I Am Not Blogging

i am not fully recovered from last week's wintry assault. a variety of empty talking heads have had the gall to chirp perkily about how quickly the boston area recovered from the incredible quantity of snow dumped on it. for my part, i entertained fantasies of burying them up to the neck in one of the monstrous snowbanks that still makes some sidewalks unmanageable around here.

the guv'nah only gave non-essential employees one snow day. all things government were 'officially' re-opened tuesday after the storm. most businesses wearily shoveled their sidewalks and staffed stores that were starved for crucial foot traffic. none of this means that the streets were navigable. cambridge was an impassable, slushy, white hell for a week. i no longer mock those shoppers who mobbed the trader joe's on western avenue on saturday afternoon before the storm. when the boston weather forecast contains the word 'blizzard', it pays to be vigilant. even if the purported blizzard usually turns out to be an unremarkable, albeit heavy winter storm, there is always that rare occasion when the future conforms to the prediction.

in this case, the future outdid the prediction. 'blizzard' is simply too weak a term to apply to the smothering, white winter noise that enveloped the entire state for 24 hours two weeks ago. the snow descended in sheets, constantly whipped about by hurricane force winds. to venture outside was to seek an intimate ... nay ... _traumatic_ encounter with the meaning of the word 'cold'. that banshee wind sucked the warmth right out of one's bones, leaving one with nary a memory of the meaning of 'heat'.

any image of summer took on the quality of heavenly mirage -- 'summer' retreated behind the curtain of unattainable paradise, reserved only for the good, pure, and faithful of deed, spirit, and heart. for the rest of the teeming mass of humanity -- the lonely and lost sinners, the vision was a torment, for they harbored the poison of despair in themselves. their inner voice whispered sly discouragement into their ears -- and it beckoned to them to accept the false warmth of the cold. it was tempting to simply lie down and stop moving when one's feet and hands were numb blocks of ice, and home was still a whole block away.

and they say we atheists don't have an appreciation for heaven and hell. i laugh at that. the only thing i have to do is think about the heat death of the universe.