No rhyme or reason

Parts of October are unsettling for me. It has to be the weather, indecisive and dusty, that makes me want to see more colour, and buy more pink. To wash my hair twice a day to get the smog out. The chill isn't even here, but it's taking too long. It's reminding me of U specials and window seats, and how cold the steel would feel against bare skin. Weekdays just seem loaded with pollen and queer doubt. Nothing thats easy to pin, but my cravings are silly and bursting with little niggling tangents. I feel the need to switch from Aloe Vera lotions to thicker Shea Butter, I don't know whether I want the A/C on at night, but geyser water, I like. Is it just the weather, the hint of cold, why are my arms dry?

It's a dirty, sordid month, this October, that lacks any sort of upswing. You see oranges more often, but the sun is not clear, and you can't properly pelt people with seeds in full broad sunshine. There'll be carrot and orange juice on the table soon. Red froth in empty glasses. And I will need to bury my fingers in clothes-crevices.

It's too soon to bring on the scarves. Sitting indoors is the same, but when I step out, the darkness is too soon. Staying in, I need people and affection. This isn't October specific, but it's in my gut, these general feelings of quiet. In no other season is ginger more welcome, and the sound of shop shutters as abysmal. My need to get home is greater, the want to stay-in-touch, more. Familiarity is needed, and yellow light a refuge. Distance is ok in summer and sweat, but October the wretched is saddeningly intimate. I don't know what it is about this season, and it's crazy moth like bugs and that make me quicken pace, and wish winter were here already.