The semi-unspoken rules I set for myself when starting this blog then halfheartedly enforced no longer make sense. I am no longer in the place of plenty where it is currently 52° and clear, I live in the soulless land of naught where it is 29°, feels like 18°, and is deluged in a “Wintry Mix”. The phrase reminds one of warmth, paradoxically; Wintry Mix sounds like something mildly tasty in a bowl by the door at a Christmas Party, the kind of thing that’s crunchy, a bit zesty, disturbingly spicy, and nearly always brown and orange. Know that it is not that which is currently raining down from the heavens, and will be falling upon my head as I trek to the Chinese food place. I was cooking, I only have $7 until Friday, and then a roach crawled out of my oven. It nauseates me at current to venture back into the kitchen, although I know there are most likely roaches in the kitchen of the Chinese food place. Because I have not seen these roaches, the concept of them bothers me less. I am not viscerally involved, although paradoxically, perhaps I am.
I am playing Bob Dylan’s “Things Have Changed” over and over, which I sadly only have on an “Essential” collection. I need more Dylan. This weekend, Wintry Mix be damned, I will buy some Dylan cds along with the acoustic guitar I have been planning to buy for two weeks, my first.