Tonight I ended up at Spiderhouse sometime after midnight on one of the most pleasant evenings imaginable. I sat on the deck, next to the vintage arrow-shaped sign with the blinking Christmas lights. At some point I became completely lost in the book I was reading, Charles Johnson's Middle Passage. That wall between reading the words and converting them directly to a visualization of the action broke down. It felt great to read without looking at the page numbers, to look down and find that twenty pages had disappeared, to become unaware of turning the pages.

Then, toward closing time, the CD that was playing ended, and for once no one in my vicinity was talking, and I could suddenly hear the internal workings of the sign next to me. I stared at the lights as they blinked and listened to the flickering, metallic twitches that didn't seem to fall in with the rhythm of the lights. The pinpricks of sound careened off the iron walls of the sign, crashing into each other. I thought that more than anything, it sounded like light--like maybe how the deaf imagine fireworks sound.

When I left, all the streetlights were off for some reason, and I had the pleasure of walking home under the cover of tall, linear silhouettes against the charcoal-gray sky. Back into the park, into the neighborhoods, surrounding the few lights left on, running along the telephone lines, the blackness extended, a perfect compliment to the damp coolness of the air. My ankle felt strong as I walked, and I thought of playing basketball earlier today, the first time in weeks. The physical release I felt from finally being able to move with quickness again removed the thoughts of the stressful things I'd been concentrating on for the past week or so. I was grateful that the exercise (and the satisfaction of feeling in control of my jump shot) had done its job, and I promised myself to always make time for such a simple pleasure. I let it all soak in during that walk home, the uniqueness of it all, feeling more optimistic about the immediate future than at any time since the first week of the semester.