Journal

25 Below Zero

when it’s this cold it hurts to breathe. you see people out jogging and wonder if you’re a wimp or just witnessing natural selection in the twenty-first century. it’s not some nice romantic jack frost nipping at your nose cold….it’s more like an invisible devil that settles in for a spell and dares you to come outside so he can shoot you with wind bullets that polar carharts can’t touch.

cars turn slow and moan in disgust every morning. i drive old cars that wish i would come to my senses and head south. my cats wish the same. i think bears got it right this time of year. down in a hole sleeping until spring.

been hibernating in the studio lately. one album is turning into two…mining deeper shades of blue. but most days are just grey/gray and the streets are dirty with salt and grit and that other winter road shit. i suppose there is a subtle beauty in there somewhere. i used to think so.

think this is my last winter in iowa…


“25 below zero and my car will not start”
- joe price

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