So it's been more than a week since I last posted, but lately I've been going through one of those blank spots where I'm not seeing the stories and I can't for the life of me think of anything important enough to write about. The aftermath of the Naked Girls article surprised me (not to brag, but more than 7,000 hits on the Chicago Now site, roughly a thousand on this blog, and repostings or links in several places including a blog that Wikipedia called "(arguably) the most influential English-language blog on the web that is devoted to contemporary poetry and poetics," which seems like quite a thing to claim to be), particularly since part of what I had written was about how vulnerable I feel when I write. Good times. But that has only been part of the excellent but crazy mess of the past few weeks: Meetings! Karaoke! More naked girls! YouTube videos of homoerotic mashups of Star Trek and Nine Inch Nails! (Watch it, it's relatively amazing.) Pie! And on and on. I've met new people and seen old friends, but the general trend seems to be that everybody in the world wants to do something before summer ends.
Which it is. It's not even the middle of September and, while it's not cold yet, it's not really warm anymore either. This entire summer has felt like either spring or fall; I could probably count the days on my fingers where I was truly hot, with the exception being when I was inside my occasionally furnace-like apartment. (The worst part of studio life? No air circulation.) I never even really broke in my sandals. And now the season is on the wane, with the equinox fast approaching as I feel an increasing unwillingness to leave the house without a jacket. I can't really complain because I detest the sticky sweaty humidity of Chicago summers, but I also have to admit that I'm not quite ready to admit yet that we're heading slowly but surely towards winter.
Instead, I'm focusing on fall. When it's chilly and I feel on edge there's nothing I want to do more than cuddle and fall is a great season for cuddling, not only with people but with clothing, food, a quilt on the bed, hot tea instead of cold water. Especially these last few weeks when I've been so busy--in the good way, but busy is busy regardless of the content--I've been comforting myself with thoughts of things like worn corduroy and warm soup. My extremely elderly bathrobe (I'm pretty sure it was a Christmas present in the sixth grade) is beckoning me from my closet. I'm beginning to think about squash, and how fall is probably the only time I'll be able to comfortably bake bread because my landlords (thankfully) crank up the heat all winter. The leaves are beginning to change outside in spots, and even though I'm pretty sure that isn't actually supposed to be happening in September I'm trying to appreciate the color instead of worrying about the temperature dropping.
Besides, the transitional seasons are when I feel the most change happen in my life, and I've been feeling just slightly complacent lately. I am definitely not complaining--who would complain about feeling mostly very happy most of the time?--but I'm not feeling the radical joy and poetry anywhere near as much as I was a few months ago. I'm patiently waiting for it to come back, and it does in flashes, but I have a good feeling about this fall. Bring on the personal epiphanies, the mental breakthroughs, the heartlift and the adrenaline that accompanies all of these things; I'm ready to start moving again.