strange radiation: the pool of radiance archive

Adventures with an unreliable narrator.

Mar 16 04: mad cow

It is starting to stick.

The snow is coming down in great waves and it’s often hard to see the other side of the street with any clarity. Yesterday was sunny and gorgeous and I walked the streets of the city in my shirtsleeves, but today we have been yanked backwards into winter with such force that many of us have lost our hats and eyeglasses and minds. The heat of yesterday and the days before has been drawn out of the sidewalks and into the slushy gutters, and the walkways are starting to vanish under a horrible wet grey paste.

Yesterday was beautiful. It was one of those first-days-of-spring days where you can hardly restrain yourself from dancing down the street instead of walking, because some fundamental part of you has left your body and soared five blocks ahead of you, is shaking hands with the hot-dog vendor, is handing out daisies to overlayered tourists, is singing Rufus Wainwright songs at the top of its lungs. Paul and I got up at 6:30, went to the gym, got to work on time, went to rehearsal eventually, and I beamed like a fool straight on until bedtime. The Rossinni fugues made me want to do little interpretive dance moves in the back row that the tenor next to me described as ‘the Stevie Nicks ballet.’ I couldn’t help myself. I was practically vibrating with existential joy. If I could have bottled it, I would have given it out for free to the entire world and watched its ills be resolved in time for lunch.

But yesterday is over now. The joy carried me through morning swim practice, but by the time I reached the train the first snow was falling. It will continue off and on, I am told, through Friday. And not long after that the wolf Fenris will swallow the sun, and we will all die as the world slowly succumbs to the ice.

Well, okay, or maybe not. But still: March is supposed to go from lion to lamb. It started as lamb, instead, and has careened through lion and panther and ginger kitten and loris and cicada and agouti and unseen bird that smacks into the window and hides in the bushes somewhere. Bring on the spring already. I am vanishing beneath the slush.

Commentary

Dear Vanishing Paste,

As an infamous, pupil-less redhead once said, the sun will come out tomorrow or so. A look out of my office window shows snow falling up. Is this a sign of the coming apocalypse? While you may be suffering from the unbearable lightness of being sick of winter, I am buried under the heavy strain of a healthy appetite and an unhealthy tendency to overindulge.

Time for lunch!
- Conscious in Corporate Amerika

posted by Cerberus, Mar 17 04 12:35 PM

I believe that the red-head had pupils by the time she uttered “when I’m stuck with day, that’s gray and lo-ohn-ley, I just stick out my chin and grin and say……ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

This is Winter’s goodbye party. Enjoy it.

posted by Demeter, Mar 17 04 4:38 PM

[0 trackbacks]