At night

Here’s some rambling from this weekend I wasn’t going to post, but today I’m thinking, “what the heck.”

It’s dark and it’s good.

I’ve taken to Cochin as the default font on my text editor, not that you’d notice. It has nothing to do with the darkness, but there’s plenty of time to get to that. I go back and forth, serifs – no serifs. Sometimes the flourishes bug me, as if they’re a waste of pixels, and pixels are something precious. Usually it means it’s time for Helvetica. Yeah, plain old Helvetica. But not now.

It may be dark, but I’m in the mood for a little flourish.

Right now, dark describes something everyone else can see too. It’s not inside for a change. It’s very much outside. I like the dark. It’s quiet, but oddly loud, the background noise brought to the fore, jumping at its chance to be noticed.

It’s a perfect November night in Florida. It’s somewhere in the sixties, but I only know because of a forecast overheard hours ago. I’m a Florida boy now, so naturally I’m a little chilled, but exhilarated too. It’s a change of pace. It’s a sign summer may finally take its bow, once again proud of all the sweat it’s produced. It’s a sign my favorite time of year is here, so short but savored all the more for the brief time it’s with us.

And it’s dark. I love my family and I hate to be without them for very long, but late at night when most of the neighborhood is sleeping or wishing they were, it feels good to hide for a while. It’s easy to hide in the dark. Places seen in plain sight during the day become shrouded in the dark shadows of secrecy. Or could be if my life was that interesting. Our front porch is already hidden from the street by small trees and bushes. I feel tucked away from the world. It’s ironic though, sitting here with my laptop glowing. It probably makes me the neighborhood odd ball, the soft glow of my MacBook poking through the branches. I’m in plain sight in the dark, where I’d normally be hidden.

What in the Hell is that boy doing at this time of night, sitting outside in the cold?

Indeed.

I suppose I’d care if I knew them better, but my friends are elsewhere. My friends only know my odd habits by what I admit to them… mostly.

Still, the dark inspires a feeling of calm, of time standing still, of invulnerability. The neighborhood is exactly the same, but couldn’t seem more different. Everything is at peace and nothing seems impossible.

Maybe it’s fitting for someone who’s mind feels trapped in darkness by day, feels liberated outside at night.