effects of weather

it is strange how when one gets used the same pattern of weather for a week's time, one's attitude surpasses aggravation into apathy and then hopelessness. you give up. then the sun comes out for one single and surreal day, and you want to bask in it but you don't believe it is real. because the next morning, even before you open your eyes, through the open window you hear the all too familiar sound. so familiar it doesnt phase you. the only thought that crosses your mind is that you will need to change your shoe plan- no heels today.

then suddenly the voice of the thunder awakens a new motivation today will be different. but it isn't and you wonder how you will deal with tomorrow if there is sun. will it be real? it hurts your eyes, it's hot. if it would just rain again than you would know what to expect. traffic and flooding and puddles and mess. but if's the mess that you know now, and since weather has so accutely affected you for so many days in a row, it is impossible to imagine it not having such a precise effect on your attitude for many days to come.

the day after rain

historical. paramount. aggravation at it's best. worst. whatever you want to call it and a day after rain i cried. for the first time since godknowswhen. but it all revolved around traffic and politics and dyslexia. which, thank god, i don't officially have the diagnosis. otherwise the goings on of the day would have proved inexcusable. instead, they were minorly offensive + coming to the realization that i have a political fight to uphold + waiting on the onramp to the highway for 20 minutes = tears.

i am being somewhat vague (which should come as a shock) but each small frustration of the day surmounted to a tense jaw and a release of salty tears of which i have not had in ages. what a weird phenomenon. crying. so humbling and so relaxing and so pathetic but so needed. you're covering your face from the car next to you but you're embracing the emotional undertones of the music on your stereo and you let go. it's letting go and admitting defeat to a world of stresses. a world flooded with them in this case. literally. it's a chaotic nightmare- imagine a category 4 hurricane. done for. does god have a message for new england this time? i am sure he does but i didnt think he'd even try to get it across. people here have their heads where the sun dont shine. good luck getting anything through except stock prices and mercedes models.

enough on that. the day warranted wine and obscessive blogging. i brace myself for what lies ahead.

tomorrow's forecast: thunderstorms.

incessance

i am listening to the rain. still. still moving in downwards diagonal drumming on rooftops and roads. the depressing drip and drizzle, a steady down-beat defeating the pulse of life. as standing in a crowd surrounded by those you love but connection is overwhelming and breeds contemplation: negative. you retreat inside- through wet clothes, through tough skin and the calouses on your heart, you move deep inside until the walls are thick and your eyes are heavy with boredom and reasoning with it all.

i can only now be silent and be still. i can only listen to the clack clack of rain as it falls as the downpour of words that beat upon my heart.

rain delay

it’s a grey rainy day, you join the parade
of chimeras traveling the wet highway.
their misty capes of rain
ghostly and billowing
from the wheels of these modern chariots
shrouding sight
sleek with speed
as you try to see, to piece together this reality
in the  s u p e r n a t u r a l i t y
of
  cars
      in
        the rain.

the unexplained science of another

chemical reactions across the board but all so different so mixed up in their own delirious concoction and where is the control group?

when you meet and fall in love with a complete stranger– man or woman– you have fallen for outer ghost of their own reality. you are drawn in by the outward answers of superficial questions, the leaks of light from the inner core that cannot possibly define a soul but can give a glimpse that leaves the assumption in favor of a grand portrait.

the control group is our own reality, our own core, and our interaction with those of others.

then there is the science of disection and taking it to the next level. the familiar and the meticulous undertaking of getting to that core. it's delectably frustrating and warrants the unexpected and the uninhibited response. it is all so real and yet so formulaic, so pursuant of something we are hoping to find rather that delighted and surprised at what is there. what cannot be changed or excused. what is beautifully present and eternally that which we must love for what it is.

there is no control group. only the continuous education of another. another being, another existence. for that which it is. not to be compared to any other.