'm so excited to start biking to work in the mornings again and to be able to sit around outside and enjoy a drink or a bite to eat or a conversation.

And to start seeing things again and using this old dusty, moldy cheese-clump squished between my ears.

Note: this post could be influenced by the fact I've been listening to this track on an endless loop. While I admit this makes no lyrical reference whatsoever to spring or summer, it still sounds like summer to me...

Phontigga? Who knew?