fallen summer

I've watched a lot of horror movies, but something really horrifying crossed my mind today: I'll probably have no plans for Halloween this year. Is that ironic?

The problem with stubbornly anchoring yourself to childhood fun is that eventually you're expected to grow out of it. When is latching onto something outdated? It has nothing to do with time, it only has to do with people. It's not pathetic if peers are doing it as well. Fortunately, over the years, I've kept an enthusiasm for Halloween that I'm happy to say is quite contagious. The past couple of summers have been cruel, however, and that may throw a wrench in the works.

Summers where lots of my friends get married are known as cruel summers. I use the term because the one summer three of my closest friends got married and the derivative Ace of Base remake of Bananarama's "Cruel Summer" was popular on the radio at the time (and yes, it was half a lifetime ago).

I know there will be scary movies. I know there will be scary music. There may even be another Halloween movie made (although I'm still putting together the outtakes from last year, so there's a good chance there won't be), but I'm not sure who I'm going to be hanging out with at Dee's at 3 a.m. Halloween night in ridiculous costumes. I don't know what party I can possibly feel comfortable at (or more comfortable than usual, anyway).

I'm trying to worry early, because I realized today that it's August. I was scorching hot in the afternoon, but after coming out of Barnes and Noble at 9:30, I felt a twinge of autumn air. My seasons are off. I need to mind the near future if I'm to have a fulfilling present. I've mentioned before that by now we've got clockwork programmed into us. Tapping into the universal clockwork is a great way to experience fulfillment (or at least pleasure).

For example, springtime really is for romance. That's when they're more open to the idea. After the solstice, it may be scorching, but they're cold as ice. They aren't aware of this either.