December 6th, 2014


(no subject)

Saying this will probably jinx it, but for the last however-long-it-is I've been in bed well before 11 and occasionally before 10. A dozen years ago 11 was when I *began* working, just for comparison purposes. The upshot of course is that I'm awake at what the world regards as a reasonable time and don't suffer unduly when I have 8:30 shifts, at least as long as I can bike. Upshot also is that I get to go to the Shaw coffee shop that opens at 7 and have a latte and croissant in the bright empty white-and-concrete of the place. The early morning sky is the nostalgic bumpy cobalt and grey of so many airports in so many European cities, way-too-early flights from Amsterdam or London or, even farther back, Bordeaux; and the world seems a larger and different place. (Early morning airports to and from Japan had different kinds of skies even if the season was still the same.)

I like this season, actually: the dry early winter before snow. A certain timelessness to the subsiding leaf piles, ground to powder in the gutters (sometimes; and sometimes frozen lumps in the middle of the street) and the tidily or not so tidily raked yards, and the uniform grey, a designer colour that doesn't yet depress. Add precipitation and it depresses in spades, of course; but dry it references Tokyo and (for no good reason) the archetypal Japan-reading December of 1985, one of the happier periods in my life.
Collapse )