happy st. patty's day.

a tall mugful of earl grey tea in hand, its wisps of steam warming lips. the window frames a silver blend of snow, rain, and dew, a low windy howl in the distance. boston's irish energy is fantastically tempered by an act of god. coincidence?



this doesnt say it better. freezing drizzle. it may be sweeter as a frozen dessert than a daily forecast, methinks. but as long as i am warm and dry (or, at least my feet), i am in a stable mood.

last night i slept for 12 hours. this morning, a workout and a bowl of cereal. glasses askew.

i'm still recovering from my return from sxsw. don't know if it's the ongoing grey, low-pressure weather, or a cataclysm of acclimation from warm sun, intense A/C into long flights; high consumption levels of texmex bowing to homestyle stirfry. it could be the massive amount of catch-back and email frenzy to follow, which is not so much as unenjoyable as it is a bit tedious. high payoff, though.

such is the same as blogging and flickring, back to a situated routine. a bit everyday, time well spent, my existence documented, redeemed, somehow.

a quote referenced at the festival: if you're not on myspace, you don't exist.

i'm not persuaded by that argument, but try replacing 'myspace' with written documents, photographs, letters, emails, journals, scribbles, notes, recordings, snapshots, memories of others. traces of self. truly, does anyone hear when a man falls (alone) in the forest?

yesterday we were hit from the blizzard. i felt smug until i was forced to leave my workplace, and proceed (for about the next half hour) to get pummeled with tiny ice pellets in my face. after each leg of the pedestrian journey, my bag was laden with a thick layer of snow. i went to fetch milk and toilet paper from whole foods like a sensible citizen, and trudged home through shin-high drifts with completely tread-less boots. (these are scheduled to arrive today.)





the night beautiful, i feel asleep to the pelt-pelt of frozen showers. but here we are the next day, it's more wet than white, and i just want to continue with my warm tea.

in case no one believed my exaggerated rainy plights in austin, here are some shots from eviltwin, aka andy beaumont, who caught the wet evidence.






song of the moment: múm, póst póstmaetur, off friends of the random summer. energy crackling beneath a silent expanse.