It was chilly last night and my face lit up like a little white boy descending the stairs on a white Christmas morning. For thats what it was, Christmas season approaches. I can't even believe that we're in the middle of September already.
The "Back to School" sales papers toward the end of August and Labor Day weekend - marked the end to a fairly decent summer. I like Autumn and yes, I prefer to call it 'Autumn' than 'Fall'. I like Spring too, but not as much as Autumn. Spring hints at Summer's sweltering approach. Give me cold. Give me goose-down comforters and the joy of Starbucks and a ciggarette. Give me a ski trip and the bruises to go with it.
And this is one of my primal joys of living in New York. I always have something to look forward to -seasons and all they have to offer. I love winter in the city. It makes me think of jazz. JC in particular. No no... not Jesus. John Coltrane (who is a god in his own right).
And I love walking down 5th Ave. - after its been dressed in its best winter sets. And my eyes tear a little with the cold, which only makes the city's glimmer more noticeable. I love the scarves I wear, and the long coats with leather gloves. Collars turned up, steam rising from my mouth and walking briskly trying not to burn myself with my cigarrette, while balancing a cup of coffee in the other hand. I love wearing my suit covered in an overcoat and descending the steps of Lincoln Center after watching... perhaps... Itzak Perlman wheel onto stage and move me. And I love going out at night, and watching the silly girls in short skirts- as the forst on their knees makes them turn a distinct Telly-Tubby blue.
And I love looking forward to Delhi, as my visits are generally in Winter. Last year, New Year's was in Goa, this year it shall be in New York, with a taste of Delhi hopefully visiting me. I imagine another phenomenal couple of days. Everything else in the middle just seems to fade away.. I'm not sure if its a fortunate or unfortunate occurrence that I look from New Year to New Year and everything in the middle seems to become irrelevant. What is so bloody important about that day? The 1st of January.
What am I ... what is everyone so happy about? Is suddenly everything going to be different? Its become a ficticious cleansing period - when the slate is wiped clean. Perhaps thats why the concept of 'New Year's Resolutions' exists. I'm not going to lie - I like it. I look forward to the drinking. The celebrations. Meeting friends of old and making new ones.
I look forward to it all.
And as this post practically is in its entirety -I don't mind being corny this once. Not at all.
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2 comments:
Wow!! Sounds exactly like how I felt in the winter season in Paris!! I spent 2 winter seasons there, and everything in between was inconsequential (no wait, except for the summers! hehehe).. loved the way the city was a shimmering white, the parks glowed with the street lights falling on the snow, how tourists still had the enthu to go all the way up to the Eiffel when it was soooo cold, loved wearing my jackets, coats, suits, boots (those nice pointed ones which were in fashion but only ok for winters!), loved running to catch the metro coz i woke up late.. loved the fact that i could be sitting in shorts inside my apartment while it was snowing outside, and loved how my skin would glow as if i've just fallen in love!!
About New years though, I really dont know.. it was important at one point of time, but not anymore.. though i still party (i dont want to end up watching tv at 12), its not the high point of the season anymore.. thats pretty sad actually... anyways, c'est la vie
Glamourized to no end. The older I get, the more I appreciate the sheer "Marketing" of New Years eve. Much like Valentine's day. Ironic how little St. Valentine actually had to do with love and professing of it. New Years eve is another on that list. Bigger hoax in my book. But hey, its an excuse. A social lever people use to solicit involvement. After all "its new year's eve man!, lets party!"
I guess we should use NYday/eve for what it's worth. But watching that ball drop - fuck no!
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