-quote-

"Our main business is not to see what lies dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand." -- Thomas Carlyle

-gibson-

What I want to ask you is
Who are you?
Where are you?
Are you dreaming?
Are you there? The way I'm here?

-- william gibson, pattern recognition

-hope springs eternal -

It seems almost unnatural, how hope can make its way into the most depressed of moments in an individual's life. You could be chainsmoking on the porch, peering at the gloomy sky above you, and darkly pondering the decidedly hopeless (sic) outlook before you (metaphorically speaking). And then hope - in the form of these almost unobtrusive, sneaky, guilty-looking thoughts - creeps up to the top of the metaphorical heap (of other thoughts). And they seem so rational, these little thoughts - so rational that you don't immediately dismiss them as token daydreams; so rational that you can gather some strength from just thinking them. Of course, you still haven't done anything - metaphorically or otherwise - but you feel more upbeat nonetheless. I suppose that the big step into major depression is when the source of these gnomelike thoughts dries up.

P.S. Introspection's bad for you. :P

-applause-

As the chassis touches the earth with much noise and shaking, a smattering of applause is heard from random directions. It immediately reminds me of 9/11 and I wonder if the people clapping are American, or are people all over the world still feeling the shock (and relief when a flight goes smoothly)?

I feel a strange longing to join in the applause -- so perhaps it is the latter.

-rain-

The blinds are lowered halfway down the window, but you can still stand by it and see comfortably outside. Life seems different from the sixth floor window somehow - because of the window itself and the lowered blinds, I only get to see a little slice of life, if you will - a curved edge of the road with cars parked alongside it, the treetops below my window, the apartment building next to mine. I stare at the trees directly below the window - it's the end of August, but oddly the trees look like their leaves are already yellowing. It must be the rain.

Further in the distance is the road leading to the bridge, but you wouldn't be able to tell it was a bridge unless you lived here. Across the road there is a large furniture store, advertising itself with gaudy neon purple lettering. A long time ago, a local newspaper's head office building stood where the furniture store is. I think back to the view out of the window - how it used to be back then - and I feel a little sad. It must be the rain.

The smoke from my cigarette snakes its way up somewhere towards an unknown goal - does smoke know where it's going? Probably not. Along the way, it mingles with the steam from the coffee cup I'm holding in my left hand, balancing my wrist against the windowsill. I watch the smoke and steam mix for a while - they don't look so different in this light. It must be the rain.

It's almost 7:30 AM and I will be leaving this city for four and a half months momentarily. I feel strange relief and sadness all at the same time - I've never wanted anything more than to live in this city... yet I am happy that I will be leaving today. Perhaps I cannot feel too sad because I know I will be back - and when that happens, there will be no leaves on the trees below this window; it will be January and all will be grey and bare and dreary. Or perhaps I know that I will always have Budapest, no matter where life takes me. Or perhaps it's the rain.

fin

Teh first post!!!!!!!eleventyone!!!!

Isn't it amazing how you get sucked into creating yet another online thingamabobber? I don't know if I'll ever get to updating this; I struggle enough with my LJ, but - who knows? This might be more appealing! :P

--f out