Some prose on a chilly day

In what is a continuing trend of writing inspired by weather and the atmosphere here is something for today where it is record cold across much of the Midwest.
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Its the kind of cold that makes you think and regret. I want to get back under the covers and dwell. Stew in warmth of coming up with better response when someone was unkind to me. Of giving the guy with the guitar a dollar. Or adopting that shelter cat I saw at the pet store. At flirting back. Or not flirting in the first place. At the food left uneaten and nice email you never replied to. All the movies I've never seen and books collecting dust on a "to be read" pile. Projects left unfinished. And the chill of those bad takes doesn't compare to how cold it is outside.

Its the kind of cold that shortens cigarette breaks. Which I don't take but I am jealous others get to take in addition to what we are allowed "Hey, boss. I'm going out for a smoke."
"Oh, ok. Got it"
"Oh...boss. Can I just get some air for 10 minutes. Check my email"
"No, that is what your break is for."
But not so jealous in this cold. And eager to see some return because I need their help. Or I like looking at them from across the office. Or it is slamming even though it is cold! "Oh, hey, you are back soon. Nice"

Its a snicker snack cold that cracks heavy branches down the grain. A sharp snap and then pillowy thud into the new snow. Then then soft hiss of snowflakes nestling back onto the ground. Everything is louder and colder on a day like this. Curled into my bed I also remember hearing the muttering og my grade school custodian. Who hated blistering cold days because "the pipes." School legend had it that years ago a pipe burst shut down the school for three weeks. So you had kids gouging at plaster and brick, the same spots year from year sloughed down to divots. We were trying to get closer to the cold and snap the pipes.

I don't have proper cold weather gear. I enjoy hiking but not so much to dedicate kit to it. Albeit that is the funnest part. So, its the kind of cold that makes me dig into my closet. Find giant jeans from before I lost the weight. Put those over pajama pants, under which are a pair of basketball shorts, under which is my underwear. Then a t-shirt, baseball tee, zip up hooded sweatshirt, pull over fleece and then windbreaker (with inner fleece lining). Me and all the air pockets of insulation against the historic cold.

The cold to me is also visual both in the glittery haze over snow but the wisps of steam from errant heat. I will admit to racing out to the backyard and peeing into the fluffy mounds to see the hot smoke rise from the melted snow. Ill run the dryer and watch the agonized steam come from the vent. That is made much easier by all my layers. The urinating not so much.

But I have to race back in because the cold is most tactile in my toes. A child that globs on and lingers just where they meet the foot. Nothing cuts to the bone but it lingers which is worst about the cold because the days however short seem long and January slumbers to the horizon.

Laundromat Spook

I lived for a year in a tiny town in upstate New York called Trumansburg. It is famous for being the birthplace of the Moog Synthesizer and then a summer music fest called Grassroots. The fact both these musical things happened in the same one mile strip always made me chuckle.

It also had what seemed like two of everything but not in a helpful way for a town that seemed to be 1 mile wide by 5 miles long. Two grocery stores at opposite ends of town. Two video stores. Two greasy pizza style sports bars. Two laundromats. All in a one to two mile radius.

One laundromat was owned by a guy named Skip and I had no patience for such whimsy. He named his washers old fashioned fat lady names. Bertha is down! Belinda is a faster washer! Eunice? Oh, yeah that is my favorite washer, Eunice!

The other was the "corporate" one albeit it was run by what seemed to be a straight up ancient hag witch. Im not a looker but damn she was what you imagine when someone is being super by a super sexy illusion.

"No, don't go, Joe! I saw her reflection in the puddle at our feet and she is not hot. She is a monster!"

But I befriended her because I listened while she ranted about the price of canned vegetables. And those two supermarkets? One was better because it sold "real" Del Monte vegetables.

She collected unsold copies of the local county paper and gave them to the coffee shop across rhe street in exchange for punches on a loyalty card. Apparently the printer bought the unsold copies back. Which I never understood but it was a small local paper and she went hard for canned vegetables so why should I ask.

She never bought coffee but after hundreds of papers she would get a towering hot chocolate which like the Del Monte must have been unapologetically real.

Taste in Music

Recently at work I told someone I would rather be blind than deaf and they were surprised. I mean seeing things is very helpful indeed but sound to me is much more evocative. And don't take me for some sort of audiophile. I have horrible tastes in music. And note in this hypothetical scenario it were as if I was struck down now with blindness. So I would have years of visual memories to draw from. But, yeah, I would stick with sound.

That's an intro that when I am feeling anxious or bluesy I want to turn to writing. And this week is LOADED with anxiety so these blogs are going to be coming. Where is my "Aww Lawd he comin" meme? And my awful taste in music, which I am going to share with you because 1) THIS WEEK and 2) No one reads this

In an earlier post I mentioned how life feels like a video game so musical scores and the themes played in bumpers and theme songs hit me hard. I get a lot more imagery and memory from those than a straight up 3-4-5 minute song. And that is all true except I also have a deep seated love for awful party girl pop.

I know she recorded this under horrible duress and that the image personified in it is far from her actual person but I may like Ke$ha's Animals a bit too much. Like in "Your Love is My Drug" there is a wicked line that goes "Does my love make your heat beat like an 808 drum" and yes, I try to wrap that up into casual conversation (See below) and, yes, I will make that motion where I loop my hands over each other, place them against my chest and motion them up and down. Mimicking a heart beat. I have no shame.



But I love that line. Mostly because I love all this electronic mish mosh, bing bong stuff, but it speaks to my soul...

Co-Worker: "Oh, hey I brought in some cake for the office. Its in the break room"
Me: "Oh, thank you. That makes my heart beat like an 808 drum."
Co-Worker: ????

Mechanic: "It looks like your caliper is gone and you are closing to blowing a rod and it going through your engine block. I can fix it but will be a week to get parts and I am thinking $3,200."
Me: "Oh...that does not make my heart beak like an 808 drum."
Mechanic: ???

I also have quite the love for Demi Lovato and Heart Attack which is extra ridiculous since it is a schmaltzy girl power song. Nothing wrong with that but I cannot empathize with "painting my nails and wear perfume" and "make him bounce like a basketball" But, damn do I love it because it sounds like something you listen while beating people up. At least the chorus. Its a song played before some hero just dunks on the bad guys. If the hero was a heroine...getting ready for a date.

I drive a nine year old purple Honda Fit with 2 lame tires but I will sometimes take a turn a bit too tight if I am listening to Rihanna's Shut up and Drive. Driving to work, juggling my phone and drinking coffee mouthing...

"Cause its 0 to 60 in 3.5/ Baby, you got the keys/ Now shut up and drive!"



And the allegory in this song is very heavy handed and it is not lost on me but I take it like the literal version. They had it Wreck it Ralph! Has to to be wholesome, right?

Talking about dreams...sorry

I can't remember the bit or show but I remember a scene where someone says that they hate when people talk about their dreams. Its boring. It's not a nice scene. It stuck with me because I resist it albeit I always find it a good catalyst to blog. Talking about dreams that is. Even just typing down what you dreamt of before it is lost forever. A digital dream journal.

I had a recent one that stuck out because it staggered over several awakenings. I sleep in a herdy-gerdy style with 3 hours on then 15 minutes up then another 4 hours, etc. And this dream picked up where it left off as my subconscious slide it through the night. This never happens with good dreams mind you. Most of my dreams are heavy on the #fomo. Or end on cliffhangers

"Unsheaths sword...ok, let's go!....WAKE UP!"
"The paperwork has cleared and you are now the owner of...WAKE UP"
"The mobile suit powers on, it's eyes glowing ready...WAKE UP,
"Oh, let me bend and snap to pick up this shiny penny...WAKE UP"

This all reads quite hackneyed. The worlds lamest collection of choose your own adventure endings.

In this running dream I'm at work but typical to these scenarios its not my building. Instead work is a giant corporate/airport style food court or grand atrium. Lots of glass up in angles and shiny chrome framing. Exposed ventilation high up in the ceilings and sealed marble floors in alternating swaths of white and emerald.
And my coworkers are working at short satiny chrome cafe tables with neat folding chairs. Everyone sits at one table, some stacks of paper on some and laptops on others. This sounds sad but it's a serene and copacetic scene. People mill about and chat. They seem to get things done. And don't worry everyone is wearing clothes! Most importantly me! Not that hackneyed! ;-)

Save for me. In the dream I am hustling from end to end of this airport terminal acting as an office trying to fix a copier. Which is something I unofficially do at work. And I forgot the toner and I need to blast across the floor. Oh, and then its something with the staples and fuck those are in another closet! If we even have spares. And I shuffle to and fro mumbling to myself, head down and playing our whole convos in my head even pantomining gestures. Practicing my "No, I don't know why it won't work!"

Maybe im manic because outside it feels like a coup is happening. It like the airport scene in Congo (remember that movie!?) except with much less Ernie Hudson. Actually none.

Helicopters buzz. Cars turf lawns as they zip across streets and parks. A group of 4 guys rappel down the crystal walls and rushes into a playground. Everyone lools very official and war ready and im inside wearing khakis. The world outside looks exactly like the area around my work. And no one inside looks up from their serene tables. Mind that no one outside is trying to get in but our location is the hub for all this.

And the rest of the dream is the hum of all this zipping about.

What does it mean? Because my subconscious serialized it over an evening.

Is it...a comment on what I can and cannot control?

A bad omen?

Mentall chaff from those weird tactical gear ads I see? You look into buying one set of kevlar arm sleeves and people think your masculinity is so frgaile you get ads for tactical hearing aids.

Just a dream?

On point

At work one of responsibilities is to order things. All kinds of things. Office supplies. Furniture. Discs of sandpaper. Chemistry kits. Hotel bookings and pizzas. Ordering food fills me with the most anxiety because what if it is late and people are upset?
I also deliver a lot of the stuff which can be annoying like when i had to lug a yoga mat the size of curbside trash can up 3 floors but I need the exercise. And I think people appreciate it. They notice that. People notice hustle and being prepared an on the spot. Earn respect and all that.

So one day I delivered a set of office supplies to one coworker and placed it om her desk. And she walked in at the time and I said its your stuff and she said "cool" and went onto work.

And the not saying thank you really stuck with me. Why didn't she say something? Undoubtedly it is because of something with me, yes? Or do I listen to the lizard part of my brain and be, "No, it's her fault!" How rude, right?! Or, no, she is likely super busy and just forgot. Occams razor, right? I'm naturally crabby so I don't want to listen to the list of times I was less than 100% on point. Because it would be the sort of stuff people read when they try to filibuster a bill.

What do you call the inverse of a meme? Not an idea but a little nugget of doubt that sticks with you like the peeble in your shoe? There has to be a German word for it, correct? Because here I am typing it all up days afterwards.

Something Current: Bandersnatch

Just like I have read zero Harry Potter or seen zero Doctor Who, the fact I've only seen maybe 4 episodes of Black Mirror betrays the pre cut narrative of me. I'll get to them some day.

I did see the Black Mirror du jour, Bandersnatch, which has the neat gimmick of being "choose your own adventure style."

And it's neat. The signature twist is what makes it just a bit sharper than what I expected. I won't spoil it but it is unexpected because you have the choice to not just break the 4th wall but absolutely go Kool Aid man annihilation on it. The other options are more in line with rhe usual Black Mirror dystopia.

Like all their productions, this Black Mirror is well made and looks great. This was certainly a difficult show to make what with multiple endings and needing to connect all the varying threads. And like any good "choose your own adventure" you can go back to see what could have been. Albeit, this does take me out of the narrative when the option is literally "Go back." Or you get forced into a channel that streams you to the next, and only, option. But that is making the story. While I thought it would be neat to have a story where "Hey, you decide to listen to your folks and take your meds and go to therapy and become, over time, a well adjusted adult" that would make for a very short story. There does seem, like in video games, "good" and "bad" endings.

This all said, it is a gimmick. Neat one but this is a movie with multiple endings. One for theaters, one for "home video," etc. That's not too weird. What is bold is you can access it all right there and not on some blu ray or message board. At that point it seems to lose a bit of punch. Maybe its just me but I feel whatever ending you get first you are going to think is the one true one. You never forget your first!

Maybe we will look at this and say it is groundbreaking in a few years. But I can play a video game for an interactive entertainment experience

Worth a viewing and a great piece to watch with friends.