Have you ever listened to Pearl Jam in the rain?

It’s quite an experience. I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier than I did earlier today while walking home, through what can only be described as a torrential downpour (at least with my vocabulary that seems to suffer from delusions of grandeur (but that’s another point entirely)) Incidentally, I’ve never actually used brackets within brackets before. Is that even legal? Part of me now fears the grammar police will send a squad to beat me to death with exclamation marks. Or perhaps even a question mark, sharpened into a scythe-like device. Scythe’s a nice word.

What the fuck was my original point?

Oh yes, rain. I guess this is how it makes me feel. Something I can describe as actual joy. A rare thing, I dare say. Just thinking about it now and I feel relaxed, I feel like rambling on, I feel like I don’t need to hide behind any of my jokes. But then again, I enjoy doing so, so I will anyway.

The sound of rain is infinitely calming to me, and the simple act of walking through a good quantity of the stuff is something I truly enjoy. The feel of it as it falls through space. The world around seems that much more alive. This is my own peculiar perspective, I know. I’m assuming that to a lot of people, rain is simply the bringer of flu and the bleakest of weather. I disagree. It’s a nuisance, sure, but I enjoy getting my hair wet. I enjoy wiping the beads of water off my beard. Alright, it’s not a real beard. I’m not manly enough to grow one, it seems. I have what I like to call ‘gruff’. Party because it doesn’t actually mean anything, and party because it sounds so damn cool; it makes me feel like a cowboy. Of course, a cowboy would have a real beard and laugh at me. But that’s beside the point. Cowboys don’t exist, and while neither does my beard, I do. And the point I’m making is that I like rain.

You can try and find the logic in that last bit, but I’m doubtful.

The sound of rain is what I love the most. I got home and (out of three parts pure relaxation and one part sheer exhaustion) I simply collapsed onto my bedroom floor, laying there for at least twenty minutes, listening to the rain. Just for a brief moment in time, I forgot about all those things that piss me off in the world, I forgot about those damn insecurities I have, (I actually worry very little about things anyway) but the few things I do worry about, I simply stopped doing so for that little slice of my life. Excuse the clichéd and if I do say so myself, rather poetic words I’m about to use; (but then, I am studying poetry) I felt like the merciless pounding of rain at my window was just for my benefit. I felt the like rain was selflessly throwing, propelling, sacrificing itself into my home, purely for my own personal lethargy. I like to call it one of life’s natural ‘good bits’.

The sound of rain. Try it, you might like it.

But hold on, I know I’m a cynical bastard; indifferent at the best of times, and downright grumpy at the worst. I’m not entirely emotionless, I’ve figured that out by watching Hotel Rwanda (I defy anyone not to cry watching that, by the way) I’m well aware there are numerous other pleasures in life I simply cannot bring myself to enjoy. The beach, being one. Fantasy films, tea, social gatherings and poetry (I’m working on that one) all make the list. Reality television’s another. Alright, that’s a shit example. But you get the idea. The truth is, I’ll take rain and be damn happy about it.

Y’know something else I enjoy? Dawn. The world is so much more colourful in the very early morning. It’s a sight I wholeheartedly enjoy, and yet I so rarely get to see it. This makes me sad. And when I’m sad, what I do is watch films. And when I watch films, what I don’t do is sleep at regular times. And when I don’t sleep at regular times, what happens is I miss dawn. That beautiful fucking dawn. I wonder, if I ever see it rain at dawn, you may have to strap me down, ‘cause I’m likely to have an incident.

I think the reason I write this is because I’m in a good mood. I genuinely am, and since I’m absolutely positive it can’t last, I’m busy scribbling away while it does. So that I might have a record of this peculiar mood when, inevitably, something comes along that reminds me of why I hate everything. I’m aware by the way, that a close friend of mine was also inspired to write something by the rain, and while his is definitely the more colourful one (I did indeed read it) I like to think mine was, well, earnest? And perhaps it made ya chuckle a little. I always like to think that out of the two of us, he’s smarter and I’m funnier.

I guess you can decide that.

Anyway, the next time it’s raining, put on some Pearl Jam and just relax. If you don’t happen to agree with their particular style of music, just listen to the rain on its own.

I promise you a lethargic experience, or your metaphorical money back.

~ Owl