Intersections

I once told you that at -40 the readings for celsius and fahrenheit are the same. We've been dancing dangerously close to this intersection for the past two weeks. Bomber hats and long johns and hunting socks dominate my landscape.

At -32, however, one hits another crossroad. Here, one finds Chinese bubble tea and Gay French communists.

Chinatown, on Saturday. The numbers are all there: 32 below, ten to four. I share bubble tea with two redheads and a Groucho Marx look alike and a beet connoisseur. And the tapioca pudding balls in the bottom of the tea come rumbling up the straw (cushioned with cocunut or almond or mango tea). And the effect, like an animation on a Mr. Goodbody special on digestion, is startlingly corporal--the straw becoming part of the body, and the pudding a member of some process.

The office, on Monday. 32 below outside; unheated inside. The electrical panel on the fritz for the past two weeks. I need gloves to type. Didier comes in to archive films and we discuss the strange effect of self-censorship in artists and cultural organizations. Change to please, change to receive a grant. They probably don't even recognize they're doing it at a certain point. And that's terrifying. True, one leaves talking a bit like a communist after having been in dialogue with one, but it illuminates the problems I've noticed with the organization. How exactly does one make that shift from anarchial movement to cultural office? We're both a bit disappointed, Didier and I, with the rules and regulations and formats that have taken hold of this once very playful collective.

Hitting lows like -32 and -40 may convince some that global warming is not an issue. That's tomfoolery, I'd say. But this is just a segway into what I want to say. The French organization Alliance pour la Planète has encouraged people around the world to turn of all electricity for five minutes, between 7:55 and 8:00 p.m. on Thursday, February 1st. I think this is pretty rad. So, I'll participate. I've been working eight hours without heat anyway; I think I can survive five minutes in the dark.