Lost in the Fog

       It was cold but not windy. The kind of cold that takes a bit to sink into your bones: starting with a quick nip at your neck to make you draw your jacket in closer, walk a little faster. Mid-evening and already the fog had long since settled in, so thick that the streetlights were having trouble shining. They looked more like small holiday lights, popping their light through the nearly opaque air.

   On this evening Jonathan was hurrying home, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and mouth, hat almost pulled down to his eyes. His feet made swift almost smooth steps on the pavement, nothing but determination in his gait. And so, a few minutes later Jonathan found himself completely surprised that he was entirely lost due to the fog.  It was thick, yes, but he walked this route everyday: down the same blocks, round the same corners, without looking he knew when the pavement turned to cobblestone just from the soles of his feet. He could walk home blind! or...so he had thought.

     Looking around in every direction, Jonathan had no idea where he was. None. Not an iota. He started to breathe a little faster, no he shouldn't panic. There was a park bench to his right, perhaps if he sat for a bit he could get his bearings.

    The mist and fog whirled beside Jonathan to reveal an old woman knitting a gargantuan sock that seem to go on and on. "Hello, M'dear, suffering a loss of direction?"

  "Yes, I've gotten completely turned around.  I'd believe you if you said up that way is the future and behind us lies the past.  Or to our right is Chicago and to our left sits New York City.  It all seems the same all around and its only growing colder."

The old woman continued knitting, her hands flying about to a rhythmic pattern. "Mmm I see.  Humour an elderly woman for a moment, won't you?  Close your eyes.  Now picture yourself still seated on this bench, but mentally push away the fog.  As if you're a painter and with each brush stroke a swath of fog will disappear."

  "This all seems a bit strange and I've never really painted in my life" Jonathan interjected.

"Hush now!  If it seems strange that's because it is: now keep mentally painting the fog away. When you've done that, imagine this bench is on the side of the road-"

  "But aren't we on the side of the road already?"

"-Didn't I say to hush? Maybe we are on the side of the road and maybe we aren't, I told you to imagine.  Right now you're in the fog and you might be anywhere. Now imagine we are on the side of a road.  Picture that the road we are near is the road that leads to your house. Have you got all that in your head?"

   "I think so" Jonathan answered

"Good, then open your eyes" The old woman said, a smile in her voice.

Jonathan opened his eyes to find himself sitting on a park bench alone. The fog had lifted and the stars shone in the sky. Jonathan shook his head and started walking home once again.

Favourite Albums of 2011

Hello everybody! Its the end of the year, so that means I get to tell you which albums I really enjoyed this year. Go check 'em out if you want to!

1) Gotye - Making Mirrors
2) The One AM Radio - Heaven is Attached by a Slender Thread
3) The Decemberists - The King is Dead
4) Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - Here We Rest
5) Bright Eyes - The People's Key
6) Death Cab For Cutie - Codes and Keys
7) Okkervil River - I am Very Far
8) M83 - Hurry Up, We're Dreaming
9) Foster the People - Torches
10) Starfucker - Reptilians
11) I'm From Barcelona - Forever Today
12) Mates of State - Mountaintops
13)Of Monsters and Men - My Head is an Animal
14) Givers - In Light
15) Wilco - The Whole Love

Archibald

   Archibald stood up and took a bow.  He looked at all the smiling faces and realized that this was it.  This was what he had worked for.  The theatre was filled to the brim, people were standing outside hoping to catch a glimpse of the virtuoso.

   "This must be a bit like what Heaven feels like", Archibald thought as he soaked in the applause.  The air tasted sweet as honey; sugary, effervescent, joy. The kind of memory to look back on in the darkest pales of melancholy.

  The crowd began to chant, "Encore! Encore! Encore!" Over and over again.  So Archibald re-seated himself, left hand flipping violin to chin, right finding the bow.  With a minuscule nod the backing orchestra readied themselves.  He closed his eyes and let his fingers dance upon the strings.  The orchestra followed Archibald's lead, improvising, adding emphasis. The Victorian crowd erupted with approval, shouting, whooping with elation and uncharacteristically shedding their carefully arranged composure.  Wild abandon became the style for the night.  Archibald reveled in it and created music that would not be heard again for years to come.  Jazz was born if but for a moment.  A night to live on through nothing but memory, only familiarity.

The Sandman a Knockin'

Exhaustion, it did cover me
like a blanket on a bed
simply, yet completely
My thoughts were obscured
like a figure in the fog
Portentous pickles in jars
Loquacious butterflies, tin bars
The sandman came a knocking
I made no protest to his mocking,
But wink an eye did I
and let myself flutter off to slumber

Of Monsters and Men
Little Talks

First Official Snow

   Hello everyone, today was awesome because today was for me the first official day with snow of the year.  And you might say to yourself, "But Eric, it has snowed a decent number of times already this year!" Yes, that might be true, but I haven't gotten to witness them either because I have slept too long or the snow has melted, or snowed while I was somewhere else. Today my mom and I went shopping and at the outdoor shopping center the snow was falling gently throughout the afternoon, which made it start to truly feel like the holiday season. So here's to the first official snow fall that I have been able to witness!

Adjustments

I think its time I adjusted the layout of my blog, time to spice things up a bit. Things will be spiffy, I guarantee it. Now to work..or over the next few days probably..this will take some deciding.

A Cold December Night

   She lost her love on a cold December night.  No her lover didn't die; he told her as they walked by the river front, "Babe, I just can't do this, I don't love you any more"

  They parted ways, she kept walking along the river as snow started falling softly.  She felt her love go out like a light, a candle's flame extinguished by the wind.  In its place was only an icy numbness that she found she was perfectly okay with, in fact her new state matched the weather wonderfully.  She smiled ironically and laughed, "Aren't I supposed to be hurting?" she thought to herself.  Well, suppose not, now that there was no heart left to be broken.  She walked on and on, coming to a vista looking out unto the river and connecting bay.  She leaned against the railing, watching as the flakes of snow were getting bigger: so this was what it was like to lose one's love.