Turbine

Yesterday morning I walked out of the house and said, out loud because I've obviously lived in New York too long, "This is a fucking great-looking day."

I'm not sure exactly what I meant by that -- it just popped out. It was a very blustery day, with fat puffy white clouds getting blown around so hard they cast moving shadows on the sidewalk. Dramatic weather. And I live at the top of a long hill, so when I go out my front door I get a big-sky urban panorama -- not something you see just everywhere. I've learned to pay attention to the first things I think when I'm walking down that hill in the morning, having finally pried myself out of my warm safe house and pushed myself forcibly into the world. It's a combination of taking my psychic temperature and reading emotional tea leaves about the day to come -- not always precise, but accurate enough to give me at least the illusion that I have a handle on things.

Seeing big wind blowing like that always makes me wish I had some kind of windmill turbine on my roof and a generator in the basement so I could harness some of it and live a tiny bit more off the grid, give up a little less money into the greedy clutches of Con Edison.

I'm feeling a certain amount of good energy coming from within me as well, and the same urge to harness it -- although that requires a lot less hardware and a lot more attention. The weather inside and out don't always match up, but when they do it does, in fact, make for a fucking great-looking day.