Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Only the hardiest of nerds will appreciate this. It’s one of them thar spoofs.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Fiction, leastways that’s what I think I told you a few weeks ago, and more of it. Good thing constructs like scheduling and consistency and honoring promises are as yet unpronounceable to our frozen tongues. Silent “G,” damn it, silent “G.” I’m not completely pitiless, however, and where once I’d tenderly whisper sugared pledges in your ear before pushing you down the stairs, now I shall drag you back up the stairs and resume whispering. That’s the Spirit of the Christmas Future talking.

It’s not fair to begin an arc, sever it midstream, and then resuscitate it months later. Let’s give it a term, call it necroarcing, because honestly it will happen again down the road, not that I can do anything about it. Or can I? Observant readers will have noticed a feature updated on the right-hand side, a little something I like to call a table of contents. They say these things are like maps, but for words. Who here can read a map, though? Precisely.

We have until next Wednesday to finish strong and get our shit together. I have high hopes, how about you? I picture half a dozen tales crafted effortlessly on a whim, regaled with holiday cheer, richly validated by our mutual enjoyment. And then we pass out after drinking too much eggnog. Oh, I’m sorry. The Ghost of Christmas Realism couldn’t make it today.

Thursday, December 8, 2005

Ever wonder what it’d be like to not know the current ambient temperature and go about your day unfettered by such trivial knowledge? There was a time when I’d break out the shorts as soon as the thermometer hit 45 or above, before degrees Celsius or Fahrenheit were available in my lexicon. It was either hot or cold.

It’s been 7°F twice this week–yet we’re only at the beat before the drop. The weather websites told me this, my car told me this, and I could’ve done without knowing this. Realizing it’s 25 below freezing simply makes it colder, even before the windchill statistics are discovered. They say weather forecasts were originally used by farmers and, like denim, gained public appeal, but what if this never happened?

That’s useless posturing, however, because I’m still going to need to scrape off the snow and ice from my car tomorrow morning. When a place gets this cold, it means you’d better have a goddamned good reason for being there. If you don’t? Fabricate one. What if this is the same connecting flight you’ll be taking in two weeks? Hope they replace the landing gear. The story ends the same way no matter which link I click.