You devoted readers of my "weblog" may know that if I am nothing else, which I am not, is that I am very humble. To whit, sometimes when great forces of great power decide to fuck with me, I must accept with grace the fact that I lack the power, dexterity and likability index to in order to make these forces find out. Although, it must be typed, however, I did once make
a mighty man and his son find out. But still I must have to accept things sometimes, like a Zen Boodist or a squirrel who can no longer climb trees because I have trapped it in a makeshift cage fashioned from a laundry basket, razor wire and a nice stick. However as that may be, there is one great force that is a temperature, and it is fucking with me so bad that I fear I must try to make it find out. Go to the next paragraph.
This is all a long way of saying something that is short. Here is that thing. It is very cold in Queens. So cold that I am made glad with the fact that one of my balls was removed as a child, otherwise I would likely be freezing them off. My apartment has been frigid and stiff for the last week, and the frost bites and hypothermias that I have received from the cold have caused me to be in pain and delirious, which affected my behavior at work, where I am not currently permitted to be, due to behaviors related to the delirium located earlier in this sentence. I considered consulting my landlord to ask him to fix the heat in my apartment, until I realized that he is not aware of my residence, and also, furthermore I do not live in his building, but rather beside it in a crude lean-to. I decided in the end that the cold had fucked with me so bad, that despite its omni presents and my great humbleness, I had no choice but to make the fucker find out.
Here is what my plan was. I realized that the enemy of cold is hotness. And the hottest thing that I could think of (that is, besides a National Geographic photo shoot, that is! Gimme five! Yeah!) was fire. Hot, fiery fire. I sat my sights on the tallest building in all of Queens. The City Bank Building. Monday morning, I went into the building dressed as a City Banker in a suit and tie, carrying a handsome briefcase in one hand, hoping to distract and law enforcers from the gasoline cans and C-4 I rolled in a dolly with the other hand. I was wrong, as it turns out, to assume that this plan would be efficacious. Instead, it was unefficacious. I was escorted out of the building by many securitys and was greeted outside in the cold by a large clustering of New York's Finist. They put me in their cop car with handcuffs on my hands, but fortunately I was able to break away through my unique ability to shatter my own bones, and I escaped their clutchings.
The next day was even worse, with my hypothermic shock being compounded by regular shock that I usually get when i sustain massive bone damage. Also there was gangrene. But I didn't let that get me down because I am a forceful person who never says quit, at least in the first person. I got new inspiration when I saw on the outside of a local newspaper that Al Gore was going to be on Manhattan island doing a speaking job.
This fellow Al Gore dislikes something called "Global Warm." Well, I like to be warm, and who doesn't apart from Arnold Shwarsandegger in the awesome movie Batman and Robin? I figured Al Gore must be getting payed off by Cold. I figured that if I made him find out, he would transmit his dis pleasure to Cold, thus counting as Cold finding out. I hatched an elaborate and sexy plan to confront this man who had helped a fucker. It was so brilliant, so dastardly and outside of a box that I drank paint thinner to celebrate and forgot what the plan was. So I went with an old standby, but unfortunately due to numbness and my shattered wrists, my aim was compromised, and my feces missed Mister Gore. Even worse, it splattered all over someone who I like, his wife, who helped children like me in the 1980's not have to listen to rock music (I preferred, and continue to prefer, endless loops of calliope carousel music played at ear-shattering volume). Seeing her covered in my poo made me sad, as I could not help but feel partly responsible.
I began to walk back to Queens, and then something happened. The happening was an elderly man who was very poor saw me and observed that I was in distress. He said "we poor folks have to look out for each other." He took me back to his apartment where it was also very cold like my lean-to. He said they had turned off his heat beacuse he was so poor, but that he had some blankets I could bundle up in, and he could make me some tea and he had some bread I could snack on. I sat there under a blanket, while this man saw right through the blood and feces and into my soul, cleaning me and giving me food. And I thought "I think that there's a special kind of warmth, a the warmth of companion ship, that we are showing to the cold right now. And the cold can never defeat that. And maybe the warmth of companion ship is enough."
Then I decided that no, it was not, and I sliced open the man's body and enjoyed a good night's sleep resting in his steaming entrails.
As they say in the end of chess: "Check point."
