Some Dime-Store Hooker…

So … I’ve made it to the end of another semester. Yet another semester?

It snowed today. Snowed inches and inches … doing its damnedest to suffuse Bozeman in a while blanket of peace and quiet. A Christmas miracle, really–every time it snows, it’s a Christmas miracle. But it wasn’t! We pushed it off! We, with our cars, trucks, Suburbans … we braved the cold. We ran our heaters, our windshield wipers. Off! Off damned white blanket! Off, damned white redemption!

Bombarded by the heavens, we retreated to the safety and comfort of the things that bring us solace–that define our lifestyle, as Americans. We flooded into Barnes and Noble. We trampled the snow at Northern Lights and Hastings and Target and Wal-Mart with our Hummer H2’s, our Honda Civics–smashed it down! Crushed it, and rushed inside, to find solace in the storm with our compatriots. Our compatriots in the aisles … at the check-stands.

…

That’s not what I want to write, at all…

Sparknotes: Fuck Christmas.

…

No, what I meant to write was …

I turned on the fireplace, and settled in with a movie … the snow blissfully falling outside, obscuring in a soft haze Pete’s Hill, the mountains beyond. Inches and inches of fresh, falling snow.

But I didn’t want to settle down to a movie … no. I didn’t want to be inside… Thoughts alighted on something passed … passed, but still I wished for someone to go outside with and make sure Pete’s Hill was still there, just obscured behind a white blanket. Someone to make sure gravity still has its pull–that snow still cushions those who fall and tumble in it… that it still muffles cries of amusement, of surprise…

I’m not comfortable with these thoughts.

(Edit: Gee, that sounds really dramatic … and mysterious. Is he pining for a lost lover? Is he just being melodramatic? Is he high?)

…

Gomez sings, I stopped trying to write the things I’d like / and I started going back to where I’d been before … She said I don’t blame you / I’d do the same / Opportunity knock knock knocks / Open the door. / But I think she saw through it / I see through myself / another chance gone / won’t get many more…

The lyrics are completely unrelated … but they resonate.

…

Three-point-seven-five. For the semester. One “B”, one “A-“, a few “A”s and a “Pass”.

Strangely … I’m proud of that “B”. I’m prouder than I’ve ever been of a grade before. Why? … Perhaps it’s because … it’s the first grade I think I’ve ever worked for. I’m more proud of that “B” than any “A” from this semester–or the last, or …

I feel like saying something trite. Something like: “I’d rather work for a B than skate through to an A.” That’s trite, right?

…

huh. Time to clean the house. I leave for Cheyenne tomorrow–roads (snow) willing. I mean … fuck that snow-white-happy-redemption bullshit. I have to travel tomorrow. I have to shop. I have to … live my life in defiance of the natural world. That’s my birthright, as an America. The right to live my life in defiance of the world. (Insert vapid and superficial political rant, here.)