October;

I totally can't believe it's October already! In my very biased opinion, I think it's the best month of the year. It is kind of the epitome of autumn--September's still got that faint murmur of summer, and November is melodramatic and gloomy and filled with dim smudges of light on gleaming pavements.

But October? To me it's like a lullaby, like gentle fingers trickling down my face to soothe insomnia when I was five years old, like diaphanous curtains billowing softly in a breeze as though the wind is whispering to you--like that place between awake and asleep. When October rolls around, I feel like I'm home again. I feel like I'm being hugged by the cosmos, and it's saying, This is your time. This is your month.

I always wonder if I'd have stuck to the schedule and been born on September 27th, whether I'd be as devoted to that month as this one. Being late is in my genes and I'm dubious about astrology, so I guess I'll never know the answer to that question. But regardless, I'm glad to belong to October. I've always felt an affinity for autumn, I've always loved watching the leaves slowly turn to gold and crimson and a thousand other shades, and twirling around in the spiralling sycamore seeds, and splashing in puddles, and listening to the wind and rain outside, and Halloween, and pumpkin soup. Cinnamon, hot chocolate, candy apples, Canadian geese, tealights burning in green lanterns. Autumn is one of those fleeting, elusive seasons, where you might blink and miss it. All around things are dying, yet it's somehow excruciatingly beautiful. You only have to watch The Lord of the Rings or Hocus Pocus to know what I'm talking about.

Autumn leaves in a cobweb @ Kylie & Brian's house,
Phegans Bay, Australia, October 2009.

I should probably mention that I've caught the cold thanks to some cow in English who coughed with such precision at the exact moment I heaved a sigh and breathed in that I'm beginning to wonder if she didn't do it on purpose to spite my immune system. I am never sick. I can't even remember the last time I had a cold. And while I absolutely detest the besmirching of this record, it's been such a long time since I was sick, I'm actually kind of enjoying it in a horrible way. Like, I woke up this morning and put my face right in a hankie and thought Cool, my snot's green. And I keep imagining I am Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail when Tom Hanks comes over with a bouquet of daisies, because they are her favourite flower and he's just put her out of business, and she's totally dying of the cold, and she says in her sweet little voice "My head's starting to get fuzzy." The fuzziness in my head is fun, like I'm constantly drifting between the layers of sleep and awake. And being hot and cold all the time. And staying in my pyjamas and giant red dressing gown all day. And feeling like an innocent little kid all over again. And how fantastic tea and showers suddenly are, even better than usual. And the trippy, fevered dreams. And how the only thing I want to eat are Sesame Snaps. And the achy feeling in my limbs, like I'm made out of shadows and colourful tissue paper. And feeling generally loopy.

Also-also, yesterday I'm pretty sure I met Tibby Tomko-Rollins which kind of made my life complete, and Meejin & I believe if you look hard enough you will find Ollivander's and be able to purchase a wand in Ashton Lane which coincides nicely with the Platform 9 & 3/4s entrance to English, and I didn't have any cocktails because firstly nothing that is pink should be drinkable and secondly because all I wanted to do was put my head in a bowl of soup, and there are only so many stories you can hear about black being the trump colour in inebriated vomit before wanting to drill a hole in your own skull and empty the contents through a straw just for something else to do. Still, it was nice. My favourite part was when Meejin & I went into Waitrose because I needed liquid in my system immediately, and it was just beginning to get dark and the streetlights were coming on and it was warm and pouring and almost October and we got the 118 home like we used to in the snow blizzards and it was purple and had seatbelts like when you go on school trips and we talked about everything and nothing. 

At home I had to bring the bins back round. The brown one is my arch nemesis because it provides a paradise for the tiny flies that make me look like I have Tourettes through summer, and of late it has been found guilty of a new transgression; a spider web. I've watched it grow larger and larger the past few weeks, and last night I finally met the elusive spinner. He was a big guy. Naturally, I ran back into the house for my camera and proceeded to stand in the pouring rain for several minutes trying to get a decent picture. Just as I put my hand around the handle to begin the long, arduous journey back around the house, I heard the distant squawking of Canadian geese flying home, and I grinned because those geese are like the antithesis of spiders to me, and with equal parts moxy and girlish screaming, I made it back to the house unscathed (though the spider melted into the darkness at one point and I have no idea where it is now).  

Yep, ever since my dad recorded Fly Away Home for me as a small child, I've been infused with a sense of giddiness and tranquility whenever I see or hear Canadian geese. As a result, I'm also in love with Jeff Daniels, who happens to star in Arachnophobia, ironically.

Alright, I think my loopiness has come full circle (I just hahaha'd at my own accidental pun, I seriously need to go lie down). I'm off to get this synopsis done and then watch Thelma & Louise. Happy October!


P.S., Is it just me or is Stargazing by Wang Chung a great song for autumn?