Yesterday was the first day that maybe felt like fall, a slight chill in the air as I cycled in the morning. The sky was a totally clear blue, and stayed so throughout the day, even as it warmed up in the middle. That night I read, by chance, Geoff Dyer's description of the same day. It was neither summer nor autumn. The sun had none of the intensity of summer but the trees were still thick with green leaves. Today was even cooler, even closer to fall. As I rode I thought about why I like days like that so much. The first time I really noticed this feeling it was exactly the same time last year. That exhiliarating combination of things: crisp air, clear sky, the intimation of a brisk fall ahead. The first time fall made an impression on me was two years ago, having just moved to Chicago, and I think this is source of the positive connotations. For the first time I felt like I was where I belonged and things that I wanted to come together were. I had a job where nothing was expected of me and that paid me (just) enough to live on. I had a place I could afford, good roommate, good friends around, and a working bicycle. That was, and still is, really all I need. That fall I cycled incessantly, exploring the city that I had called my own for six years but never actually known. I rode all over the city, eating in dingy ethnic restaurants and riding through neighbourhoods that were fascinating solely because they were there and new to me. I made new friends and revived old friendships, and being anywhere else in the world never occurred to me. The soundtrack to this period was Dear Catastrophe Waitress, which I listened to incessantly at work. I couldn't afford to buy the album, so I would listen to it on a Dutch radio station, from front to back all day, for weeks on end, building up to finally seeing them live at the end of October. By the date of the show I knew every word to every song. One lazy evening I had even cycled out to where the show would be to make sure I knew where it was and could get there by bus. It's a cliché, but it's really true that the more you own and the more responsibilites you have the less free you are. One of the reasons I miss that fall is that there was such a feeling of aimless possibility, that surely anything might happen since I was in a magnificent city with all of my basic needs covered, so I had the perfect foundation to build on. Now, two years later, so much has changed. I am doingat workwhat I want to be doing, I am in school studying exactly what I want to study, I have my name on a lease of an apartment instead of just hanging out there until the demolition crew comes, and I feel like Gulliver, tied down in every way, barely able to move. Every time I think I want to leave, I want to escape, I have to think, No, I have class next week. No, I don't have enough vacation time. No, I don't know anyone who would want to do that. No, that doesn't exist in this shithole of a city. I think about leaving, not constantly, but regularly, and I am painfully aware each time that I can't. I worry what stifling this urge will do to my psyche. I don't want to get used to it, I don't want to become resigned to the fact that for the next two years (or maybe only 20 months, I hope) I have dramatically reduced options. And then what? Will I be too old, too debt-ridden from school, too resigned to not doing things, to take advantage of it and do what I wish I had done. Will there still be things I want to do? In as way this is all academic. Leaving is not really an option, I can't afford to in so many ways. But the possibility is always in my mind, and I don't want it to go away. Joe ------------------------ Joseph Vess josephvess@yahoo.com ___________________________________________________________________________ Appel audio GRATUIT partout dans le monde avec le nouveau Yahoo! Messenger Téléchargez cette version sur http://fr.messenger.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+