Are We Not Sheep?

Listening to my Mozart CD this morning on the am drive to my son's school. It is some sort of choral piece, lots of tripping up the stairs vocalizations that are reminiscent of Handel: "And the government shall be upon his sho-ho-ho-ho-ho-houl-der."

It is overcast and the streets are still wet with last night's rain. The air smells of damp earth and vegetation and makes me want to go to Hawaii. It is beginning to feel like what passes for winter in Northern California. We are beginning the long, slow, inevitable slide into the red, green, and gold Holiday Season. First a stop at the orange and black of Hallowe'en, then keeping the orange going into autumnal earth tones and strange oddity of American Thanksgiving, and then the descent into madness with blood sacrifice celebrations of trees and light and all manner of sensory abandonment.

A dim craving for the sharp ache of cold prickles at the base of my skull.