Daylight savings is not the same as having a giant switch that turns the sun on and off, but it's nice to pretend so.

My head is filled with songs I never listen to, and with one I heard last night while sitting on the kitchen table in the near dark, thinking things over. It was coming from the other room, from a video on PBS. I'd turned the television on instead of the lamp, and who knows why? I was sitting on the kitchen table because I have no kitchen chairs, and do I even need them?

I keep thinking of horrible things, but I'm feeling alright anyway. I spent the whole weekend making a good mood out of late night walks, and rearranged furniture, and unexpected movies, and the little grey kitten that lives in my corner store. And, you know, miscellaneous.

Of the unexpected movies, one was surprising because it made me pay attention and like it, and the other was nicely seasidey, and it gave me that feeling I need to get sometimes. It's sort of the feeling of being on a bus at five in the morning when the air smells cold, or of walking in a strange neighborhood in the evening, right as it's getting dark. It's strange that those things give me the same feeling, a sort of startling optimism. Anyway, between movies a man in the street called out, "I'm cursed! I love being cursed!" He's got a startling optimism, himself.

I don't know, it seems like I can only see the upsides of things all of a sudden, and I feel luckier than everybody, now and again. There are little things, like the dread that I will die without ever having had a backyard, that I will never be fluent in any language that isn't English, that the scaffolders won't be gone until I am. But the great big giant things that I can't even say, those I seem to have placed on a high shelf. I can see them up there, but they aren't on the floor for me to fall over. The thing is, it's hurricane season, and I really like residual hurricane weather. It can make up for a lot.

I'm trying to be easier.