march 14, 2001. dear dirk, I spent most of the day inside today, as I'm trying to work through the massive glut of end-of-semester assignments without a) losing too much sleep or b) going bug fuck. Consequently I was surprised as hell that there was a gorgeous day waiting for out there me on my walk to night class. It was sunny, warm & deliciously breezy; perfect margarita weather if there ever was such a thing. And I was blissful. There's something about late winter that's even better than real spring, because every warm moment feels like a blessing that might be taken away by a capricious deity. (Well, that and the fact that the ground hasn't entered its annual rot-and-stink-out-the-world period. There's nothing like the ever-present smell of shit to make one tired of spring in a hurry.) Yesterday the wind screamed in the eaves and threatened to tear the whole place apart. Today the sky was full of smiles. And today I started to understand on a deep and personal level why so many northern cultures have a god in charge of spring. love, a "the wind round here gets wicked cold but my story is nearly told I fear morning will bring quite a frost..." - nick cave "You know, where I come from, we get six months of snow and ice, six months of mud and mosquitos. In midwinter the sun rises at noon, sets an hour or so later. There's never any certainty that the sun will ever come back. Someone could just stick a sharpened sprig of mistletoe through its heart and, well, game over. Winter darkness forever." - loki, from neil gaiman's the wake