this morning it was spring, I swear, and the world smelled like laundry and sweet and sour sauce and chlorine, but in the best possible way, and then winter came on again, like the arm of an arm wrestler that's been letting the other guy think he's actually winning for a while and I can only hope that soon the springtime arm will find his last minute inspiration (eye of the tiger not debussy) and put that big muscled gray sucker down.

and if you're thinking, didn't that girl just a couple of months ago talk about how -- even insist that -- she needed the winter? she would like to say that that was when winter had a new smell and it smelled like cotton and chimneys and anyway it was snowing then, and it only teases with snow now.

but I fully expect new york city to be dead of winter time and not thinking about spring so much, and I don't mind that because I like a city that can commit. and anyway, cold can be as cold as it pleases I don't think it holds a cloudy candle to my sunshine, who can make any weather just about the right one.