"He sings them for you special. He knows you're afraid of the dark."
I slept about ten hours, which seems like a miracle. I think its been more than a year since I've done that, and it's been weeks since I slept for than six hours straight. I woke to a frozen world and a thermometer whose mercury had crashed to 0˚F, with a -13˚F windchill. Spooky already had a fire going, because she'd been up since about nine.
We're beginning to think I actually broke the big toe on my left foot, the one I dropped the poker on, way back on the 5th. More than two weeks ago. I haven't been to the doctor. I don't want to pay for an X-ray. It'll heal, one way or another.
I'm actually not sure if there's much about the drive to and back from Providence that's all that remarkable. That is, worthy of remarks. According to the odometer, we did 389.4 miles, round trip. Yesterday, I talked about how bad things are in Providence. There's all sorts of chaos regarding transit, including an impending strike by school bus drivers (also, Rhode Island hospital workers are about to strike, it seems). Our neighbor, who teaches at Brown, said she saw a standoff between two city buses downtown, neither driver wanting to be the one to back up. The snow is heaped into filthy mountains, many towering well above the cars plowing along, slushwise, between them. It's not a sight I ever want to see again.
Spooky was pleased with the Swans show. I was hardly able to endure the hipsters, swilling their Budweiser. Why the fuck do hipsters drink Budweiser? They know it tastes like piss and cornflakes, right? Is it part of the whole pretense to being blue-collar working class? Or is it masochism? Jesus, all those douches and their devices. Don't get me started on the devices. Anyway, the hipsters fucking own Providence, the beardy guys and their dowdy faux Suicide Girls. Are there gay hipsters? They all seem profoundly hetero. Spooky heard some old punk dude say, "I kind of miss the posers." Fucking A. At least they were pretty to look at.
After crossing the frozen slurry of the Hudson, we got back to the cabin about 3:30 p.m. (CaST). Just as we pulled up, I spotted a male pileated woodpecker (Hylatomus pileatus, formerly Dryocopus pileatus). Spooky stopped, and I got some photos. We got Chinese takeout, because we were both too tired to cook. We finished the first half of the final season of Mad Men, then watched an episode of The West Wing. I must have been asleep before one a.m.
And as promised, photos:
Kevin Costner has moved to upstate New York, where he runs a snow plow at interstate rest stops.
The Alfred H. Smith Memorial Bridge above a frozen Hudson River. View to the South.
Swans at the Columbus Theater
After the show. Our buried street. Well, that's sidewalk, actually.
This photo and the following three, Night and Day, Not Long Before Dawn
The Snow and I.
The Armory, 10:50 a.m.
The Hudson, view to the north, from the Castleton Bridge.
Again, the Hudson, view to the north, from the Castleton Bridge.
Hylatomus pileatus
Hylatomus pileatus
All photographs Copyright © 2015 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
And I've spent entirely too long on this.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
We're beginning to think I actually broke the big toe on my left foot, the one I dropped the poker on, way back on the 5th. More than two weeks ago. I haven't been to the doctor. I don't want to pay for an X-ray. It'll heal, one way or another.
I'm actually not sure if there's much about the drive to and back from Providence that's all that remarkable. That is, worthy of remarks. According to the odometer, we did 389.4 miles, round trip. Yesterday, I talked about how bad things are in Providence. There's all sorts of chaos regarding transit, including an impending strike by school bus drivers (also, Rhode Island hospital workers are about to strike, it seems). Our neighbor, who teaches at Brown, said she saw a standoff between two city buses downtown, neither driver wanting to be the one to back up. The snow is heaped into filthy mountains, many towering well above the cars plowing along, slushwise, between them. It's not a sight I ever want to see again.
Spooky was pleased with the Swans show. I was hardly able to endure the hipsters, swilling their Budweiser. Why the fuck do hipsters drink Budweiser? They know it tastes like piss and cornflakes, right? Is it part of the whole pretense to being blue-collar working class? Or is it masochism? Jesus, all those douches and their devices. Don't get me started on the devices. Anyway, the hipsters fucking own Providence, the beardy guys and their dowdy faux Suicide Girls. Are there gay hipsters? They all seem profoundly hetero. Spooky heard some old punk dude say, "I kind of miss the posers." Fucking A. At least they were pretty to look at.
After crossing the frozen slurry of the Hudson, we got back to the cabin about 3:30 p.m. (CaST). Just as we pulled up, I spotted a male pileated woodpecker (Hylatomus pileatus, formerly Dryocopus pileatus). Spooky stopped, and I got some photos. We got Chinese takeout, because we were both too tired to cook. We finished the first half of the final season of Mad Men, then watched an episode of The West Wing. I must have been asleep before one a.m.
And as promised, photos:
Kevin Costner has moved to upstate New York, where he runs a snow plow at interstate rest stops.
The Alfred H. Smith Memorial Bridge above a frozen Hudson River. View to the South.
Swans at the Columbus Theater
After the show. Our buried street. Well, that's sidewalk, actually.
This photo and the following three, Night and Day, Not Long Before Dawn
The Snow and I.
The Armory, 10:50 a.m.
The Hudson, view to the north, from the Castleton Bridge.
Again, the Hudson, view to the north, from the Castleton Bridge.
Hylatomus pileatus
Hylatomus pileatus
All photographs Copyright © 2015 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
And I've spent entirely too long on this.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast