November is around the corner. It is a thresholding month in the East, marking the move from fall to winter. Everything starts to feel different. The weather is never certain. The air gets colder and clearer. Color sharpens - the yellow leaves and black branches against grey skies, the dulled green of wintering grass. It is not the easiest month. It's unpredictable. It signals change.
I was visiting a friend last week, and we were laughing about my imaginary outfits. I've been making them for two and half years now, and I can see, regular as clockwork, the same impulses as the seasons roll around. Last week, I started putting an outfit together only to realize I had essentially created the same thing exactly one year earlier, with slightly different pieces. This is why I am not a fashion professional, I suppose - I have very little inclination towards the new. I like what I like, and each year, I find the new things that fit into that profile. My lens is narrowly focused.
Blogging is interesting that way. It distills. It can clarify your fixations, put them into a comprehensible and tangible form. The dangerous thing is that you can find yourself being reduced. Things are never as simple as they seem, though - people particularly. There is a place for things that don't fit. Life is fundamentally unruly, and the wild uncontrolled strangeness adds richness to being.
It's part of why I like November. It can mean fall, or it can mean winter. It is always undefined until it is over. Each year, it demands to be lived to be known.
I was visiting a friend last week, and we were laughing about my imaginary outfits. I've been making them for two and half years now, and I can see, regular as clockwork, the same impulses as the seasons roll around. Last week, I started putting an outfit together only to realize I had essentially created the same thing exactly one year earlier, with slightly different pieces. This is why I am not a fashion professional, I suppose - I have very little inclination towards the new. I like what I like, and each year, I find the new things that fit into that profile. My lens is narrowly focused.
Blogging is interesting that way. It distills. It can clarify your fixations, put them into a comprehensible and tangible form. The dangerous thing is that you can find yourself being reduced. Things are never as simple as they seem, though - people particularly. There is a place for things that don't fit. Life is fundamentally unruly, and the wild uncontrolled strangeness adds richness to being.
It's part of why I like November. It can mean fall, or it can mean winter. It is always undefined until it is over. Each year, it demands to be lived to be known.
