Cool blue swimming pool
2001 07 22
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Staring at the too bright white of a text editor's window; it's glaring and harsh, but there's naught I can do about it.
I had a momentary sense of freshness tonight; a sight of the cool blue sky looking like indigo velvet. Almost unreal it was; hanging there in the air above me. Like the colours of crayons and wet paint, something sharp, but thick.
Not a night for stars, though; just a night for the cool blue and clouds.
I wish it were autumn already, with its bright coloured leaves and crisp evenings; the sorts of evenings that make you long for cocoa, a warm fire that smells of woodsmoke, and a window on the world so you can count the stars that were hidden by a hazy summer.
I think it's even the sort of night that might actually make me taste mulled wine. I've never had it, you see. I've never even been much of a fan of wine at all. Much to the disappointment of my mother, who lives in close proximity to some of the best vineyards of southern France. She and her husband keep a wine cellar. At last count, I think she mentioned something along the lines of about 600 bottles.
I'd like a swimming pool, I think; despite the fact that I can't swim. An inground one, designed by myself, inside a room with glassed walls and skylights. Or, perhaps, no room, perhaps open to the air and surrounded by muted lighting; the sort of lighting you get from coloured paper lanterns.
I could, then, not swim in peace and seclusion. I could lay out on a pool chair and stare at the sky, and count the stars, and try to choose which type of cheese the moon is made of. (It sometimes looks like brie, at other times more a mild cheddar.)
(Looking at this commercial on the telly, for some disco compillation, makes me think that the '70s, if not for KISS and punk rock, might just have been an embarassment.)
Sometimes, late in the evening, the telephone rings when I am not expecting it to. It's always pleasant; the voice on the other end of the line is pleasing. It's a voice that deserves to be embraced, held, and hugged.
It's a voice of soft candlelight, cool breezes, and peace.
I once had a vision of a cavern hidden deep with a mountain. It was a cavern with a high roof and a basin filled with clear, clean water.
I took many coloured glass balls with lights inside them, and tossed them into the water basin, where some sank to the bottom, some floated at various depths, and others remained on the surface.
They filled the cavern with dancing, multicoloured lights that bounced and glowed off the rock formations, while I swam through the waters.
Perhaps that's how I'll make my swimming pool.