Just like the guy who gives you facewashes when you're in elementary school, Janauary sweeps you into its bullying gaze and makes you shit your pants. This month has the veracity of a 13-year-old in a strip-club, or one of those mob bosses who wear checkered vests. When a primate descended from the tree, the primate did not expect January to be just around the corner. Or maybe it did and that's why it left in the first place. There's that moment of awe, when the artic farts and I'm gurgling its white powder for a few hours before it settles over top the grass and junkies who've recently died. It covers for those who leave behind tracks. In a sense, paper trails. You can't run a business like January without business papers.
"And what do you do sir?"
"I'm unemployed."
I guess you may be wondering why I'm talking about January in this hateful manner. . . I don't in fact hate January, even with its caustic weather. Weather is just weather, and it basically allows the world to talk to each other. As the environment turns, we need to qualify the weather with paper trail documents, stating how it changes over time. There's a reason why there isn't any proof -- the people who are victimized seldom get out of their own ruts and make a go of it. The people who're changing the environment, changing January, obviously don't want a proper paper trail. January used to be different. It used to warm up the Eskimos. . .
Posted by matty-b at January 9, 2005 4:48 PM