THE GREAT GADFLY:

Gadfly On Ice - So Nice

But I would wager it's far colder today.

I woke up to the comforting morning image of a spider-web lattice of ice splayed across my living room windows. Later on, when I took a mere three seconds to throw out my garbage, I found myself chilled deeper than to the bone - I was chilled to the very core of my existence.

I'm telling you, it's cold today. Colder than I 'spect it's got a good damn right to be. It ain't fair nor is it natural for it to be this cold. I tell you whut - it's damn cold. Ayup.

And it's not like this is my first winter in Chicago. It's my third. I think we had strong weather karma the last couple of years. Well, the good vibes have now officially run out, cuz it's some legendary diamond-nipple, tundra-ass, bitter freakin' Chicago cold.

I trust I've made my point on today's weather. Feel free to contact me with any unresolved ambiguities that may persist for you.

Yesterday, I got late Christmas presents in the mail from my Grandmother. She sent me a really nice blender, a set of forest green sheets, and a figurine of a wizard in a purple robe holding a dragon-headed scepter, presiding over a Faberge-style hinged egg that encases a "hidden mystic gem".

My grandmother for some reason, is always about the wizard/dragon themed gifts. We've tried to get her to stop - we've actually held interventions, pleaing for the end of yon faire dragon giftes - but she just won't hear it. One year she got me a sculpture of a baby dragon hatching from an egg. I kinda liked that one, actually. But the ongoing stockpile of ceramic Merlins, fantasy raptors and scaly wonderbeasts is just too much. Not, you know, that I'm an ingrate or anything, but...well...let's see you get a Hidden Gem Merlin and see how YOU deal with it.

And, you know, the thing is, I never got into Dungeons & Dragons - oh, I tried to play once, and my friends relegated my little elf character, whose name I think was "Guido", to mere comic relief status. And, you know, I'm a guy who thought "Lord of the Rings" was tiring. I mean, I don't even own a Rush album. What's my dear granny thinking?

I'm thinking of trying to do something ironic and PoMo with the poor thing. Maybe spray paint it hot pink and put a Barbie head in the egg where the "hidden mystic gem" should go. Something like that. Oy.

Yeah. These are the kinds of things on my mind today.

I haven't shaved in like two and a half days, because I'm afraid of my bare face skin getting frostbitten and falling off my skull in this apocalyptic winter wasteland. And also, because I don't have to look presentable until my job starts on Monday, and it's my last gasp at deep-down slackerdom for what I hope will be a long, long time.

Until my return to the world of nine-ta-five drudgery arrives, however, I plan on keeping toasty and inert as much as possible, despite the overflowing bags of laundry silently beckoning in the hallway, yawning with desperate urgency with pleas of personal hygiene. I plan to fill up on pasta and popcorn as much as possible, in hopes that I can build a sufficient layer of blubber to shield me against the harsh elements of this midwestern winterworld in which I am shiveringly situated.

I'm such a wuss, I know. But at least for a couple of days, I take great comfort in knowing that I'm ever so welcome to embrace my wussitude to the fullest.

And hey - my self-imposed winter quarantine HAS led to my motivating myself (wellll, with a little prodding...) to set a few hours aside to complete a second draft of a super-secret creative project that's been bubbling under my skull for the past couple of months, leading to me actually getting off my ass (and right back on my ass, as is customary for the act of writing) and hacking out a new and improved, fresh steaming pile of syntax for said project. More details to follow, but for now, let's just say that if it takes off, it's gonna be gooood.

Yesterday's blustery eve of tundra consisted of a long night of marathon phone chatting with The Neener, during which he attempted to turn me on to the Food Network (didn't work) and then talked me into promising myself to write this weekend (mission accomplished...and still accomplishing). I eventually fell asleep in a chatted-out daze front of the TV again last night, only to wake up to a video for a song with the chorus, "I ain't got no panties on! I ain't got no panties on!" I smiled and did a sleepy little dance to the song, turned off the telly, then went back to bed.

Winter is an invitation to hibernate, to let what falls away fade into the past and to let whatever's next at the plate germinate into strong, fresh sprouts of possibility. I feel in the thick of a heady amniotic brew this winter, moreso than in recent memory of winters past, preparing for a 2003 that could administer a hearty ass-whippin' to the whining brat of a 21st century that I've come to know with a characteristic dull dread.

This spring, hope is the new fear.

This spring, travel is the new inertia.

This spring, enthusiasm is the new "why bother".

This garden is ready to grow. For now, however, I'll patiently settle for a hot cup of chai and umpty-umpth viewings of my most indulgent DVD tendencies, snuggled deep under thick covers, as the outside world grows ever more brittle and cold.

Mmmmm.

Ahhhhhh.

That's what I'm talkin' about.

PS - This happens to be my hundredth Gadfly entry; whoo.