It looks like warm winter in my kitchen this morning, and I can see rain streaking down the apartments next door.
We walked past what looked like co-ed ROTC students playing football. Every so often one side or the other would erupt in howls when a good pass was made or a goal was scored, and I wanted to scream along with them. I wanted to let out a deep monstrous sound of my own and camouflage it among their various shouts.
Instead I've been enjoying a Grizzly Bear sing along at home this week - Veckatimest at the computer and Yellow House in the kitchen. I haven't sung quite as loud or as passionately as I want to, but there is something so satisfying about letting my voice glide along their vowels, clearing space for what feels like an endless magician's handkerchief of colorful notes drawn from the depths of my chest, past my vocal chords and out from my lips.
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