Afternoon

This afternoon, I went to the university to see Diana for two reasons: first, because the imminence of becoming human for awhile is too strong under the 5-inches thick books I’m currently wallowing and second, because it has been sort of our ritual to cap-off the ending of a semester by singing our hearts out everytime, though it has only been the second time since before I graduated and hopefully not for so many times in the future because Diana is graduating soon, too.

So we went off to the soccer field, sang songs, I* smoked, and notice that the field was sporting its usual beautiful arrogance under a familiar October skies. I bet all colors you could think of were there. I remember somebody saying one time that I should take a break and go outside every 4 PM because everything is beautiful every 4 PM.

I did, and it’s too beautiful in fact that this afternoon is the kind of afternoon that would make me feel sore, let’s say ten years from now. If you are walking in some cold sidewalk, downtown New York in your early 30’s, and its 4 PM then I think you would long for this kind of afternoon. I would long for it, would wish to go back to it just to see once again the motes of sunshine in Brownian motion, smell the effervescent smell of newly-mowed grasses, listen to the songs of the time, and to actually talk about the future of missing it. I would remember it in sweet amount of sore, teary-eyed kind of missing, even if a hot Chilean ass under the bed sheet is lying next to me.

To Diana, thank you for the wonders of this afternoon. I have dreamt of Haruki Murakami earlier when I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. In that dream, I was reading the novel you gave me, and Haruki was standing behind me all the while. After I’m done reading a paragraph, he would lean forward and erase it, paragraph after paragraph, in utter silence.

I’m now beginning to read his novel in eerie silence and I’m getting paranoid that somebody would lean over me and erase the paragraphs. Funny, Haruki is giving me an early Halloween feel. Tomorrow, when I wake up and find the novel erased, I would call you and we’ll both scream that yes, Haruki came to my room.

*Stress on this one