Shadows stretch and lengthen across the yards and parking lots around town as evening sets in. This triggers some part of me to come alive. I have this theory that I'm 1/64th vampire or something. I love the night. (Plus garlic makes my breath foul. Coincidence? I don't think so.) I love the shadows. What is the night, after all, but the queen of all shadows. At night we stand where the shadow of the Earth begins. From there it casts out across the vastness of space. Shadows never end, as long as there is the potential for light.
When you tell people you love the night, many of them get the wrong impression. I am not, for example, a party boy. I don't say, "Woo." I don't frequent the places circled as "Hot Spots" on Mapsco books of the Girls Gone Wild production team. I've never walked into a flashing, thumping dance club, and I never will. I am also not a Goth person. I wear jeans or shorts and flip flops or sandals and T-shirts or those Latin wedding shirts or camp shirts. I do not wear long black trench coats in the middle of the summer. I do not wear eye makeup. I do not sign my name "Sköt Wight." If I am, in fact, 1/64th vampire, I'm the white sheep of the family. My love for the shadows is milder and more organic.
I like the cool and quiet of the night. I love the lack of ambition. No one expects anything from you at night. Few people are trying to accomplish anything more ambitious than nookie. The night, as long as you can stay awake, is free time. I love this freedom, this easiness.
Some of you wear yellow and orange and white and you're sunny beach people. Some of you love a clear warm or hot day. Some of you love summer afternoons. That's good. The world needs people like you. The greeting card industry REALLY needs you. We all need you. And we love you. You're great. You really are.
We do, however, breathe a sigh of relief when you finally go to bed (at 8:30) and we can relax.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
