Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

Spring.  §

Was out tonight doing some shopping for basics. Slowly. I do everything but work slowly these days. Digression. As I was saying—

I was out tonight doing some shopping. I had occasion to walk across some parking lots, to have my hair tousled by wind, etc. and so forth.

© Aron Hsiao / 2003

Point being: it smells like spring.

Winter is going to end.

— § —

Inside one store, it’s clearance time near the store entry, and garden time near the back and side.

Toys and indoor knickknacks? All red tags and disarray.

Then, yards away, rows and rows of pristine garden gnomes. Scaffolding from which wind chimes hang. Barbecue grills. Seeds and seeding kits for gardening.

— § —

Last year, I said that I was very happy for spring to come. Optimistic. Expansive.

It was all a blur. That past year did not exist.

And this year, I am not ready for spring to come.

I looked around in a kind of near-panic, something I never feel. Spring. Overwhelming, somehow. Unwanted.

— § —

The thing about spring is that spring is a liar. Spring is like a beautiful hooker in an overseas red-light district. She’ll make you forget about everything in the world, fill your ears with whispers of all kinds of exotic promise and escapism. Fragrant, wild, overpowering. Everything else fades—

—until it doesn’t.

Spring is a fraud; a fake. Fall and winter, they are honest. They tell it like it is. Home. Hearth. Dirt. Dust. Labor. Death. Time. Discomfort. Relief. Fall and winter are alive.

Spring is fucking with you, and because of spring’s particular charms, you don’t realize it until you suffer the crash.

— § —

I don’t know what I feel about summer.

— § —

Humanity seems a million miles away from me at times. All those other people—are they real? Hard to say. I’d have to get closer to investigate at all.

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