Full Lunacy
It is mid September. Last week, the temperature had gone as high as 18°C; on Wednesday, there had been no wind, not even a faint breeze - and this is Wellington for godssakes - and it had been still and stuffy outdoors.
Today, I woke up to gray skies, gales and rain. It's still drizzling; it didn't stop at all. It's now 10°C outside (and 6°C in windchill factor), and the winds - Southwesterlies - are blowing at a reasonable 46 km/h.
Since it is mid September, this weather can mean only one thing: Spring has arrived.
Winter can be pretty bad here once in a while - like last August. The gales were going over 100 km/h (as high as 180 km/h according to the Herald), blowing everything off. A glass panel got blown off and smashed into Jen's window, and I'd heard more windowpanes being smashed that night; part of the airport's roof got blown off.
Anyway, Winter can be pretty bad, but personally, I think Spring beats Winter hands down. There is no shittier season in Welly than Spring. Ours is definitely not the Spring of "shoures soote" and Zephirus' "sweete breeth".
So I don't care what the papers print about the 'official' start of Spring; when bad weather begins, Spring is here.
But even though my plans for today had literally been pissed on, the weather made me feel ... I don't know - comforted, maybe. Maybe the weather has been too fine lately - too many sunny, breezy weeks.
I think I've had a great day. I spent two hours lying in bed, not really dreaming, not really thinking - just losing myself in my own gentle cloudburst of pictures and words. When I finally got up, I allowed myself some coffee and spent some time scribbling a bedtime story from out of the blue; I translated seventy lines of Bēowulf listening to rainy-day music (and finally had the opportunity to play my Raincoat soundtrack - you really just can't play it on sunny days).
But most of all, I think, it's been a great day because I have a selection of thirteen graphic books to choose from - seven of which are by Neil Gaiman. I am currently very selfishly hoarding four books from The Sandman collection (Dream Country, Season of Mists, Brief Lives, and The Wake), two of the Death series (Death: The High Cost of Living, and Death: The Time of Your Life), and Black Orchid.
Then there is Roman Dirge's Lenore: noogies - which, in my uneducated opinion, is sort of a Tim Burton-lite. Lenore's very cute (I'd get her inked on me if I were the flippant sort), and the book's funny at times, but I think I still prefer Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories. I also have volume three of Jane's World, which is sort of a dykey sitcom, and Seth's It's A Good Life, If You Don't Weaken - I find myself too depressingly like the protagonist (Seth) to like it more than I do.
And I'm still very selfishly holding onto Kochalka's Peanutbutter & Jeremy's Best Book Ever!, and the two Klimowskis (The Depository: A dream book and The Secret), even though I don't dare to read the latter two without sunlight.
Maybe it's the full moon in my sign, maybe it my lack of sleep, or maybe I've had too much sugar; maybe all of the above. I feel almost delirious - a crush on Death, soft spots for Delirium and Destruction; I want sprinkle exclamation marks everywhere like rice at a wedding - and suddenly, strangely, delighted.
I am incoherent.
Oh well, I get these spells once in a full moon.
Tomorrow, maybe, it will go away.
Tonight, I'll howl, sky-clad, at the moon.
Today, I woke up to gray skies, gales and rain. It's still drizzling; it didn't stop at all. It's now 10°C outside (and 6°C in windchill factor), and the winds - Southwesterlies - are blowing at a reasonable 46 km/h.
Since it is mid September, this weather can mean only one thing: Spring has arrived.
Winter can be pretty bad here once in a while - like last August. The gales were going over 100 km/h (as high as 180 km/h according to the Herald), blowing everything off. A glass panel got blown off and smashed into Jen's window, and I'd heard more windowpanes being smashed that night; part of the airport's roof got blown off.
Anyway, Winter can be pretty bad, but personally, I think Spring beats Winter hands down. There is no shittier season in Welly than Spring. Ours is definitely not the Spring of "shoures soote" and Zephirus' "sweete breeth".
So I don't care what the papers print about the 'official' start of Spring; when bad weather begins, Spring is here.
But even though my plans for today had literally been pissed on, the weather made me feel ... I don't know - comforted, maybe. Maybe the weather has been too fine lately - too many sunny, breezy weeks.
I think I've had a great day. I spent two hours lying in bed, not really dreaming, not really thinking - just losing myself in my own gentle cloudburst of pictures and words. When I finally got up, I allowed myself some coffee and spent some time scribbling a bedtime story from out of the blue; I translated seventy lines of Bēowulf listening to rainy-day music (and finally had the opportunity to play my Raincoat soundtrack - you really just can't play it on sunny days).
But most of all, I think, it's been a great day because I have a selection of thirteen graphic books to choose from - seven of which are by Neil Gaiman. I am currently very selfishly hoarding four books from The Sandman collection (Dream Country, Season of Mists, Brief Lives, and The Wake), two of the Death series (Death: The High Cost of Living, and Death: The Time of Your Life), and Black Orchid.
Then there is Roman Dirge's Lenore: noogies - which, in my uneducated opinion, is sort of a Tim Burton-lite. Lenore's very cute (I'd get her inked on me if I were the flippant sort), and the book's funny at times, but I think I still prefer Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories. I also have volume three of Jane's World, which is sort of a dykey sitcom, and Seth's It's A Good Life, If You Don't Weaken - I find myself too depressingly like the protagonist (Seth) to like it more than I do.
And I'm still very selfishly holding onto Kochalka's Peanutbutter & Jeremy's Best Book Ever!, and the two Klimowskis (The Depository: A dream book and The Secret), even though I don't dare to read the latter two without sunlight.
Maybe it's the full moon in my sign, maybe it my lack of sleep, or maybe I've had too much sugar; maybe all of the above. I feel almost delirious - a crush on Death, soft spots for Delirium and Destruction; I want sprinkle exclamation marks everywhere like rice at a wedding - and suddenly, strangely, delighted.
I am incoherent.
Oh well, I get these spells once in a full moon.
Tomorrow, maybe, it will go away.
Tonight, I'll howl, sky-clad, at the moon.
posted by s at 22:29
2 Comments:
aah! it's people like you who hoard the graphic novels! i've never find any in the libraries over here!
your post has made me long badly for my gaiman collection back home... Dream and Delirium are my decided favourites. :)
Haha... I am hoarding some Sandman books as well... Just need to get The Wake and I would have finished the whole series... Sigh, would have been nice to be able to read them in their sequential order tho'. Still, beggars can't be choosers...
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