pressure

i had a hard time tolerating the weather today. we were under a red flag warning, meaning extremely low humidity, high temperatures, high wind. the afternoon sun blasted relentlessly; all across campus, students lounged sleepily with minimal clothing.

it's ominous, because most of the plants haven't started to stir. it's ominous, because i can look at the radar and see a swirling system pushing across the plains. the winds knocking weak limbs from the trees have swept here from the rockies. my fountain pens burp whenever i release their caps. an indefinite flood watch propagates through the weather forecast.

this is spring. how is this spring?

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13 April 2018 21:41

cabin fever

the sky opens blue above me, but snow drifts by, somehow. they land on my cheeks like pinpricks, and i blink to keep them from my eyes. all day, i hear about things that have fallen over from the winds; trees, recycle bins of glass, a porta-potty. for a few moments, the world seems too hostile. for these moments, i can hardly convince myself to step outside of a building.

but i feel the suffocation of solid walls, filtered air, unquiet electronics. i feel the world as impossibly small, unavoidably ordered, inescapably futile. i feel the pressure from a building full of people i cannot see, in rooms above, below, and beside mine. i can reach in front of me and touch objects, but i cannot hear the wind blow.

all challenges are a gift; they are puzzles to be met and worked on.

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04 April 2018 19:51

blooms

umbrellas sprout in the rain; they swing across the sidewalk, blindly, and i careen through them on my bicycle. i know if i tuck down over my handlebars, i can slip under the taller ones. it's a game, and i laugh.

one student walks towards me with an umbrella patterned like a daisy, wearing orange rubber boots that cover her shins. she swings out of my way while i swerve.

the grass swells, puddles glistening. my phone blows up with half a dozen flash flood warnings. it's still cold out. it's april.

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03 April 2018 21:11

winter not yet waned

on days like this, i can't stop yearning for summer.

i don't even like summer. but i can't stop looking at the flat, glaring white sky and remembering the endless blue, clouds bursting through the edges in slow-motion, fistfuls of gnats burrowing against my sweaty eyes, dry grass crunching between my toes as they wait for rain.

i don't even like summer, but my clothes grow heavier each day. march draws to an end, but i still dress like it's january.

i don't even like summer, because the hot air is hard to breathe, and i can find no position that i can stretch my body into without pooling more heat into the floorboards around my skin.

i don't even like summer, with pavement that stings to the touch and trees that drop pollen into my lungs and paychecks that wane down to a trickle.

i don't even like summer, but on days like this, i can't stop yearning for summer.

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30 March 2018 16:28

spring

a slow, pouring rain begins to drown out the ceiling fans. the vanguard spritzed me on my way down; i parked my bicycle at the innermost rack, almost completely covered by the awning. this is the benefit of arriving early: knowing that i can at least place my seat under cover.

there's a short window ledge in the widely spiraling staircase, facing a direction that brought in a serviceable amount of grey light. during the sunnier months, i can barely stand to walk through the glare, but today, it's the right amount for reading. i sit with my back to the window, legs crossed in front of me.

i'd overlooked the fact that everyone whose office is in the suite at the top of the stairs would walk past me, and almost felt embarrassed about my highly public choice of reading light.

'no one reads in a bar unless they're looking for attention,' a young lawyer in town for a conference once said to me at my regular watering hole, where i was churning through texts for a class on american political humor. 'besides, aren't you too young to know who lenny bruce is?'

i used to get in trouble at school for sneaking books under my shirt to recess. i used to get in trouble for checking out books from the sections marked for older grades. i used to get in trouble for doing my assigned summer reading while inclined on the couch.

i've read eighteen books this year, so far.

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20 March 2018 21:24