Choosing is a matter of seeing, and seeing is a matter of believing. So maybe my problem is I don’t believe in the things I should be seeing, leaving me nothing to choose from.
What I did see today was autumn falling to the ground, nature’s palette of rustic colors painting a patterned blanket underneath the trees, as I strolled through the cemetery park, closing in on the city with its noisy cars and noisy people.
My headphones died last week, and I’m suddenly experiencing all the sounds I’ve been able to shield myself off from until now. It’s not that I dislike the sounds of the world. It’s just that I’ve always wanted to live in a movie, and a movie needs a soundtrack.
What I did see today was a road torn up and broken, machinery exhaling dirt into the air, trying its utmost to turn the blue sky grey overhead, but losing that battle in majestic form to the burning Sun that laid its warmth on my late-summer cheeks.
My skin is really good these days. I’m in a good routine of washing my face with lukewarm water each night before bed, and using a good cream after my shower in the morning. Seasonal changes are usually the worst for my face, but so far I seem to be battling it well.
What I did see today were places I’d led you when I showed you my city and wondered when I’d show you my town. I’m still wondering about that, and I wondered, as I wandered on, if you might one day have the same impact on my experience of my town as you’ve had on my experience of my city.
I’ve never been able to determine if I’m a small-town boy or a big-city kinda guy. When I’m in the city, I miss the quietude of the town, the water, the slowness. When I’m in the town, I miss the pace of the city life, the concerts, the tall buildings for people with high hopes.
What I did see today was your picture next to my records. I don’t recall the design that made me put it there, but I haven’t moved it since, except for closer examination. There’s something homely about having you smile at me every time I put on music.
I’ve hit a rough patch of melancholic music today. Max Richter, Beach House, Nils Frahm, Mr Twin Sister. Trying out new headphones at the hifi store, I almost broke down, fifty-fifty from an experience of sound and from a heartbreaking daydream.
What I did see today were all the ways in which I’ve made room for you in my life, and the ways in which I envision making room. And I’m hanging on for dear life here, trying not to turn my tears into an environmental disaster, trying not to confuse heartache with the apocalypse.