Shattered Nerves, Itchy Skin & Dirty Words

Sometimes a single moment can summarize a entire day.

Stepping out for lunch this afternoon, I was slammed in the face by a bone-rattling blast of Arctic air. Times Square was choked with tourists, all racing face-down and oblivious towards their no doubt warmer destination.

The Christmas tree in the lobby has been dismatled. The lights in the window have been wound. The garland has been set to the curb.

The pavement was bleached from salt and slush. The sky was battleship gray. The sun was low on the horizon. And all around me, New Year’s confetti swirled like dead leaves in a frigid whirlwind.

Duane Reade has already moved onto Valentine’s Day.

I hate this time of year.

It’s time to get back to work.

All I wanna’ do, though, is… well, anything warmer, sunnier, and more meaningful than this. All I wanna’ do is sing, write, and make art all day long.

That or sit on a beach sipping umbrella drinks with my wife.