inspiration strikes - a break from the monotony

Friday, February 21, 2003

INDULGING YOUR VOYEURISTIC TENDENCIES

What is a blog if not a safe and healthy indulgence in pseudo-voyeurism? Believe it or not, I've been posting on I/S for about five months now. If you're among my regular readers (I suppose that should almost say, "if you're my regular reader") then you've read varying posts, including mundane anecdotes, songs I've written, childhood memories, porn star names, etc.

That said, is there something that you're curious to know about me? Favorite food? College major? Ask away. It'll be Matt's version of the mailbag. Assuming the questions aren't too personal, I'll compile the answers and post them sometime soon.
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mattchun 2/21/2003 01:47:00 PM [+] ::
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SNOW

As the city of Boston continues to dig out from under its cool blanket of snow, my day to day existence continues with some perturbation. With many cars still buried under large drifts, bustling masses of people have taken to the subway, jockeying for position on the slow-moving Green Line of the MBTA. The upshot is that I spend my morning commute jostled by a swarm of winter clothing-clad workers. The hub's parka proletariat.

Plows and dumptrucks continue to roam the streets, clearing the mountainous mounds that line the alleys and thoroughfares before Mother Nature has a chance to strike again. Still, the sidewalks are frosted with packed white-turning-gray snow and one must step gingerly. The walk from subway to office, once a casual stroll, is now a treacherous tango, my satchel both balance and dancing partner.

In spite of the now tedious nature that typifies my brief morning travels I am happy to have the snow. On the night of the President's Day blizzard I ventured into the swirling maelstrom with two friends. We patrolled the streets of the Back Bay and Kenmore Square, hitting street signs with snowballs and sliding down the sidewalks. The occasional chunky snow angel made our acquaintance as we marched, high stepping through the quietly settling powder. As we surveyed the ivory scene, I felt like a kid again.

There's something about a bountiful snowfall that reminds me of childhood; it's an easy comparison to the snowy winters of my youth, when the snow was cold and deep. Growing up, my house had a long arching driveway that opened to the street on two ends. During clement weather, it was the perfect track for bikes and rollerskates and skateboards. In the wintertime, it was one-hundred-fifty feet of road to clear after heavy snowstorms.

After particularly heavy snows, my father would fire up our small tractor/snow blower to start clearing the way. This was the cue for my brother Paul and I, wee lads, to don our hats and boots, mittens scarves and snowsuits. Appropriately armored, we'd scamper out into the snow.

We had a game we'd play. As dad drove around, the snow blower hurtling powder this way and that, Paul and I would scurry past and dive into drifts ahead of the machine-flung snow. My father would turn the jets of the blower toward us, and hands over head we'd be gently buffeted by the snow, a wintery pat on the back from dad. Fully dusted, we'd shake the snow from our coats like sled dogs and scamper ahead again. After a few rounds of scurry-dive-pat, I'd lie still, cocooned by the freshly fallen quilt. Ensconced by cool comfort, I'd listen to the rumbling of the passing tractor and relax to the sounds of my deepening breath.

Once the long expanse of our driveway was cleared, the tractor in the garage, we'd return to the warmth of the hearth. Shaking the clinging snow from our varied vestments we'd dump them en masse on the radiators throughout the house. After a mug of cocoa, tousle-haired and content, it was time for a nap.

Outside the office, there is arctic terrain to spare and I'm ready for a romp in the snow, hot chocolate and a nap. This most recent snowfall was impressive. The drifts are high and the snow is cold and deep. Even so, it will be some time before I see a storm that matches my memory and the blizzards of my youth.
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mattchun 2/20/2003 10:09:00 AM [+] ::
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THE BLIZZARD OF '03

Twenty-seven-and-a-half inches of snow in Boston.
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mattchun 2/18/2003 10:15:00 AM [+] ::
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INSIDE THE TEMPEST, WAITING FOR THE SUN

The tempest blows the ice and snow, whither where and to and fro,
the ebb and flow a dazzling show that floats white sequins high and low,
and from my perch i watch it go as up and down it doesn't slow,
the gale, it grows with flakes in tow and blankets all the world.

Caressing, cold, the storm unfolds its brightness blinds both young and old
as growing bold its icy hold with tight'ning grip it chills the soul.
Descending and upending cold, it freezes every word untold
'til streaks of gold break winter's mold, Apollo's flag unfurled.
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mattchun 2/17/2003 04:01:00 PM [+] ::
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MISCELLANEOUS THINGS I RECENTLY LEARNED OR WAS REMINDED OF:

Don't forget your hat when it's c-c-c-cold in Boston. Lucky's has good drinks and good music. If you're alert, you can save money on the dryers in my apartment by "topping them off." Matching socks is the most tedious part of laundry. The combination of wine, food and friends seldom goes awry. Tequila Saturdays make for slow-starting Sundays. John C. Reilly can flat out act and Jennifer Aniston can too. Holidays don't always equate to days off. I like orange fruits more than orange alerts.
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mattchun 2/16/2003 11:59:00 PM [+] ::
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