December 20, 2005
Sexy sweater weather
Fall generally elicits the same emotions from me. Nothing could be a more poetic metaphor than the death and darkness that the season brings in this hemisphere. When the sun shrinks, I fold in on myself like a hibernating flower. Until it gets hot enough again to sleep in my underwear. But this is the first year that I haven’t already succumbed full-heartedly to, what I will here flippantly describe as, seasonal depression. Or is it “seasonal affective disorder”? Well, I haven’t spent the day in bed yet, so I’m not quite there yet.
Instead, I find sometimes myself thinking about sexy sweather weather. Unseasonabley warm breezes on shorter and shorter days that seem made for smirking and winking. Long sleeve, low cut; just absolutely golden in those crazy late fall sunsets. Sometimes I want to talk with strangers until they’re friends, being different for a while.