October 20, 2003
AHH, I really really want it to snow. Huge drifts of crystalized magic. White vanilla ice cream, not French Vanilla, because, although it might taste better, it's slightly off-white. Cold and crisp, the very top layer is crunchy, but underneath the frozen seal, snowflake upon snowflake lay, not mashed together, but carefully placed to not smash any of them. The sun melts the magic ever so slightly, and no longer are they perfect, untouchable artifacts from an unknown world, but snowballs, igloos, ski-jumps, "white-washers" and slide slickers. Those of you who don't know what the latter two are, are very much missing out. Days of laughter in the air, a different magic, the same deck of cards, but a different trick. Not mysterious, eye-catching classical art,now a whimsical Worhal. Something so normal, so everyday (Cambell's tomato soup) repeated again and again. The right angle, the right thought and you're spun into a world of light-hearted Picasso's and colorful black&white photographs. Curious.
Tommy don't like that pipe Your tongue, it will stick like glue It's True!
