I've been thinking about summer for a few days. Tonight, of any night that I've spent here in the city, reminds me of how every one of those days seemed to end: everyone had gone home, and there I was alone, never able to just get into bed and fall asleep, always waiting for something.Then, there was the night before graduation, when I stayed out until five in the morning, walking around. I graduated that day on three hours of sleep. I stayed out until nine the next morning and then just collapsed. Everything felt so good when I was asleep; in some ways, it felt good to be free, so different, new.
All right.
And then, moving further back in time, there was every possible amount of collegiate melodrama. New York failed me by being too bureaucratic, too big, too expensive. But, now, I think that I may have regreted going there had I actually gone. New York may have killed me, or, hypothetically, I guess it could have freed me. But, it did neither, and that's probably for the better. Because, somehow, deep there in what everyone calls the heart - but what is actually just the mind - I know that I belong here. At least, for now, Seattle is my home, just as Pullman is my home.
So, tonight has this whole resonance to just about everything. The summer that I moved, staying up until six am and going to skate in the sunrise, sleeping during the day. The summer after that, being back in Pennsylvania, spending days playing and recording music alone for the first time. The summer after junior year, being everywhere and nowhere, finding time for a lost month. Last summer, being in love. Which, I still am. It is quite easily the scariest, most odd and incomprehensible thing ever. What happened to me?
It's funny how the mind can so easily move from one subject to another. Maybe that's the curse of these nights, when I can just stare out into the dark and think. It's pleasant and it isn't, I guess. It's paradoxical in that I fully enjoy remembering, but, at the same time, I regret it; having so many good memories is not a curse, but sometimes, I just wish they could fade somewhere into the background.
It may be like that African concept of time: all of history becomes a myth, and, upsetting all chronology, events are put together by timing instead of time. One right next to the other, cohering, even if the occurrences were years apart. It's so damn beautiful, if you think about it.
So, now, I will get into my car and go for a drive, clear my head, walk around in the warm, warm, warm downtown, come home, go to bed. But, that can't really happen. I guess, only in my head.