winter blues are in full swing lately. boise broke snowfall records that dated back to the 1950s. maybe this is all part of a grand conspiracy to end my idaho residency and migrate south. or maybe, the sierra nevada’s dire need for a healthy snow pack exceeded my preference to wear ankle boots year-round. 

by now, the “winter wonderland” has condensed to a dirty, crunchy mess. imagine solidifying los angeles valley smog and dropping it by truck-fuls into parking lots and side streets that even snow plows don’t dare venture.

the main roads are paralleled with another type of filthy snow that resembles types of grimy sea features. please, just return the arid desert landscape that my sweat glands have become accustomed to. 

because i’m tired of the icy sea foam with dark cavernous eyes that leaches all warmth from my breath and productivity from my schedule.


snow coral reefs abound.


icy drafts have literally carved snow into jagged, wind blown banks — likened to pointy rocks that sink ships ashore.


oh, elusive 40 degrees: hurry back. 

or i’m joining whatever wretched creatures reside in this frozen cave and relinquish all hope from my soul (if i had any, prior to this season anyhow). 


to live and die in l.a.,

a.

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