finally, it feels somewhat "Autumn-ish" with the nights getting enough crispness that it causes a pagan urge for gratuitous nudity.....i'm not particularly pagan but a night with just a hint of chill or the first warm spring rain are somethings that bare skin is required for the proper enjoyment. nights here in the summer are "sultry" at best...hot, sticky, and very close; they are often suffocating. the first hint of the autumn chill and i want to try to soak in it....of course, then it's desirable and perhaps necessary to warm up by the snugglings with an appropriately fuzzed guy. (the better of the two straight boyfriends comes to mind).
the nights are noticeably longer and i think that's why i usually pull out old poetry books and revisit with some old 'acquaintances' like Carl Sandburg's "Fog:"
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
somewhere, there's a pic of Birdie the cat watching the fog through my window. probably on the drive of one of those dead laptops in the back of the hall closet (one day i'm going to de-crap my closets, drawers, and filing cabinets...a week or so ago, i stumbled on the masters for tests for a split 486/586 analytical biochem class i taught years ago).
the better of the two straight boyfriends and i went to the movie theater and saw Insidious 2....neither of us saw Insidious 1 but it didn't seem necessary. of course, i'm loving on the old houses and the wall-paper and not understanding why the folks in the film cannot figure out that when you're beating on someone possessed by the spirit of a serial-killer's mama you just don't stop in the middle of it....you keep beating that ass until your baseball bat; your hot, greasy skillet; or your 2x4 with a bent rusty nail in it breaks and your target is a greasy spot on the floor......then you get the hell out of there. these kind of confrontations are not to be executed in half-steps.