all embedded in ice

the city is coated in a surreal half inch of ice. it is really something else. recipe: snow all day, sleet briefly in afternoon, rain for an hour or two in the evening, and finish with a temperature drop. this may have been the most dangerous walk i've ever taken. at one point i slid helplessly toward the road where the sidewalk listed strongly. i tried to walk up to a more even part of the sidewalk, but there was simply not enough traction. i had to lean on a car and make it to the next planter to get back to level ground. i almost fell three or so times. the sensation was not unlike walking on an actual frozen lake: shoes are useless. mostly, it made me wish i was on a real lake with skates, playing hockey. or perhaps stumbling on a canal that freezes once every couple years in the netherlands, preparing to watch a race.
more than anything, the experience put dylan's isis in my head. some of the best imagery i've ever heard: we came to the pyramids, all embedded in ice. overall, one of his premier pieces in my book, judicious use of the fiddle that permeates the whole album, which i am currently enjoying. i had to earn this one, though; couldn't find the fucker for more than ten minutes. i have enough records to demand better organization. one of these days, sure that will happen. add it to the list. on the other hand, it is almost that much more rewarding to hear it when i had to put a little effort in. it's always nice when you know exactly what it is you want to hear and then you get to hear it. music has that level of personal satisfaction nothing else i know of is capable of achieving. something about it is so permanent despite the fleeting timing of the average piece. i still remember her partly feigning partly forgetting, asking me to describe it. some lyrics, some paraphrase, watching her smile grow. it didn't matter whose story it was, just that it was a story i was telling with passion and enthusiasm.
so i had that conference today. the best part about it was when i left i ran into my buddy, who set me up with my all time favorite question: how'd it go? we all know it went alright, dude's car got a little dinged up. i tried really hard to be decent, but i knew i was acting strange. the whole thing just made me so nervous, and i was so angry at her tone that my own tone was one i can affect when i so choose, one mirroring my perception of the way she approached me. not ostensibly unprofessional, yet judgmental and presuming. i nailed her on a couple things, but more importantly i got the information i needed. let me know your vision that i may regurgitate. it was the set 'em up and knock 'em down process i imagined it to be, but i learned from the knockdown. what she characterized as my misunderstandings was confirmed by various classmates as a fairly accurate if not verbatim understanding. ah well, saves her time, generalize a criticism and apply where possibly appropriate. i can't imagine anyone having attended all the classes coming in with what she expected from me. not unless there is some alternative listserve i do not receive.
whatever, flip the record, place the needle, let it ride.
when i was at the worst bar ever the other day, i let myself out for a smoke at one point. such activity rarely goes uninterrupted on cecil b, and this was no exception. the first gentleman who approached me wondered if i would be interested in taking a music survey. why not? i'm perfectly happy to skew your results, sir. the survey was not so much about music in general as it was concerned with christian hip hop, something i know little about. trying to remember what he asked, i can remember questions about my general demographic, from age to income, the general kind of stuff. he asked me how many christian hip hop record labels i could name, and that was not something i could answer with any substance. he also wanted to know how much i spend on cds. that was just as tough to answer; i haven't bought one in a while. the best part was when he showed me his label's logo, which i pretty much liked. royal flow records was the name, stylized crown design. i wondered about including some latin on part of the crest, and our minds met for the only time in the conversation. he really liked the idea, it was something he had contemplated and perhaps argued in favor of with someone else. he seemed pleased at any rate. upon the conclusion of this exchange, another man immediately approached me after witnessing my willingness to cooperate with someone holding a clipboard and a pen. this second man wanted to register me to vote, so i did. he cautioned me regarding my refusal to affiliate myself with a party, explaining it would prohibit my participation in the primaries. if a place wants me to pledge allegiance to have a say in such things, they can kiss my ass. i dislike qualifying as a specifically analyzed demographic, which is easy to avoid as a white male, and i wasn't about to hand over my privilege for this. no worries, it was his job to get people to register, and register i did. i got my confirmation phone call today. apparently this man was working for some community organization, which i do not find surprising. the confirmation had some questions beyond what i had expected, though. they wanted to know if i had my taxes taken care of. they offered to do them for free. they wanted to know if i needed my car fixed, because they would do that for free too. also, did i know anyone whose home had recently been foreclosed upon? because they would willingly assist with that too. sounds like a real top-notch organization. did i want to be a member? no. it is free, though, why not? well, it is a community organization, and i honestly don't feel embedded enough in the community to enjoy these kinds of services. whatever help i might need, there are others who need it more. mostly i'm happy to hear that some body that got people to register to vote also happened to offer assistance with the needs of the average person. very comforting, but i really wondered how it worked on the ground level. more power to them, i guess.
my sister kindly invited me to watch some of the westminster kennel club dog show at her place this evening. dog shows are a good time. the astounding variety of the dogs, the stilted uniformity of the handlers, the striking resemblance of some dogs to their handlers. one of the things that really strikes me about the whole affair is the tradition. they are on something like the 132nd year of this thing. many things in america cannot or will not reach that status, or if they do they are subject to significantly more variation than this event. on the other hand, the club seems to allow more breeds to compete every year, somewhat related to the number of registrations of certain styles. while i was watching it, for some subconscious reason, i had a horrid blink 182 song with altered lyrics running through my mind. i eschewed warped tour for dog show: "i fell in love with the girl at the dog show". there were no women at the dog show i contemplated falling in love with, however. in the immortal words of soren kierkegaard, this we cannot reflect upon.