"Don't talk, Please, Linc. Not in words. I couldn't bear it if words came between us."
-Bester, The Demolished Man
I've had a curious past few weeks, where the emotional temperature inside has gone up (and tempers have flared) in proportion as the weather outside has gotten colder.
And outside it has gotten bitterly cold; while walking to school, I listen to Kim Stanley Robinson's Red Mars, which dwells in loving detail on the descriptions of Martian cold, and when I go inside the library, I have to wipe from my glasses the ice that has formed from my breath, and I have to be careful that my scarf hasn't frozen to my lips. Ray Bradbury once wrote a story titled "Mars is Heaven!" -- but I know Chicago is Mars, and heaven it ain't.
As for the bitter goings-on inside, I don't really want to talk right now about the indoor fireworks; suffice to say that, as the Elvis Costello song tells us, they can still burn your fingers.
So instead, I'll turn it over to you:
a) What do you listen to when you're upset?
b) Have you ever sent or gotten a message through the songs on a mix tape?
and c) How are you doing out there?
[Edit: another thing I meant to mention -- not in any way related to my black mood, but a curious thing -- is that in the past few months I've lost a few Friendsters, and the aggravating thing about that is I can't tell who; I just know it's not any of the people I expected to drop out of friendster/drop me as a friendster. Like the airline stewardess I went out on one date with, or the friend whom I never met of a girl I went on a few dates with -- they're all still there.]
I've had a curious past few weeks, where the emotional temperature inside has gone up (and tempers have flared) in proportion as the weather outside has gotten colder.
And outside it has gotten bitterly cold; while walking to school, I listen to Kim Stanley Robinson's Red Mars, which dwells in loving detail on the descriptions of Martian cold, and when I go inside the library, I have to wipe from my glasses the ice that has formed from my breath, and I have to be careful that my scarf hasn't frozen to my lips. Ray Bradbury once wrote a story titled "Mars is Heaven!" -- but I know Chicago is Mars, and heaven it ain't.
As for the bitter goings-on inside, I don't really want to talk right now about the indoor fireworks; suffice to say that, as the Elvis Costello song tells us, they can still burn your fingers.
So instead, I'll turn it over to you:
a) What do you listen to when you're upset?
b) Have you ever sent or gotten a message through the songs on a mix tape?
and c) How are you doing out there?
[Edit: another thing I meant to mention -- not in any way related to my black mood, but a curious thing -- is that in the past few months I've lost a few Friendsters, and the aggravating thing about that is I can't tell who; I just know it's not any of the people I expected to drop out of friendster/drop me as a friendster. Like the airline stewardess I went out on one date with, or the friend whom I never met of a girl I went on a few dates with -- they're all still there.]