Obviously, I could not let the King’s birthday pass without some recognition, so this one’s for Elvis Presley, the greatest romantic hero ever born.
I have been going for a walk every morning at 4:00AM as part of one of many New Year’s resolutions. Honestly, I might as well as go for a walk at 2:00AM as there is no sign of the sun or the promise of morning visible so early tis time of year. But seeing the moon hanging so low it seemed as if it could be picked right out of the sky if I only had a ladder and access to a roof, and looking up to see the myriad of stars strewn across the sky like diamonds against velvet (as if the sky’s only purpose for being present was to accentuate the stars) are great ways to begin a new day, let alone a new year. Though the residential street I traverse upon for 2.46 miles is quite dark, the soft glows of incessant televisions and the harsher streams of outdoor lighting lessen the possible treachery of the road, and set my mind reeling. What kind of person falls asleep with the television on, and what kind of friend does not mind? What kind of family has a bevy of halogen lamps scattered about their home’s perimeter, activated by motion? What could they possibly be trying to detect or spot? And who the hell goes for walks at four o’clock in the morning, gazing into unguarded bedroom windows to see what she can see? The cold weather does not bother me, nor does my breath exiting my nose and mouth in tiny puffs of vapor. The stillness and silence and darkness do not bother me either. I worry that sometimes I am most comfortable alone, standing singularly along the edge of life as a mere observer. I am terrified that I may be content with only watching. I also worry that realization makes me really, really creepy.