can winter depression begin with the first snow?
this is the question i've been asking myself since that momentous event occurred a week and half ago.
despite being on a well-deserved all-expenses-paid-by-me vacation to chicago last weekend, i somehow managed to get roped into a friend's colossal home improvement project, requiring us to traverse the breadth of chicago no fewer than four times as we hit up various home furnishing/building supply/cheap swedish tubular steel purveryors. as we passed the pottery barn at north and clybourn for the third time, i awoke from my sawdust-induced daze to see a young couple in their twenties dash fearlessly across the busy street, darting between our audi and the car in front. i had just a second to look at their faces so of course i checked out the dude first, and....yep. that would be the guy i have an ENORMOUS, BALLOONING, PENDULOUS, ALL-CONSUMING, MIND-ALTERING, SCALP-ME-AND-THEN-BEAT-MY-FUCKING-BRAINS-OUT-WITH-A-BRICK-IF-I-FIND-OUT-YOU-DON'T-LOVE-ME crush on. crossing the street, and yes, entering the pottery barn.
without thinking, i opened the door of the speeding car and rolled out onto the road, sustaining-
wait, no i didn't. like the asshole that i am, i waited dutifully as we searched for a place to park so the aforementioned fixer-upper "friend" could pick up some stuff from a neighboring store. as we endlessly circled the block i reflected upon my past with d. he'd frequently shopped at the department store where i was gainlessly employed, never buying anything. one day, at a coworker's encouragement, i introduced myself and initiated pleasant conversation. days later d. returned and asked for my phone number. three dates later and several julia robertsian moments of giddy bedroom dancing by myself, i lost his number. two years later,(two years!) i ran into him at a gas station. plans were made, numbers exchanged. another date was had, and while sparks did not exactly fly, there remained a concern. long story short, numbers were lost again, phone numbers were subsequently changed, phone numbers were then found and called, certain mccullens went, "FUUUUUUUCK!". and yes, certain environmental lawyers severed all ties to ann arbor and moved to chicago.
by this point about fifteen minutes had passed and i tried to play it cool with my buddy ("i'm just gonna go say hi to d.! it's been awhile, you know. catch up") before fairly running out of the parking structure and up to the doors of most hated pottery inferno. a quick glance around the first floor yielded nothing more than a few overzealous be-aproned employees and a lot of olde tyme-y telephones and fake apples spilling artfully out of overturned baskets. yet hope was not lost- a staircase! heart pounding for no good reason, i ascended, stood at the top,looked around, and--
nothing.
naturally.
well surprise, surprise. fucked in the ass by life again. i slunk out of the cinnamon-scented store feeling like the biggest jerk in the world, well, after robert downey jr., that is. mad at myself for allowing myself to to be made a fool of for my own ridiculous hope, a hope completely unfounded in anything more concrete than a bunch of stupid, schoolboy dreams. what a retard! i felt totally humiliated before my friend, who actually did his unemotional spartan best to impart to me the futility of the experience. picture john malkovich in dangerous liaisons consoling michelle pfeiffer- "it was beyond your control." anyhow, you get it. shitty rest of the weekend. smoked pot. got drunk. blew a bunch of money on a marc jacobs jacket* at barney's. wished to be home, sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine listening to chalet lines by belle and sebastian on an interminable loop.
more or less a normal weekend. now add to this bullshit several inches of snow and take away the sun for five months. thanks, god. fuck the gingerbread men-- i think i'll be decorating my christmas tree with quotes by nietzsche this year.
*okay okay, so it was 'marc' by marc jacobs. fuck you.