Monday, January 5, 2009
There are times when I sit down to write where the thoughts remain elusive. It is as if the thoughts themselves are not yet differentiated among themselves. They are there, they are moving about in their orbits, but they remain half glimpsed under the waters of a vast and still lake, currents, whose existence is only revealed in a drifting leaf on an otherwise undisturbed surface.
I think this evening is an evening similar to one of those still pools. I am enjoying it, sitting here, just watching that stillness. It is cool outside, nearing cold. The apartment is filled with small noises. Sometimes the rush of the heater fills the air with a soft white noise. When the heater falls quiet I can hear the small sounds. The ticking of the clock in the kitchen. The slight noises the freezer makes. The miscellaneous sounds from outside.
Well, I don't want to push the metaphor to far. It has been a nice quiet night that I have wandered through, reading, watching Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles on the DVR, in conversation with a dear friend, eating ham and bean soup, chasing it down with Neopolitan ice cream and a tall glass of water.
Not a bad night for elusive thoughts.
Perhaps a night crafted specifically for elusive thoughts.