My fingers are cut up from the cold. It’s zero. There is snow in the trunk of the Black Pill that’s not going anywhere, been there for two weeks. Yesterday I did my usual drive up 95, turning around right before the tollbooth. Endless miles of collapsing pines. Entire bays frozen shut and then snowed upon. You’d have no way of knowing they weren’t a big snowy field until you walked out there and fell through the ice and got trapped and died. Being caught underwater and unable to bust through to the surface one of my Serious Fears thanks to an unfortunate incident with a pool raft one time when I was wee.

(KF mentioning this Maine island where you’re cut off from the mainland for a few weeks each winter. That would work. Stocking up on supplies. The sky remote, desolate. Windows cracking. Warm orange glow of houselights at dusk, surrounded by arid blue winter — my absolute favorite thing. I have a good picture here that I can’t show you but demonstrates exactly what I’m talking about. Why is my medium of choice so inadequate. Etc.)

I love it, love it love it. My body is suited to being covered up by big heavy clothes. I keep my giant coat on even in the house because I love being lost inside it. Everyone trapped inside, looking for new card games.

Yeah I’m talking about the weather. It’s not like you’re saying anything so super interesting either you blackguard.