these sunshine days

It’s been such a good day today, I just feel I have to share it. The kind of day that, if caught in a picture would be of someone with the sun on their face, smiling softly at it, quietly, peacefully. Maybe because spring is here, or because I find the days I enjoy the most are those in which Freddie is happiest (which is to be taken in a completely positive view; not that Freddie is unhappy most days, or that we're unhappy at the same time). That makes me wonder how I’m going to calibrate my days when I’m away. Maybe some random Tuesday months away I will decide Freddie is having a good day and smile and feel at ease. Maybe someday in November when it’s raining in Cardiff and I can’t help but smile even though my socks are getting wet and I remember April 28th as I sat in the garden and Freddie bobbed away saying something like ‘are you sure you’re surest than sure, yar, in the land of sure you awr?’ even as we lost sigh of each other, and I also continued to mutter to myself, giggling.
That’s one thing I don’t like about changing schools. Right before I go I have people so close to me I feel there’s barely any space between us but when I’m thrown into a new environment everybody is miles away in their own little world and I’m alone in my island with no one to share my coconut juice with. I have far too much coconut juice for one person, and if not shared will drown me surely.
Also, in Freddie'scar, we were blasting jazz out of lowered windows and sometimes people looked at us and I thought about how to them we were just a momentary noise before we were taken away by tires on roads, and wasn’t that a good metaphor for human life? You walk past people and you may take no notice of them at all -silence to you- or you may catch a strand of a lyric or a warbling note from their existence, like Freddie and me in the car, strangers to ears that had never heard us. But there are other times when you know a person so well you know almost all their song by heart, like Freddie’s twisted, temperamental, healing soliloquy, or Cecil's song that crescendos away from a tepid, demure realm and into something that would charm any snake. Claire’s twirling, deceptive dance and Alex’s sweet yet cunning sound. Tori’s personal, friendly allure of notes and Methini’s detailed, intricate sound that is almost shy to the ear whilst Helen’s loud, crashing orchestras can’t help but make me smile.
Ah, if only life were a musical. To be able to burst into song when we wanted (and I almost did today, though replaced what would have obviously been a masterpiece of a song by asking Rachel to sing, which concluded in a cheery, ‘we’re all going on a, summer holiday!’) To be able to, when you are feeling at your worst, fall to your knees and utter such a deep, moving, howling sound that it would start raining the second it left your throat, the kind of rain that is so hard and overwhelming you wonder how it will ever stop.

‘[My chair is like an electric chair, I often muse, sparking thoughts within me. I think about history, because the future is obnoxious and impossible. Think of all the people in it, all of them, even the ones that no one thinks to remember. Or contemplate philosophy as if it were hard candy on my tongue, the kind that makes your teeth ache if you try to crack. Think of all the things everybody thinks about; nothingness, the afterlife, consumer rates, time, meaning, pointlessness, being. Fear and sex and pain. I think until I’m filled with it, until I can’t go forward because thinking about the very start, or the end of all things, is impossible.]’

As I was thinking this in the car I wondered if thoughts unuttered ever affected anybody except the thinker. And yes ok they do if those thoughts affect the thinker’s actions, but sometimes I feel that thoughts have an energy of their own, that reverberate out of all of us and if we had a sixth sense we could feel the shape and mood of those thoughts. Which a lot of people might find disturbing, but I found oddly comfortable because though I don’t want people knowing what’s going on in my head (I need at least a place which is mine, the reason I like dreams so much) it’s nice to think that those thoughts are influencing something.
Which reminds me for some reason of how when I make a conscious decision on something small...such as what to have for lunch or something, I always think, ‘in another realm, I chose the other option,’ and that invariably leads me to think if it would have made any difference in the long run and then just to prove that all my decisions have consequences I act differently and oddly in retaliation of that decision. For example, if I chose a cheese and tomato sandwich instead of an omelette one, I would run around the kitchen instead of walk, and brush my teeth for a minute longer, or quickly think of an idea for a story or a picture or a metaphor that may affect, like a snowball, some other development in life. And so that sandwich is much more than a sandwich and decisions are made to be counted...
My god I’m in love with the Atonement soundtrack. Some cloudy day when I’m feeling what I call ‘placeless anxiety’ I would love to make myself a nest of those notes, of the way Damien Rice whispers in ‘cheers darlin’, the way it snows in Edward Scissorhands, the way Garneau cried in Halloween, the way Cat Power runruns and just sink into it, close my eyes and sink, sink, sink.
I don’t want to die but when I do, it would be a lot better if Elegy for Dunkirk were playing and that high, solitary string that sometimes peeks was the very last I hear and for a moment I could remember these types of days and, even if I’m in terrible pain, smile, if only a little.

What is the very last song you want to hear?