Yes Norm, indeed it is true—-relentless snow and gray skies can render my mood gloomy and lead me into dark bleak places. It’s been a long hard winter—The Winter of my Discontent” John Steinbeck. I haven’t gone completely mad—-yet? I haven’t killed anyone and buried them under my floorboards “The Tell-Tale Heart” Edgar Allen Poe—-yet? But under the right conditions we can all be driven stalk mad crazy. We can find ourselves doing unthinkable things to one another. And may I ask, when did the hug become a choke hold? I hear them talk, I hear them whisper to one another, plotting against me, making wretched plans to foil my dreams and undo my flawed desires. One man’s fetish is another man’s torture. The opposite of love is not hate, but rather vengeance.
The snow hems me in behind my frozen doorways and the wind whistles through my windows at night. It sounds like the soundtrack to a scary clown movie. The pantry is empty, my snow shovel broken and my only light is that from a flickering candle. I keep my one good eye on her and my other on the hands of the unwound grandfather clock. Time no longer exists in this abysmal season. She desperately wants to leave this god forsaken cabin, but she is stuck here with me until the spring thaw. And god only knows what the melting Perma Frost may reveal.
I think walking on all cylinders isn’t an oxymoron, but rather a mixed metaphor. Words are precious things and not to be toyed with or misused. When people mess with things that they don’t understand it leads to a break down in communication AND THAT MAKES ME AWFULLY ANGRY!!!!
Who’d of thought that out of 26 letters all the masterpieces have been written. What if there were 27 letters? Just think, what poems and stories that could be comprised of 27 letters, a hundred letters?
The white snow blankets everything, like a white canvas covered in white paint. They say no two snowflakes are the same……I extrapolate from that, no two women’s bodies are the same, but that makes no difference to a man who craves the sun.
