I “should” be outside on such a “gorgeous day”. I should be out and about, among the hoi-polloi, amidst the hullaballoo that is no doubt happenin’ somewhere in this big, sprawling ci-tay, doing something summery and lighthearted … footloose ‘n’ fancy-free … skipping down the sidewalk with a kitten in a wicker basket, singing a sweet tune to myself, smiling at passersby. Helping the inevitable lost tourist find his way to his destination, and not giving him wrong directions on purpose so he finds himself atop the Statue of Liberty when all he really wanted to do was find the nearest Houlihan’s.
I should be outside, but I’m not. No, I’m not. I’m not coming to you by way of some laptop hookup at the park, or even from a bistro tabletop, where I’m eating chilled asparagus with my fingers and enjoying a refreshing glass of iced tea with a slice of citrus fruit jauntily winking up at me, all of us grooving and delighting in the beauty of the weather, the glory of the sunshine, the sweetness of being alive on this planet in this city …
No, I’m inside. Inside, and wishing it would rain. Wishing it would rain so I could go outside and feel safe and protected and “in my element”. Wishing it would rain on everyone’s parade, whether literal or figurative. Wishing the sun would just go away, stop mocking me, stop taunting me. Sun, I have news for you. I know this is going to hurt your feelings, but I’m sure someone will come by in a nanosecond and make you feel all happy and peppy again.
Sun, I don’t like you. I don’t like the way you seem to want to force me to come out and play with you. I don’t like your smile. I think you’re pretty and I can appreciate you in really really small doses, but today I don’t even want that. If you really want to be nice, Sun (I would address you properly and prefix that with “Mr.” or “Ms.”, but I’m not sure of your gender and I wouldn’t want to offend you), you’ll send in the clouds.
Not the clowns, you joker. The clouds.
Clowns don’t thrill me either. They, like you, make so many people laugh and clap their hands together in irrepressible glee … but at least there are those who admit that they can’t stand clowns. I only know of one other person who shuns the sun the way I do, but unfortunately she left Manhattan yesterday for Los Angeles, where the sun will taunt her there the way it does to me here.
Fun in the sun? Not for me.
A blast when it’s overcast? You got it.
So c’mon. Bring it on. Sun, if you really want me to be happy, you’ll just back away quietly. Step aside … and let the rain shine in.
P.S. Don’t hesitate to listen to the song I provided. I know I’ve provided some pretty ridiculous music here before, but I would never subject you to the Judy Collins warble that makes me bleed from the ears.