What is spring? Is it not the season between winter and summer? Does it not arrive when earth’s orbit reaches such a degree so that the North Pole points towards the sun and the sun too is at the midpoint in the sky? More importantly, is it not the loveliest of seasons, Panda’s favorite to be exact, when the dizzying sensations caused by fragrant flower-bloomings overwhelm Panda so that Panda can barely distinguish between cherry blossom tinted daydreams and drowsy cotton-candy night dreams?
Was not the first day of Spring 2011, March 20th – more than one whole month ago?
For where are the flower-bloomings occurring?
Not outside Panda’s dark window—that’s for sure—no, not outside this irritatingly dusty Brooklyn window, beyond which a cold, gritty evening mocks the little white bear’s black spots.
Panda paces in last year’s slippers. Panda contemplates buying new slippers, but why turn over a new leaf when new leaves do not promise to grow?
Sigh. And what of other emotions? Thinks, Panda.
Panda has not been keeping up with this diary for nearly a year and a half, during which time Panda has been meditating and learning to levitate. Nothing of obvious importance has come of this precious practice – meaning, no answers, and quite the opposite, only an endless list of questions Panda cannot reconcile about Panda’s life.
For instance, is Panda in love with Vincent D’Onofrio?
How many times is it natural for a Panda to watch the brilliant, and completely overlooked film, Staten Island: Little New York, in which Vincent D’Onofrio wears a fancy suit and the kind of sunglasses Panda would die to see Panda’s own reflection in—because surely that would only happen if the movie star himself were staring straight at the knock-kneed panda bear.
But what would I say? Panda ponders, and then shakes. Ugh! This is not a pleasant spring dream at all!
A garbage truck noisily proceeds down Panda’s street. Panda moves away from the window, thoroughly annoyed because the bee sting on Panda’s swollen nose is now again flaring up.
Brooklyn, you fail me! Perhaps, spring is everywhere but here. Could such a phenomena be true? Panda thought, scratching a patch of matted fur behind Panda’s ear.
But of course, this is yet another question that will have no answer. Not for Panda. Not on this confusing night.
