Tuesday, May 22, 2012

my AC squeaks

Hey strawberries.
Hey sunlight.
And warm wind.

Hey Minnesota stars.
Hey driving with the windows down.
Hey there, classical music station.
I've missed you.
Gonna blast that classical music while I drive my eight-seat minivan.
Taste that?
That's called freedom. And probably also happiness.

Hey Midnight in Paris with bestfriendMara.
Hey bestfriendMara.
Hey sharing rhubarb strawberry pie.
Hey baking while reading.

Hey going to no meetings and no homework.


Hey Vision Reading.

“It is an amazing thing to watch people laugh, the way it sort of takes them over. Sometimes they really do struggle with it . . . so I wonder what it is and where it comes from, and I wonder what it expends out of your system, so that you have to do it till you're done, like crying in a way, I suppose, except that laughter is much more easily spent.” 

Hey Gilead.
This is beautiful.

Welcome to summer.

My little sister understands that summer is a concept. When you eat a strawberry in the sunlight, while walking in lush grass with wind tickling your face, it doesn't matter what else you do with your summer. Because right in that moment, you've experienced what everyone is talking about. That moment is called Summer with a Capital S. When you sit on a dock eating a hamburger fresh off the grill, and watch the sun set as you dip your toes in the lake, that's also Summer. 

Some concepts, like candy canes and eating fish, are much pleasanter in abstract than when actually experienced. But not Summer. Summer is little drops of heaven crystallized into single moments of intensely pure, overwhelmingly seductive pleasure. Summer is a season for hedonists.

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