Cold Everest

Monday, 27 January 2003

’tis cur­rently 1° out­side my win­dow. cou­pled with the wind chill and the weight of my fenc­ing bag, i am not look­ing for­ward to the 20 min­ute walk to work to­day. i haven’t been out­side for about 24 hours but i still feel like pretty much any old guy from a Jack London short story. Lost in the Yukon, in weather so cold spit freezes be­fore it hits the ground and me with nary a match to start a fire. so i slowly de­scribe how i freeze to death in ag­o­niz­ing fash­ion. or maybe i feel like that guy who climbed ever­est, went snow­blind and froze to the moun­tain. peo­ple came and looked at him, as­sumed he was dead and left to pick him up later. the only thing is, he could see them but not com­mu­ni­cate be­cause he was frozen. some­how, he man­aged to start mov­ing and made it back to base camp. he lost his arms, legs, ears, tip of the nose, pretty much any­thing that sticks out. i think i would’ve just stayed on the moun­tain.

i think i heard some­where that Everest is so high that some­times the jet stream will dip down and knock peo­ple off. i can just pic­ture that crotch­ety old North wind with his dis­tended cheeks leer­ing as an­other climber is puffed off the moun­tain like so much dryer lint.

Packrat Purge

Sunday, 4 August 2002

the pack­rat purge is com­plete and sev­eral gro­cery bags are now filled with ran­dom para­phre­na­lia that i deemed un­nec­ces­sary to store for an­other year. to­day i also washed my car and bought a pic­ture al­bum to house my col­le­giate pho­tographs. my room is now liv­able for the next few weeks.

we need wa­ter ter­ri­bly. we’ve had no rain in over a month and every­thing is ei­ther dead or dy­ing. the gras crum­bles to dust when it is stepped on, the ground is cracked, there in­sect count is even low. there is no stir in the air. much of my town’s liveli­hood is de­pen­dent on the suc­cess of the crop. if we get shat on this year the al­ready de­pressed eco­nomic straits of our com­mu­nity will only be com­pounded. i’m read­ing Double Indemnity and I ex­pect to com­plete it this evening.

Happy 1st Anniversary to Brian and Alice Stone!