Oh my God, people! I nearly lost some extremities while spending most of today wandering around dark windswept roads in Downtown Boston and the North End—on an ultimately futile mission (quite the concoction of miseries.) In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out I’m currently missing a finger or three.
I’ve already spoken about my aversion to this weather (“Nothing drags down your spirits like waiting for a ridiculously delayed subway train on a gray morning while infernal cold seeps through your toes”). But I’ll admit that a bit more care about appropriate attire would rid most of my complaints—plus it’s not like I live in a place where “winter is an episode straight out of Ragnarök, that time of divine twilight, when an all-devouring wolf swallows the sun and the earth is ensheathed in a great veil of ice and other strange and unsettling things happen.”
Regardless, Ezra Pound’s parody of a summer-welcoming song captures my feelings on the matter:
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Damm you; Sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, ’tis why I am, Goddamm,
So ‘gainst the winter’s balm.
—‘Ancient Music‘
Anyway—the cleverly-abbreviated ‘seasonal affective disorder’ be damned—I’m convinced that it’s just a matter of attitude. Aye, I’m resolved to spend this season in irritatingly high spirits. To that end, here’s a video of Tori Amos performing ‘Winter’ live (which is albeit so heavy on metaphor that you don’t really know whether she’s talking about winter per se. A quote attributed to her is “I’m a winter girl. I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody’s ready to slit their wrists.”)
The day might yet be saved, for I’m off to meet Andrew (aka Jalenack) at Ivy. Actually, I should have left by now. Gotta run!
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