Dampness.

Yesterday was just damp. It was raining when I woke up and continued to rain throughout the entire day. Though it never rained hard, there was just a constant drizzle. The earth, sky, and everything in between were completely saturated and all seemed to deviate slightly from a dark shade of gray. Somehow the darkness and moisture seeped into my thoughts. I felt preoccupied, uncomfortable. The dampness removes heat from your body but makes the air feel thick and heavy. It is hard to feel comfortable or warm.

At sunset, the drizzle turned more into an occasional sprinkle accompanied by an unbelievably strong wind. Rather than clearing out the storm, there seemed to be an endless supply of dark clouds filling the sky, enshrouded in a ubiquitous dark mist. The night felt a bit foreboding. The distance between me and others was somehow magnified.

To combat these feelings, after dinner I decided to walk down the street to a decent Irish Pub in my neighborhood where I knew a fair number of people would be. I found an empty stool, sipped my beer and listened to the conversations around me in either German or English. This is the kind of pub you come to with a friend, not with a group. The place is small and warm and the people seemed content and relaxed. The bar television was set to a British comedy channel that was playing and advertising only American sitcoms. I smiled at advertisements for various episodes I recognized.

Sadly television has been a companion for me at the loneliest times and longest hours of my life. I still remember the schedules from middle school, high school, and the late nights of graduate school. Usually I came to rely on whatever was being played most at the time, probably due to its prevalence. It was reliable, consistent and familiar. As a result, I probably know more Wings, Friends and Frasier trivia than I am proud to admit. Though it gave me comfort to know I have come to depend on more than my TV set, it made me realize that at least last night, it was still the only thing there to interact with me.

I had a second beer and enjoyed the hum and warmth of those around me for a short time longer. Then, I started my walk home. As I left, I was still putting my jacket on. It was pleasant to feel the residual warmth from the pub push off the cold long enough for me to get bundled up. I came home feeling hungry and longing for the 24 hour Deli underneath my apartment in New York City. Then I came in and felt longing for the many friends with whom I have shared meals, stories and experiences over the past several years. It is always more pleasant to drift off to sleep smiling at the remembrance of an original joke told by a friend than a canned joke told off a sitcom.