Snow forces a choice

exercise or hibernate

if bear, choose second

Is David Byrne a time traveler? I always felt a certain prophetic quality to this song, and now it just sounds... imminent.

I would give all my earthly possessions and ethereal financial assets for a trip in a time machine to see this show, even with back-row seats.

Or even better yet, this one (keep scrolling, more text beyond...):

Yeah, man, I'm in a New York (FUCKIN'!) City frame of mind again. Same intensity, totally different wavelength of energy. Sailors and surfers know what I'm sayin'. Like, you were in 20-30 knot variable air with 3'-swells coming every 2-3 seconds or in a steady 15-knot breeze on a beam reach with 8' swells coming every ten seconds. Same amount of energy but totally different wavelengths, loik, literalllly, deeewd.

When the big snow first flew, I got up early and took my trusty Nordic skis out before anyone had shoveled or plowed.

I didn't ski in the park.

I skiied to the park.

I skiied around the park.

I ski like I live.

In the evening today,

at the tail end of the two-day storm,

I took a walk.

A walk in the snow is an expedition.

Every block walked, a new mountain

of chunked icy slush,

a new perilous pass to negotiate.

I reckon you burn at least triple the calories

of the same walk in the sexy summer sun.

sigh, that sun...

If I were a perfectly designed,

non-genetically modified bear,

I'd just save the energy and hibernate.

Basically let my physical form die a while

and retreat to the realm of dreams

wonderful bear dreams of decomposing salmon

desperately swimming upstream to die.

Then I'd wake up, and pull salmon

out of the river like they grew on trees.

But I'm not a bear.

I'm a salty-snack-imbibing human.

I need to move

so I will ski and shovel and trudge

until the sun (sigh, that sun) signals

spring bloom.

I may have just barely missed the peak of the Talking Heads, but I was there for this. If there were a world record for mosh pits, Janes Addiction concerts would have held it for all eternity. I've seen lots of big moshing bands -- Black Flag, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Meatpuppets, a bunch you haven't heard of -- but nobody ever got so many sweaty bodies flying around in wild, dangerous, scary, incredibly exilherating ways. This video doesn't even begin to capture it. California-boy frontman Perry Ferrell is originally from Bayside, NY, where I am right now.

Ah heck, who needs a time machine when you've got unmodified DNA memory and life.