you're never too big to talk about the weather

the april dispatch

Hello! I’m back with another monthly dispatch. If you missed March’s, you can read it here.

I do think it's a little funny that I'm writing this particular missive as a way to avoid (1) my essay on falling in love with the process (coming soon) and (2) edits on my manuscript. Like, Clara, lol, you little phony, you.¹

There is a reason for this, though, and it is my memory, which will surely falter if I don't get the words out sooner rather than later. This is partly why I journal, by the way: things have a way of escaping me if I don't memorialize them as they happen.

Over the course of March in Barcelona, it rained more days than it did not. I thought this was rare—something my presence had wrought, perhaps, as I am famously a fan of the rain and also believe I have more power than I actually do. But the last week of March, I went to an event (because I'm trying to remind myself that community is what makes me human and what makes me human is what makes me happy) and of course we were all talking about the rain, which was making itself known that day, too.

I may have mentioned this before, but I actually really enjoy talking about the weather. Like, it's one of the few things we all experience together, why shouldn't we discuss it? Why is it considered small to talk about the color of the sky and the way the sun hides behind the clouds and the thunder that rolls into the city in the afternoon and the very specific breeze you're only able to feel if you happen to be outside, ideally near a few trees, at twilight?

There's really nothing more important. I love to talk about the weather. Like language, it is something that affects us all.