Friday, January 16, 2004
Worst job I could possibly think of today: being a State Trooper obliged to stand outside the State House in these sub-zero temperatures. Even the guys who stand inside by the security checkpoints don't have it much better. It's almost worse actually -- the heat but a tease as arctic air blasts inside each time the doors open.
My walk from the subway station to the office has taken on new dimensions. Swathed in layers of polar fleece and wool, head and shoulders hunkered down, I tear up the windy street -- nothing exposed but my eyes which hurt from the icy air. Fellow pedestrians pass by similarly clad -- it's quite strange to see nothing but another person's eyes peering out from twists of scarf. Fashion becomes so not important. One is impressed only by a person's ability to dress sufficiently warmly and not waddle or topple over under all of the layers.
Home life has also taken on somewhat of a new dimension. Working on my computer in my little office is quite impossible. The outside wall and the window framed within it are right next to my desk and it's like sitting next to an iceberg. Socks and slippers are mandatory; the cold air seeping up from the basement through the wood floors has chilled the floors to refrigerator-cold degrees.
I do still take the dog out. For very quick walks. Cursing under my breath helps to keep me warm: S***, f***, god-damn it's f***** cold... If you had told me fifteen years ago I would move from California to brave a wind-chill factor of -35 degrees Fahrenheit I would have, well, told you that you were out of your mind.
Instead of pictures of Mars, how about investing that money in developing alternative energy sources. 'Cause when in 40 years the oil is all gone and we are freezing and cursing that we could have ever followed Bush and his dead-end energy strategy, it ain't going to be pretty. Think Islamist terrorists are whackos? Try cold and armed American white-trash sleezos and hood scrubs terrorizing neighborhoods for spare wood.
My walk from the subway station to the office has taken on new dimensions. Swathed in layers of polar fleece and wool, head and shoulders hunkered down, I tear up the windy street -- nothing exposed but my eyes which hurt from the icy air. Fellow pedestrians pass by similarly clad -- it's quite strange to see nothing but another person's eyes peering out from twists of scarf. Fashion becomes so not important. One is impressed only by a person's ability to dress sufficiently warmly and not waddle or topple over under all of the layers.
Home life has also taken on somewhat of a new dimension. Working on my computer in my little office is quite impossible. The outside wall and the window framed within it are right next to my desk and it's like sitting next to an iceberg. Socks and slippers are mandatory; the cold air seeping up from the basement through the wood floors has chilled the floors to refrigerator-cold degrees.
I do still take the dog out. For very quick walks. Cursing under my breath helps to keep me warm: S***, f***, god-damn it's f***** cold... If you had told me fifteen years ago I would move from California to brave a wind-chill factor of -35 degrees Fahrenheit I would have, well, told you that you were out of your mind.
Instead of pictures of Mars, how about investing that money in developing alternative energy sources. 'Cause when in 40 years the oil is all gone and we are freezing and cursing that we could have ever followed Bush and his dead-end energy strategy, it ain't going to be pretty. Think Islamist terrorists are whackos? Try cold and armed American white-trash sleezos and hood scrubs terrorizing neighborhoods for spare wood.
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