January Blues


There are still Christmas lights clinging to everyone’s eaves. Holiday wreaths are still hung on everyone’s doors. All of those “Seasons Greetings!” cards are still tacked on to the fridge. It feels rude to throw them out, even when attachment to a company card can be ranked somewhere between, “non-existent,” and, “why the fuck do I still have this?”

The weather still sucks, and the whimsy of the snow falling as one shops for gifts has given way to bundling up with a sense of grim foreboding. On the coast, all it does is rain, and it makes every day feel fatigued from the first moment.

These months are always hard. The December slog gives way to the January Death March, before all who survive that manage to stumble into February with all of their resolutions dashed, their bank accounts slim, and all hope for the rest of the year burned down and stamped out somewhere around the same time that a vitamin D deficiency kicked in and the needle clicked back on the 20th shoe-gaze release of the year.

It is the 22nd of January today and I am alone in my apartment. It is a sunny day today and I am making a cup of coffee. On sunny days such as this there is a clarity and a clearing; I can look outside and imagine what spring will be like, and it gives me hope, and it gives me the drive to keep going through the rest of this month and the next.

A birdsong from the telephone wires outside. A young woman reading Sartre on a lawn where the grass has dried in the sunshine. Images to grow nostalgic about before they have even happened, like picturing a victorious end to a race that you’re only halfway through. Thoughts like this work to keep me warmer than all of the scarves I bought on a whim (and ended up never wearing) and help me sleep better than all the cups of chamomile tea I consume at night because drinking coffee too late in the evening has burned me out on poor writing, and forced me to take in too much shitty internet activism (don’t you people ever sleep?)

I finished my coffee, and then took all of the holiday cards I had on the top of the fridge and threw them in the trash. Except yours of course, I kept that one, because it was from you and it felt rude to throw it out.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s