30 DoP #20 - "Shiver"

Blue Neck Warmer

The birds are all gone, the sky low and slate grey. The skyline of Chicago even matches with its concrete and glass edifices staring blankly over a frozen lake, little gasps of steam sighing out while we anxiously await the end to the ennui of winter. Even the daytime hookers in Boystown are nowhere to be found. And now we hear that the "snowmageddon" has turned its chapped face toward us. Two feet of new snow in the next 48 hours, and it's not powdery Aspen snow - it's Chicago snow. It's wet, huge flakes mixed with sharp needles of ice assaulting the face, loamy frost accumulating against every urban surface, angry precipitation. No amount of deep dish pizza or kielbasa can warm those of us who have chosen to live half our lives shrouded in armor against the cold - bulky pea coats, boots like hooves, cashmere scarves, those freaky little Hannibal Lector face masks hipster bike messengers love. Everyone looks like an overcooked baked potato. Fashion dies in this season, and I mourn it.

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