An Ode To The Overcast Sky

I have grown to absolutely loathe the sunlight. I don’t know what it is exactly, but to my eyes, the aesthetics created by the sunlight in the area that I live are deplorable. Perhaps it is that all the hideousness and flaws of an industrialized nation are exposed to a greater extent under the light of the sun while an overcast sky downplays these foul aberrations, in the same way that the dim lighting scheme of my room conveniently serves to obscure the numerous stains on the carpet (courtesy of its former tenant). However, this is not a sufficient explanation. I prefer dim lighting purely as an aesthetic preference, regardless of stains or gaudy corporate eyesores, and a cloudy, overcast sky seems to be nature’s equivalent of this particular scheme. When I wake up and am greeted with such a pale, grey atmosphere outside my window, I immediately feel more content and at ease. In fact, I feel relieved. Relieved that I don’t have to spend the daytime hours under the oppressive glow of that loathsome, reprehensible sun.

Many people apparently love the summer, considering it their favorite season and eagerly awaiting its arrival all year long. In my mind, the popularity of summer is in fact evidence of its essential mediocrity. Summer is indeed the most democratic of all seasons, and therefore the most unrefined. You’ll notice that as soon as the weather begins to warm towards the end of spring, the proles who had been hiding away all winter begin flooding the streets like roaches. The sun-drenched summertime allows access to everyone as warm, moderate weather requires no resilience of any kind. Winter of course is the exact opposite and its harsh cold serves admirably as a sort of quality filter for the types of people that venture out into public during these months. One will predictably observe that those who are predisposed to withstand or even enjoy the winter climate are often of a higher stock than the detritus drawn out by the tacky sunshine of summertime.

There are of course those who will protest that grey skies are “gloomy,” and I would argue that this is either incorrect or that perhaps these naysayers are wrong in thinking of “gloom” as an inherently negative characteristic. For me, a grey sky creates a novel atmosphere and establishes a palpable air of mystery not unlike that felt under particularly luminescent moonlight. This type of setting inspires reflection and awakens the creative impulse. For those of a certain temperament, a dark and even vaguely ominous atmosphere is greatly preferable to the boring populism of sunshine and blue skies. To those poets and dreamers, it is the latter that is insufferably dreary.