2005-01-22 - 5:55 p.m. It's a bbbbllllllizzard! You're supposed to imagine me saying that in the voice of a big, blustery snowman puppetoon. Hot dog, I love snow. And my favorite weather site also reports "freezing fog." I swear, they make this stuff up for our amusement. Last week they prognosticated "ice pellets." They are so intense. And luckily I have season 2 of The Office (sometimes I worry that I'm obsessive, and then I see websites like that and I relax) and 4 episodes of 24 to tide me over, as well as a new song to finish (have the music and the lyrical conceit, now just have to flesh it out), and a bunch of books to read, and home improvement projects. No, just kidding about the home improvement projects. Were you scared? A wee youngster at work leant me the Madvillain CD that's getting all the raves, and I've come up against my usual rap situation: do I like this cuz it's good and interesting--I mean, there's ukelele on one track!--or merely because I listen to so little of this kind of music that it messes with my neurons in a novel and exciting way? In order to scientificaly test this, I'd need to listen to more rap, and the fact is I can't because the majority of my listening is done at work, and I can't work when there's people talkin', especially in a menacing fashion. "...Unless they are tired, children have clear faces that can be peeled away to reveal skin sugar, or nougat. When I was about 12, even though I was the shyest, straightest suburban kid ever (or perhaps because), I became obsessed with heroin and junkies. I think it started with buying this book from my local library for 25 cents, and then this one, gateway books to the all-time great heroin memoir. (This is leadiing up to something but it's kind of stupid, so you can stop reading right about here) Anyway, one of the things I learned from my literary smack excursions is that there are people who will go through rehab/detox so they can get clean for the sole purpose of being able to recover their sensitivity to heroin again. This is why I enjoy, in retrospect, weeks like last week where my yoga practice totally tanked and I didn't exercise at all except to waddle over to the vending machine at work for more snacks. Because then I took a really good Saturday morning yoga class, and my endorphin levels just shot through the roof. Ah! From pure black-cloudsville to heaven in 90 minutes. Yes, what is light w/o that all-important contrasting darkness?
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