Cold Breakfasts on the Horizon

Good morning Minnesota I just wanted to thank you for the recent snow and cold you've been sending down the jet stream to Chicago. It is just as cold as had been promised. In Chicago today it is the kind of day where you look out the window and the world is trying to be as honest as possible with you. It's overcast, but you can see clearly for miles and miles until the city is lost in a wall of fog that descended in the night to steal the horizon's job. It is a clear and gray day. The hot air from buildings hangs in the air, telling a cold story in the sky, making Chicago look like a collection of wind swept gray candles that are so old that even though they are lit they no longer work right. They give off neither heat nor light, just smoke.

It's the type of day where you can see things for what they are from a long way off. It's these types of days that reveal the real glamour that adorns the mundane. Today, buildings look the way that architects should have drawn them in the first place: imposing, immovable, dead, and beautiful. Today, people's eyes, ears, hands, and foreheads take on the lack luster life of the interior. They don't "tell the story." Today they just live. And because the world around them presents us with no distraction, no luster, and no life they cannot hide their life beneath a story and they cannot tell a lie.

But now the snow is moving in and I guess that changes everything. And I heard it was 33 below zero up there today, I guess that's what we'll be having for breakfast tomorrow.