Frigid cold begets frigid fingers, rustling papers dryly, miserably. Wind chills are achingly numbing, painful and unrelenting.
A gift received recently was a coffee shop card from someone just stopping by for a Chicago Tribune. It was awfully decent of her - the five bucks bought me three coffees.
I gave one of those coffees to my friend Jimmy who stood shivering while telling me all his latest adventures. He makes up some of his adventures, but some are truer than the true ones, so it all gets hard to sort out. He's not quite what I'd call an honest man, but he is loyal and truthful about the important things.
There's a massive story that is not talked about enough. Bobby Fischer is now arguing chess position with the chess master Himself. No longer is it a cake walk for Bobby. He's dead.