Some Things About Winter, 2012
SOME THINGS ABOUT WINTER.
Here are some things we do in winter. We wear thick jumpers and snuggle into each other next to the fire. Everyone does this in winter, except people who don't have jumpers, or fires, or other people. Another thing we do in winter is eat soup. Everyone does this, too, except people who don't have soup and Andy Warhol. This is partly because he is dead and partly because for several years in the sixties he ate nothing but soup. If you were Andy Warhol you wouldn't eat soup any more, either. If you were dead you wouldn't eat anything, but especially not soup. Dead people hate soup.
Dead people also hate these things: the colour yellow; trance music; being reminded that they are dead.
In winter, when our breath is like smoke, we are really breathing the dead. They creep into the warmth of our mouths and we breathe them in and out like a bellows. When we kiss in winter we are mingling our ghosts. If you were dead, you would live inside my mouth, except when I eat soup.
If you were dead I'd never remind you that you were dead. I'd be very careful about that. Obviously, the trance music wouldn't pose a problem, but what about pumpkin soup with cream? I guess there'd have to be some give-and-take, on your part, too, if you were dead and lived inside my mouth.
Here's something I was wondering. If I drank wine (red, not white, because white wine is yellowish really and I'd be careful about that kind of thing) would you get drunk too? Who would you try to kiss then? I'd like to know.
Of course, it could be the other way round -- it could be me dead, and your mouth -- but I hope not. I hate the taste of cigarettes. If you took a drag on a cigarette (and you would, even though you know I can't stand the taste), smoke would fill your mouth and I'd melt into it and you'd breathe me out with the smoke, right out of you forever, like an exorcism. Do you know something? I bet you wouldn't even notice.
Maybe, after all, I wouldn't be so careful, if you were dead. Maybe I'd wear a yellow jumper. Maybe I'd get into trance music. Eat soup. Why shouldn't I eat soup? You know, there's another thing dead people hate: living people who know what they're up to. Maybe if you were dead I'd keep my mouth closed, especially in winter. Maybe I'd stop speaking altogether, just in case you were trying to sneak in.