Saturday, January 14, 2012
Trial by frozen pipe is always to be expected at this time of the year. I would like to think of it as an existential matter and as such an opportunity to become soothed by the nature of being. But when it happens something else takes over. A mind becomes intoxicated by "perhaps if I had a blow torch," and it wriggles around in the attic feeling for cold spots while it considers the origin of miracles.
I could try to understand it as a consequence of being caught poaching. I could see myself in the court room asking who the jury might be. Among the faces I could see representatives from the insulation industry and conglomerates that own hardware stores. And I could wonder if there might ever be a time when I could reckon upon a fair trial.