Swing sets remind me of that night during freshman year of college when Larissa and I went out to the playground at 2 a.m.  We probably had final papers of some kind hanging over our heads, yet we didn't care.  We wallowed in blissfulness and delighted in freedom from restraints and demands of society.  A long time has passed since I last felt so carefree.

This past week, J and I took a walk after dinner and found ourselves gravitating toward the swings at a nearby park.  We each sat on one swing adjacent to one another, yet after only a couple of minutes, I realized that I was bored.  For no apparent reason other than to defy the rules of how swings are supposed to be used, I slithered out of my seat and found myself lying on the ground with my arms behind my head and legs propped up on the swing seat.  J eventually joined me, and we were two adults lying on the pavement in a playground, like little kids who saw the world upside down for the first time.  Nearby, two Korean mothers conversed in familiar cadences as they watched their kids use the swing set -- the right way.  The little girls looked quizzically at us, which made me self-conscious, but only for a brief moment. 

High above, tree branches swayed in eager expectation of the coming storm.  Clouds gathered and moved rapidly across the sky, like swarms of ants descending upon a half-cut honeydew.  The pleasant spring breeze quickly turned into violent gales that whipped our hairs into our faces, while the setting sun cast a luminescent glow in the horizon. 

However, despite all the movement and changes happening around us, time stood still as we talked.  The ominous-looking clouds and powerful winds signaled that we should leave soon, yet the world looked so much more interesting when up was down and down was up.  For a moment, we defied the rules of the playground.  For a moment, we listened to the wind and the coming rain.  We didn't hide or run away.

I've created a new blogspot -- feel free to check it out: http://leatherwineskins.blogspot.com/

I'll probably update there from now on!  :) 

I love my new place in Harvard Square.  I live in a nice, quiet neighborhood; I have great housemates, and the river is only a couple of blocks away.  This is definitely an upgrade from my previous apartment, where the walls didn't know how to stand straight, and the hallways always smelled like morning breath. 

However, I miss living in Central Square.  I dropped by today to shop for groceries and watched an amusing scene unfold at the bus stop:

A middle-aged woman, heavy-set, blonde-braided hair lies down on a slab of raised concrete, two feet from the curb.  She is prostrated with her face down and arms sprawled as if she has just finished a boxing match and is too tired to lift even an eyebrow. 

Next to her, two people sit on the bench.  One is an elderly woman with a blank expression on her face.  She is eating a piece of bread and staring off into space.  The other is a middle-aged man.  He is yelling.

"Get up, Debbie, get up!" 

Debbie doesn't respond.

"Debbie.  Debbie.  Debbie!"  He moves closer to her and leans into her ear, "GET UP!  You want to be taken away just like your husband did?"

The defeated woman continues to lie on the concrete.  She is either extremely drunk, high, depressed, or all of the above.

The man eventually gets her to sit up from her stupor and he tells her that he needs to go home, or whatever it is they call it.  She begs him to stay. 

"You want me to stay?" The man exclaimed, "Psh... I got three wives and five kids; two of them died!  You want me to stay?"

I couldn't follow the course of their conversation, but somehow, within the next two minutes, they were singing love songs together -- love songs, that is, about broken hearts.