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With some pride I realize that, despite the fact that I am become a creature used to the warmth and indolence of the indoors, I can still walk outside and not be chilled by the night air.

(I am in fine form.)

I spent today reading, without having set out to do so. I suppose it came from a lingering wish to be done with this book and move on to other things. It was one of those magnetic trances that I so seldom fall into these days. Every once in a while it occurred to me that I could stop reading and do other things that needed doing, but ever it was an errant thought that flew quickly through my zen head.

I wonder if I have been indolent these past weeks; maybe I have. Indulgent at the very least. I've felt very unsure of myself.

I was surprised when I reached the end of the book; it felt like I ran headlong into a wall. I didn't see it coming. I'd essentially been sitting on that couch all day, so I decided to take a walk. I really really enjoy taking walks, but I do it so rarely.

When I stepped out into the night, it was a different creature than I've been used to. I forgot how long it's been since I've been in the night. Lately I've seen it as something to move through--I go to my car, I drive to meet my friends, and we do something in(different)doors. In times like that, the night is just a darkness.

Walking in the night is something else entirely. Nice thing about my little town, I am not worried about safety--you don't really have to watch your back on this island. So wandering is simply an exercise in curiosity, or something. For once, I didn't bring something with me--not my cell phone (in case of danger), nor my notebook (for the inevitable inspirations). Just me, wearing a coat. (And clothes, you.)

There are so many different qualities of the night. It is different from the day, but in ways that are other than we think. It is very intimate. Walking around, I feel as though I am more in tune to what is happening behind the walls of the houses around me. I can hear a phone ringing inside an dark house, as though I could just walk over and pick it up. And it is really disconcerting to look across the street and just be able to watch TV with the people in their living room. It's discomfiting, even though nothing is actually wrong. Even when people's shades are drawn, the light that seeps through is enough to make me feel as though I am included. I like it. I realized with regret that my house doesn't do that--I don't have any windows visible from the sidewalk, and my door faces the back of the house. (I content myself with the idea that then, my house is a secret.)

Oddly, because of the streetlights, the night is more gold and brown than it is black and blue. Plants have the integrity of etchings, while the open inside of a house takes on garish color. The night air, it eases me and keeps me together.

I won't say, 'I would like to do this more often', becase then I will be disappointed if I don't. I'll only say, I really enjoyed this walk tonight.

---

I have decided not to move out, and I am thinking of getting a kitty.

10:59 p.m. 2004-03-30�

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