So The Trees Got Tired And Laid On The Ground

So, my nemesis has returned.

Ice.

Fucking. Ice.

There will be no show at Othello's tonight. There will most likely be no electricity (or running water) at my house tonight. There's a live power line draped across the only street leading to or from my house. My yard is littered with branches and broken trees. It's like a damn arboreal charnel house. The picture above is of a mulberry tree that has stood in that yard for as long as I can remember. Each summer it rained down tasty mulberries for anyone passing by, and now it has toppled over, uprooted under the weight of frozen branches.

I hate you, Ice. I hate you so very fucking much.

And I Can't, Can't Get That The Future Might Depend A Bit On These Mistakes I Keep Making Over

Walking to work yesterday morning I slipped and fell on the ice again, not 20 feet away from where I fell on Friday. My favorite part of the whole experience was watching a station wagon drive past me without stopping to check and see if I was hurt. I can only imagine that it must have looked pretty funny to the driver. I felt angry that they didn't stop to see if I was hurt, but for all I know they could have been dealing with something far worse, so I won't judge too harshly. We all have our own burdens, and it is a rare person indeed who would stop to help a stranger. I realized, as I lay twitching on the sidewalk, that human kindness should never be taken for granted. It is the simplest, most beautiful, and sadly, the most rare gift we can give each other. I felt blessed, actually, to relearn that lesson.

I didn't feel so fucking blessed when I fell again walking home from work that afternoon. Yeah, twice in one fucking day. Three fucking times in four fucking days, and I should point out that I didn't even leave the house on Saturday. So, I'm averaging one fall per day. If I was your fucking grandma, I would be fucking dead by now. How fucking hard is it to put some fucking salt on the fucking sidewalk? Understand, people, that we are a fucking family, all right, and that we have to fucking look out for each other. If you own a fucking building with a fucking public sidewalk, and it fucking freezes, throw some fucking salt on the fucking ice, you lazy fucking bastards! Society depends on people living up to their fucking responsibilities to other members of society. This breakdown of order is un-fucking-acceptable, largely because it directly affects me, but also because it speaks to a growing inability or unwillingness on the part of certain fucking individuals to accept that with power and possessions come duties and obligations.

Anyway, I guess I'm just saying be careful out there, and try to look out for each other. Oh, and I fucking hate ice.

I'll Stop The World And Melt With You

While walking to work today, my mind was drifting about. I was listening to Death Cab For Cutie's cover of "Earth Angel" and thinking about Back to the Future when all of the sudden I started to move in directions I didn't like. My feet shot out from under me, and I started to fall backwards into the slush and snow-covered ice that blanketed the pavement. As I went down, I noticed the dark green Range Rover stopped on the other side of the intersection and was glad that someone got to see my go down. 'Cause falling down in the street is like drinking: it's just not that funny if you do it by yourself. So, not to draw out the suspense too much, let me just admit that gravity won our little skirmish and I ended up flat on my back in the street. I did not crack my head open, though, which is nice, but I did break my fall with my iBook again. Strangely, the iPod never even paused.

So, I'm laying in the street, and for some reason I feel compelled to make that "aww shucks" arm-pump and snap, like that's going to show the world that I'm not dead and I've still got a sense of humor about it. Really though, I just didn't want Range Rover calling 911 for me unnecessarily. I stood up, brushed myself off a bit, and then made a flourishy dismount motion with my hands and the Range Rover drove off.

All in all, I felt like a total corncob.

As I kept moving on towards work, I was eventually glad that I had not died or cracked my noggin open on the street. But, I do think if I had to do it over, I'd nix the "aww shucks" and the dismount. Instead, I think I'd rather just lie there and twitch for a bit.

As I got closer to work, though, I kept thinking about how much I'm not willing to die for my job. Or any job, for that matter. And I thought about how shitty it would be if I had made some brain-omelet trying to get to work and wound up as the 24th Oklahoman to die from the ice storm. There's something very unsettling and necessary in there, about turning the dead into numbers. I'm not sure what it is, but I did take a Loritab about an hour ago, so that's how it goes.

Anyway, the same spot of ice was waiting for me when I walked home this afternoon, still slick and hateful as ever. I imagine that it's always going to be there in one way or another, waiting in the wings to spoil me and steal my potential. Well, not literally of course, as this damn ice will eventually melt.

But you knew what I meant.