Cold here. Cold and damp.
Everything stopped, a week ago. It got really quiet

It's easy to forget that every day is a new day.
Another day. Another chance to make an entrance.

Cold. I don't say that very much. Don't encounter it much. I was trying to explain to someone, the cosmic pivot between what makes things hot or cold. Can everything be reduced to one or the other of the two. Hot. It's how you describe a firearm that has a live round in it. When working with electricity a hot conductor - is just what it sounds like. It's live. Like a body. When I want the plaster I mix to set up faster, I use accelerants. Mix them in. It's called hot mud. Things that are hot are things that are ready to give up their heat. Physics man.

Cold is an altogether different thing. An unconscionable deed. That's cold. A handgun. Is cold. They always are. I once had a Super Black Leatherman. When those multi-tools were first breaking out. No longer just confined to film technicians. I had this bad-ass black one. It came with a black cordura belt pouch. A camera assistant I was working with remarked as soon as I took it out on set. He was a black guy from D.C. Very cool. Damn that's cold, he said admiring the black ninja tool.

Salesmen know hot and cold. They know it real good. Everyone knows it. My hands are cold right now. Sex is hot. Death is cold.