|it never rains in california
||[Mar. 26th, 2009|03:25 pm]
It's storming in Houston in the way it never seems to anywhere that isn't tropical, or at least semi-tropical, and the whole sky keeps splitting open like a bursting balloon, the water pouring heavily through air so wet and warm that it feels ripe. I gave my talk this morning and then wandered the Village; made bracelets at the Bead Shop, bought brass bells and Kindereggs, got caught in the storm, and wandered back under my umbrella drinking a diet soda. |
Strange to be back someplace I used to live. It makes me a touch nostalgic, but not much. There are people I miss, but I'd never go back to the shared living spaces and the horrible, punishing hours I used to subject myself to. I take better care of myself now. I do miss the city, though. Miss the storms, the lush verdant springs, the crazy rambling growth and decay, the way that Houston seems to eat its own history -- a serpent consuming its own tail, or a phoenix rising from the ash before it's even finished burning.