I was at the gates of the decrepit castle some time ago, lolling around a streetlamp like a wannabe male dancer. How nice it would  be, I thought to myself, to be a streetlamp! To provide light for people who, by your blessing, safely find their way.

Another perk, less common: I get to be a voyeur from time to time. How many young couples have their rendezvous, have taken the first bold step down their path of love within the bright bounds of my little territory?

But a streetlamp doesn’t go anywhere, any more than a blade of grass or a gargoyle on Hearst Mining Building. I revise my view: maybe I’d like to be dandelion spawn? Dandelion feathers? Heck if I know the right term, I never took biology or botany seriously. Fly where the wind takes me, seeing and feeling new things every hour, every day…

Alvin asked if I was still stuck in the piano room. As usual I (my paranoid side) read too much into it and got a passive-aggressive interpretation of “are you still being your antisocial nerdy self?” out of there. My rational side immediately got the fire extinguisher out: “Yes, I’m still holing myself up in solitude. But I’ve met my share of great people via the piano room; good and great things have happened in there. So, why not?”



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