Saturday, January 10, 2004

Smelling the ice roses

Been reading Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, and loving it. In the Salon book review, Andrew O'Hehir describes the moral of the story quite nicely: "while facts can tell us a great deal about life, they are never quite sufficient to the task." And the story's protagonist believes that language fails to capture life's "complicated hybrid emotions." Agreed.

It's minus 25-30 degrees celsius here the past few days. That's pretty cold. But if you bundle up and venture outside nice and warm, with only your cheeks exposed, an hour-long walk through the ice and snow can be utter joy. I love the feeling of a warm body and cold cheeks! My frozen cheeks send flashes of electric light through my body and remind me that I'm sometimes scared by the intensity of my desires. Winter walks are good.

I learned that in England there are winter pansies - flowers that can bloom outside in the winter. (This amazes me.) Growing up in the tropics is what I hold responsible for never going a day of my life without thinking that I love, and now deeply miss, flowers growing around me. That's the saddest part of winter.

Been listening a lot to The Roots and Medeski, Martin and Wood. Groove is good in winter too, especially if you want to take time to smell the ice roses.


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