Fall Is For Kissing
by Kid Spill

Although it is a move that I should arguably charge at least several thousand dollars for, I will in this brief editorial exposit one of the true and intractable meanings of life and how to live.  In order to maintain purpose, a happy disposition and healthy physical shell, one may ignore the nutritional teachings of Nietzsche, the athletic recommendations of the Spartans, and the do-gooding modeled by Jimmy Carter. The real path to fulfillment of all kinds is to acknowledge the rhythms and cycles of the world.  If you’re now thinking “New Age crystals and natural fabrics bullshit,” be warned that this recommendation indicates no such thing.  In order to live as interestingly and actively as possible (actually, what way of living is in the realm of possibility remains a sketchy question in and of itself, but for these purposes, let’s just go with it), an individual must ingratiate themselves in the cycle of time and how it corresponds with their own corporeal, cerebral and emotional concerns.  Doing this whole-heartedly will, without question, enrich your human experience.  And what more can you ever ask of me, really?

Winter

In winter, it is unnatural to be or attempt to be the same sort of person that you “are” in, say, July.  In winter, a person should turn inward, become quieter, and sheath themselves in layers of classic novels and soft blankets.  Winter is time for long hair, beards, cashmere and leather.  Lots of curling up and lying down should be done in this season.  If you don’t gain at least five lbs. during winter, you have failed.  Winter is when the divide between the coupled and non becomes most apparent and important - those in relationships must retreat into their comforting folds and fuck their way through the dark months.  Those that are alone must take this opportunity to contemplate life like you’re in high school, lie under your parents’ Christmas tree and breathe in the potent pine needle smell, and drink dark lager with a shot of Jack. 

Spring

Spring is essentially clean and optimistic.  You have to pay your taxes in spring, and the mess of papers that your pay stubs emerge from inevitably also includes reminders of unpicked-up dry cleaning, unsent-in warranties and the like.  This period is one of organization, renewal, and energy.  Spring is the prissiest season, because of the still-biting cold and slushy streets coupled with new white clothes and flowery perfumes. Everyone becomes Charlotte York in spring, peering up above the brim of a new hat at the budding trees.  This is a chaste season. The newness of spring would be marred by any bodily fluids.

Summer

Summertime is frivolous and flung as wide open as your slutty cousin. In summer, no matter what your very essence or overarching personality is, the weather and peak of growth and fertility demand unabashed aggressiveness (a good time for bar-bathroom intercourse), outdoor drinking on stoops, eating sugar and preservative-laden popsicles in tacky high heeled sandals, frayed denim shorts, velour halter tops, and excessive gold jewelry.  In summer you and your friends should yell like the Warriors through subway stations and bare your fangs at children.   

Fall

Fall is for kissing. This is an awesome and inalienable fact. In fall, the shouts and murmurs of the summer have died out but the igloo of winter is still under construction. People try to mimic fall in their transitional clothing, what with brown corduroy and burgundy scarves, but it is instead advisable to add ersatz bolts of colour to the monochrome terrain and wear turquoise and loud pink and glossy black but in excellent fabrics so that when you’re tunneling into your sleeves because of the wind your skin will be soothed.  If you are lucky enough to fall in love in the fall, you are not allowed to complain until 2008 (just like those silly Americans who won’t be voting on November 2^nd).

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