Sunday, May 1, 2011


Mayday. Of course this is the Sunday that you hope to be frolicking with the freaks in Powderhorn park, wearing a ridiculous hat or a feather boa, and daytime drinking and smoking and kissing and whatever else you can get away with in broad daylight in the park under the sun and in full view of kiddies and dogs and grandmas.

But, like most of the days before this one, for the past, what, six months? It's cold, it's windy, it's grey. At least its not raining or snowing. Yet. This past winter was the worst Minnesota winters on record, and certainly the worst in my memory. Snowstorms dumped on us, weekly, daily? Serious ones too. The kind that shut you in, bury your car, and make you think of hibernation, of booze and of prozac. And yet, I not only endured this winter, I rallied in it. Having a car around Loring park was useless-- snow emergencies made the already Seussian parking situation downright impossible, so I grounded the lemon drop for the winter and I hoofed it. All. Fucking. Winter. It was the best thing I could have done for myself in these circumstances. Everywhere I needed to go, I walked there. I averaged about 30 miles per week. I dropped ten pounds almost instantly, I got daylight every day, I got fresh air. I wore snowpants everywhere I went, generally not even bothering to shed them when I arrived at my destination, because, why? When it's twenty below and the snowbanks are literally above your shoulders, fashion becomes an afterthought. In fact, this was my fucking fashion statement, man. Those snowpants, and a stocking hat that rendered hair styling (and washing) a thing of the past.

I strangely liked this winter. I spent much of it with a nice man I had met who spent most of his adult life in NYC, and he wasn't so much for the Twin Cities. I spent the winter playing Julie the Cruise Director of Minneapolis, taking it upon myself to exhibit all of the reasons he should love my hometown. I made him put on boots and trudge through snowstorms on impromptu bar crawls. We did strip clubs and countless decadent meals. We rode bikes in the brief interludes between rain and snowstorms. We had an awful lot of sex. It's been a good winter.

But now, on the first day of May, and it seems that winter still, still, still has no intention of loosening it's grip. The trees outside of my window have been trying so hard to release their buds. But with extremely limited sunshine and only fitful, dissatisfying spits of cold rain, things are reluctant to sprout. Myself included. When you wake up to yet another day like this one, it can be easy to roll over, pull the covers overhead, and stay.

This morning I had a notion to up my trip. I'm having a hard time rallying at this moment. I know I'm not alone, and I feel like a bad, whiny Minnesotan right now, but really, it's just not natural to go this long without your shoulders growing hot from the delight of sunbeams. It makes me want to cry, just the memory of it.

I don't think I'll up my trip, though. I want more face time with Chela, with HG, with my little apartment, which, despite the copious amount of time I've spent here this winter, I've grown to love. I've really settled into it during this crazy, delicious, heartbreaking year. And, before I go, I want those buds outside my window to be heavy branches lush with reassuring life.

*One sidenote: if I've invited you to peek in here, please note that I'm not intending to spend much time proofreading, editing or correcting here. This is more a place for brain dump, for stream of consciousness, and for observing my life which tends to go by at breakneck speed. So, if you look in, I apologize in advance for any poor use of the English language, but that's the way it's going to be, for now. 

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