I haven’t played in the rain in a long time. I think that’s another symptom of my… hibernation. I feel I’m in a state of holding, with a chrysalis around me, solid and unmoving. When I was a teenager, I’d run to the river during storms.. the more violent, the better. It was always worse on the water, and sometimes I’d dare the floating docks out off the end of the pier. And I remember at least one time swimming naked in the storm, my clothes dropped in a heap on the rocky bit of beach we called ours. A friend swam with me, and we made love in the river while rain poured down on us and thunder and lightning crashed. It was an impulsive thing… he was a friend, and it shouldn’t have gotten mixed up. But there was so much energy around us and inside us…I’m wandering.
As I grew older, I’d go to the state forest and to the river there for storms, if I had time. If not, I’d go to the graveyard. Anywhere I could be out in it alone, without people bothering me. I loved the feel of the rain stinging my skin, making me blind, and screaming with the thunder, laughing at the lightning, and being drowned out by it. It made me feel miniscule… I was nothing, if not part of the storm, and it could wash me away if it wished. Being out in a violent storm was like being reborn, being renewed, and afterwards it left me full of the energy of the storm. I would be drunk off it, and I felt I had to move carefully so that it did not spill out and dissolve me.
It’s been years since I’ve been out in it. Nothing is stopping me, but there is nowhere private for me to go, or at least nowhere that I know. If I could drag Brian out in it with me, that would be great… I’d adore that. But it’s not his thing.