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GLINT


Spinning your umbrella over your head; You should be in bed but you're here instead: 10.13.09


Well, finally. Yesterday ushered in the finest fall day yet--overcast, chilly, and the sky even had that deadened, flat look to it--until the sun came out at the end of the day and ruined it all. Of course, there may be no better place to get your first taste of autumn than Cambridge, MA, where I was last week. Except it was all so perfectly autumnal and collegiate and tweedy and privileged, it almost ruined the whole seasonal introduction for me. I like my fall with my own town's twist on it.


Which is why I hoofed it around my neighborhood on a long dusk walk this weekend to soak it all in. Actually, I would have far preferred to have been on my bike, but in perhaps one of the most authentic twists of my dear old town, it was stolen last week. But, no bother. I probably saw more on foot than I usually would. And I even got to help two kids chase their ratty terrier-type doggie, "Gizmo," back into the house. A dated, yet utterly appropriate, name for the grotesque little pup.


Anyway. It's funny, because this was precisely what I was doing a year ago--walking endlessly around my neighborhood. Except then, it wasn't my neighborhood yet, and I was restlessly wondering where I should go and what was next. On Saturday night, I picked my way among the streets I know so well now. Pumpkins are standing sentry on stoops again, black and orange decorations peek out from windows, and a misshapen chorusline of gourds kicks up inside the front transom of one of the houses I wish was mine. Not that I was disappointed to turn finally onto G. Street and follow it down the hill to my own little house. Especially when I looked over and saw a black cat lithely gliding along the curb across from me.


And it was still a restless walk. Not the itchy, antsy, vaguely dissatisfied restlessness from a year ago, but nonetheless, there was some edge there. Which is why, I think, I am continually finding myself awake when I should be sleeping, out when I should probably be in, working when I'd rather be napping, painting when I'd really be better off writing, and generally feeling slapdash but somehow ably covering the waterfront of what needs to be done and what I want to do.


Now if I could just get this guy's music out of my head and put this book down, I could really get things started.


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