The Polar Express


Ah… 10:54 pm, and 2 degrees farenheit o the way down to -12. Thank you God. It is winter at last.

I am sitting in the warm honey glow of the lamp, in the cozy environs of my living room, thanking my lucky stars that I am not one of those poor bastards out on the streets tonight, and praying that I may always stay on this side of homelessness. Winter in Minnesota is deadly. A fact that our convenience store culture tends to forget when we are fat, dumb, and happy watching reality TV in our carpeted cocoons.

Ever wonder why it’s only the fat and dumb that are happy? It’s never the skinny smart happy people. There’s a lesson there.

Digressing…

Jesus, what the hell was I talking about again? Oh yeah, weather. Very original.

It’s cold, I’m happy, somewhat fat, and increasingly dumb as the years progress. I thought wisdom was the reward for experience, but I’m finding that forgetfullness is the real boon. I can’t count the number of things I hold in my hand one second, only to realize they have gone missing, and spend the next 15 minutes searching my brain, and the house, until I locate it. Middle age sucks.

But this isn’t a post about middle age. It’s about winter. I love these arctic evenings when it seems as if the earth has broken free of its orbit and is hurting off into the cold dark abyss of space. Outside the stars are frozen in the crystaline sky, and life steams from every orifice in the city. Winter is a great reminder that Life = Heat. The temperature drops, and the beams in the attic contract, and crack like snapping timber. we draw our world in tight around us to keep warm. Put the dogs on the bed for extra heat. Leave the socks and undershirt on. Turn on the mattress warmer, the greatest invention known to mankind, a full hour before turning in.

Winter has come at last. We can burn ourselves down until their is nothing but the cold dark ash from which Spring will be reborn.

Please God, don’t ever stop the ride. I have no intention of getting off.

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