Winter Wonderland

There is something a little Lawrence Welk-ish about Pentatonix. Even when they’re not singing holiday songs. The question is never if they’re doing drugs, it’s which ones. Caffeine, definitely. Probably some booze, at least one of them has to be a boozebag. I would hope, for their sake, that there are some less proper distractions floating around their appetites, like hallucinogens and groupies. Is there such a thing as improper sexual appetite? If so…

Later on we’ll conspire.

Not now, not now, wait. We have plans that will be faced at some indefinite point in the future. But when we do, we’ll face them unafraid.

The first few flakes of a storm are falling. Soft, gentle, a little bit lost in the breeze, in the big city, unaccustomed as they are to such a dense configuration of animals and their lairs. They will kill some of us, these beautifully floating flakes. Someone will drive off a road – snowblind – and split their skull on a windshield. Someone will be stranded for a few lousy hours and will freeze to death. Someone else will be standing under a dead, overburdened branch, or an enormous icicle, and find death is waiting for them there.

Are you listening?

A beautiful sight

He’ll say: are you married?

We’ll have lots of fun

The Eskimo way

We’ll conspire

We’ll face unafraid

Fuck off, Parson Brown

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