From: mdw@theory.TC.Cornell.EDU (Matt Welsh)
Subject: Absolutely unambiguous this time, I promise.
Organization: Cornell Theory Center
Date: Tue, 29 Sep 1992 19:26:13 GMT

I left the shades open and looked out onto the nightfall. Cold sodium
streetlamps in the distance, along the slope of a hill. Being on the
fifth floor lets you see quite a distance, sans any type of obstructions
like trees, people, buildings, clouds, etc. There we no lights in the
room and the streetlamps on the hill twinkled like stars. I remember
this very panorama one night while sitting in the darkness with a friend,
on my bed. She wanted all the lights out, so I obliged. The view was
so beautiful; it always is.

This morning I slept in too late and awoke to a dim cold day outside. I love
days like this because all of the colour seems washed-- the sky is dark,
there are no shadows-- the grass isn't as green and the sun doesn't blind
your eyes. It makes everything look dampened, soft, clean. The biting wind
was coming though the open window and I stood in front of it, bare chested,
and let my wet hair drip onto the carpet. A flock of birds, like a wave,
was repeatedly taking off and landing on the opposite rooftop. The music
I listened to this morning was the music of the rustling trees and the wind
outside. Rising and falling, like the birds. You can easily loose yourself
in the beauty that's around you every day. There are so many experiences
that every human being is privy to-- but never take the time to explore,
experience, feel. Like-- walking through the forest at sunrise. When 
everything is still wet with dew-- Standing in the cold tide at the beach,
letting your toes sink into the sand. Tasting the salt of the water on your
dry lips. Letting the sun beat down upon your back and shoulders. Sometimes
it feels so hot-- Sitting inside and watching it snow outside. And then,
tired of being a casual observer, throwing on your sweater and jacket to
run outside and let snowflakes land on your tongue-- Your breath wrapping
you like a fog-- Making snowballs that hurt your hand, they're so cold. 
And rolling in the ice and snow on your front lawn, making snow angels and
finally, after you get too cold, going back inside to shed cold wet clothes,
snow melting everywhere. 

You can go outside on any night and just breathe in the air and find feeling
in it, anything you want to interpret or remember. Or forget. We're so cold
to each other-- everyone should be in love with someone-- everyone should
have someone to hold and kiss and take to movies and write poetry about.
Life is too short, but people choose not to share their love with someone;
the most exhilarating beautiful perfect thing that two people can share.
I'll never understand why people close themselves off and not want to feel
that with someone. Wake the fuck up. Open your eyes. There's a world in
front of you. 

This morning the sky and the flock of birds reminded me of so much. Like
rainy days that were so beautiful I wanted to cry. Like splashing in puddles
with Kelly. Like dreams I once had, like falling in love. Like the seagulls
on the beach on a cold day. Like making love while kissing so passionately
that you couldn't breathe, saying over and over again, "I love you. I really
love you." Like a Saturday morning soccer game when I was 9 years old. Like
sitting and staring out at the bare dead tree through a dirty window, while
writing a song. The music washing over me, so loudly. A wall of noise. And how
sad it made me to leave and walk out into the world. Like being alone. Like
being together with someone and holding hands for the first time. Fitting
together so perfectly. Like a drop of perspiration falling from her bare
skin onto mine. Like sleeping in her arms. Like a 5 am van ride in January
to the mountains, so dark. So cold. So tired. Like looking into the eyes
of the one you love, and just knowing how she makes you so happy. How beautiful 
she is to you. And how you can never really tell her how it feels. 

That's what it was like. Something like that.


mdw
i'm a sensitive artist

-- 
Matt Welsh    mdw@tc.cornell.edu        +1 607 253 2737
Systems Programmer, Cornell Theory Center
  "Yow! Up ahead! It's a DONUT HUT!!"