You've got the music in you. So what?

Yesterday, I saw my first snow. I didn't get to tell anybody that.

Big wet chunks feathery ice floating-- rain parading in furs. From the fourth floor of a building the air is filled, you feel as though there should not be space for you if you go outside, or that it ought to bear you up if you were to jump into it.

Everything was gently capped white.

Today you wouldn't know it: it's 65 degrees and sunny, all the white gone. Only puddles (which could have been anything but snow) and my memory--and I've found that that memory doesn't mean much. I walked along the Charles this morning, slow, dragging my feet (probably hoping for someone to come save me), and watched the nightmare perfect New England scene and tried to feel enchantment again, and I couldn't conjure anything up. [They say, or I've heard, that it is technically true that one cannot recall the sensation of pain, one may remember feeling hurt, but not be able to actually feel the feeling again. (This is why women continue having babies.)]

So I just listened to the New Radicals and I just want to believe them. But love is saying difficult things. That's what I always tell myself when my feet are weak, when I find bruises on my hands and head and legs and arms and remember later how they got there: this is hard, and it is worth it. It must be. Saying exactly what one means is a difficult thing; an academic pursuit of a supreme and infallible ability to discern, elucidate, articulate, communicate-- To be accurate. To be right. To be truthful. To be wise. To act just. Will just thinking harder allow me to understand and resolve? I don't know how things can happen-- brain function, music and literature, language acquisition. I get the feeling that thinking harder won't do the trick. I don't know if this has to do with law (Is this right?) if thing A happens then B must be true. If B is true, C is invalid. Can it be? Sleep. Drink. Eat. Procrastinate.