The trees are doing yoga outside my window. They’re arching back into bridge pose, rising up into wheel, bending forward into downward dog. They are dancing, too; swaying in parabolas that have no definite rhythm but are not short on grace. The rain is shooting by the house in sideways curtains, pouring down the street into drains. I’m sitting here in my little attic apartment in Cambridge watching the storm as though it were a movie—the plot line of one branch intrigues me for a minute, but then the action shifts to the bouncing power lines, only to move to the thuds and creaks of trees brushing by the roof. It’s a suspense film—I’m waiting for a branch to fall, the lights to flicker and then die, for the internet to cut out, for my time left typing out words on my computer to begin to dwindle with the battery (more after the jump).
I went for a run this morning and Cambridge felt like Gotham at the beginning of The Dark Knight. Leaves blew ominously across the mostly empty streets, and the headlights of cars that that did go by were menacing. There was a sharp electricity in the air—everyone who had been
Especially as the election draws close, when all the news and events seem so planned and manipulated, it's really wild to experience something that can only be reported, that can't be analyzed, that can't be skewed. Of course, number and facts can be wrong, but it's not like Sandy is trying to convince any of us that she's pro-women or whatever it is she needs to be to get elected. Because she's a hurricane. It's a refreshing (though dangerous and scary) change.
My hurricane day so far has consisted of watching Fargo, of being glued to my twitter and instagram feeds watching others' experiences of the storm, of eating roasted pumpkin seeds, and of leading my own improvised yoga class in the kitchen (the trees inspired me—I even did tree pose. Har, har). I’m thinking there might be some doodling in my future, and perhaps I’ll start a new book. As long as the power stays on, I’m very content being trapped inside. It’s lovely to have an excuse not to do anything or go anywhere. I just wish the respite didn’t come with so much damage and danger for so many people. I’d take a busy day over flooding and harm anytime.
So here’s hoping that said damage is not too great, and that everyone in Sandy’s path stays safe, dry, and healthy. And that wherever you are trapped has a pretty hefty supply of wine and chocolate (because what else would you eat when a hurricane hits?). Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch some trees do more back bends. Their flexibility is amazing.
My afternoon.
