The other day, I was sitting outside my new favorite spot on campus, and I saw a man riding a bike down the street without the use of handlebars. It was about 11 at night, and there were no cars to be seen, and it was a curious sight to see him sitting on top of his bike, appearing lazy from the waist up, yet working steadily from the waist down to maintain his laid-back posture. I was fascinated by this contradiction of postures in a single person... until I saw that the reason he was doing so was so that he could smoke a cigarette while riding a bicycle. Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose? I mean, bikes are supposed to be good for you and for the earth... so polluting the air with cigarette smoke and strangling your lungs while doing so seems to be a bit odd.
It made me think he was less cool.
Finding out that people smoke makes me feel sad. Especially when that person is someone you care deeply for (not talking about the cyclist anymore... you know who you are. You'd better have been serious when you said you were stopping.)
Yesterday, I was in the practice building working on the Scriabin Prelude and Nocturne for left hand, and when I was done I went back to the front of Catlett Music Center to meet J, my ride back to the dorms (I had to run through the rain and the thunder to get there... and then I thought I was locked out. I got in, though). As I was standing in the Gothic Hall, watching the lightning through the stained glass, an organist was playing Durufle's Prelude and Fugue on the name ALAIN, and it served as a spectacular soundtrack to the storm outside (it wasn't a very flashy storm, the lightning seemed dimmer than any I'd seen before, and only very low rumbles could be heard from the thunder). The thunder lent itself to the piece very well... Spectacular.
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9 hours ago