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"And the stars are projectors, yeah, projecting our lives down to this planet Earth." - Modest Mouse


1.15.2004

Commuting Between Worlds 

So I left Felton this morning and, in spite of a night of rainfall, the sky was clear blue, beautiful and sunny. The trees carpeting the San Lorenzo Valley were almost luminescent, radiant in their multihued greenness. Thrilled as I was to see the sun, it bears little on the state of my head on a thursday morning as I ascend towards the summit of HWY 17. In some ways the sunny weekdays are even more painful, highlighting the simple fact that I, like so many millions upon millions, will spend the day indoors at work. In my case, my time is slowly chewed at inside a tall, hermetically sealed office building in downtown San Jose. The air is a heady blend of industrial cleansers, cafeteria food, human scent, and the dull burning of thousands of computers, all filtered and recirculated. In the winter the building is a slightly warm 63 degrees. And in the Summer, when it's a lovely 90+ degrees out (I'm a SoCal transplant so NorCal winter weather is, to me, extreme), but even in Summer the building remains at 63 degrees. Combine this with the office walls and the work hive is as insulated from nature as possible, short of blacking out the windows altogether.

Anyway, as I said today began under beautiful skies but as soon as I was careening off the summit towards Los Gatos, like descending into the underworld of Hades, the sky turned a dull, mercurial grey, sucking the color out of the trees and shrubs once so proud and bright. And I don't mind winter weather so much, especially the storms. But it's the lazy hazy overcast, miserly with their barely condensing water, boring and motionless. Just grey. It reminded me of Seattle. And when people say it rains a lot in Seattle, this is what they're talking about. Not torrential, dynamic, electric, storms...No, just a blanket of uniform grey cloud and a relentless drizzle for, like, 7 months out of the year. No escape. No hope.

So here I sit in my office getting paid to waste precious corporate time writing this blog. And outside Life continues unabated, indifferent to the grey valley or the beautiful sunny day in Santa Cruz. Yet it feels like every cell in my body is straining towards those sunny trees, the Wilder single-tracks, and the glowing green bluffs overlooking that Great Blue Pacific.

Yawn. I need to get back to work.

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