So here's the thing about working nights. It's not that bad. I get to stay up all night, which I'd probably be doing anyway. There's never any traffic on my way home. It's quiet. It's peaceful. I get to sleep in till noon, which I would never get to do otherwise. (I actually get far more sleep on a regular basis now than I did during college, when I had 8am classes and 15-page papers and reading assignments and late-night conversations with roommates and insomnia and stress and caffeine and loneliness and despair.)

Actually, I still have most of those things -- just not the school related ones.

But nights are beautiful. I drive through the darkened drowsing city in my black Civic like a shadow of a shadow (and Salt Lake City isn't big enough to have enough lights to break the spell). Every night this week I have arrived at my house and emerged from my car to find a full moon shining down on me so brightly that the streetlamp is superfluous, almost profane. The clarity of the sky echoes the chill in the air and I think of music, something like a Chopin nocturne or an Iron & Wine song or John Coltrane playing "My One and Only Love." Sometimes the silence is more musical than anything. And I feel like I'm the only one who can hear it. And that makes me feel alone, but not always lonely.

2 Response to nocturne.

  1. Eliza says:

    I thought you wrote this post beautifully. I felt like I was driving home in the car with you. I loved it the shadows...the And sorry for the cheese but, you're not alone (when I say that please don't think of that stupid church song because I hate that song). There are many people that feel just like you and are waiting for you to be their friend. It just sucks finding them. Plus, you've got a friend in me (you may think of this song, actually do think of this song and pretend I'm singing it to you right now, I'm way off key and even dancing a little bit for you).

  2. Lindsey says:

    Can I just state, for the record of course, that I'm so happy you're blogging! I really enjoy reading what you write. Brilliant stuff, amigo.