Freezing My Ass Off In Arkansas

A troubling stillness invades the state, a calm before the storm, an all too familiar feeling of trappings and imprisonments, the sense of feeling engulfed by a white canvas permeating through the air, permeating through everything, through the trees, the green pastures splayed across the countryside, Arkansas in the wintertime, the snowfall, which seems to frighten the adults of the country, who forget their boots once stood in these same ivory winds, years ago, when they were children, when snow on the ground initiated the conquering of a number of fantastic feats, school closing, the most esteemed of among all of the virtues, the playing in the snowy pastures, snowmen, the feeling of cartoons all day, frosty the snowman, where people on the West coast dream of winters these white, the land in which they are haunted by unforgiving sun all day, a journey into the night dictates a sleepy feeling, of never desiring to wake up, a permanent wanting-to-sleep-in-bed all day, curled next to the warmth of heating systems, fireplaces, and heavy coats, often in the form of trench, which are necessary garments if one dares to leave home in search of the white abyss, the roads impossible, all colors distorted, nothing in sight…

…but white white white and then when one has became acquainted with these harsh surroundings, or rather, serene ones, one is apt to witness the falling of another downpour of snow, in soft whispers that seem to fall not only the ears, but on the hands, mouths, and all other fleshy parts of the human anatomy, whatever is left exposed to the gods of weather, mercies called upon them in the form of prayer, but these prayers differentiate from person to person, whereas children wish for more snowy days to keep the good fight going of not having school, the adults wish and pray for knowledge of what to do, because, ecstatic to have work off for once, their restless spirits cause them to want the ability to flee, the ability to position themselves in the never ending warp of the road, the pure feeling of driving, the hand on the wheel on the countryside Arkansas roads, the misery of too much family time rising up in them, freedom to travel and get lost in the winds of clearer days, an overall impulse to persist in the common manner of things and free themselves from the chains of boredom.


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