Bombogenesis: 6.3 times per year in the USA, twice in a month just on First Ave

Bombogenesis: because "thundersnow" has already been beaten into the ground, as is the way of things today. (I think it happened around midnight. You're already playing yourself if you say "thundersnow" — like how your eyes can't roll far enough when someone says "snowpocalypse," and you can't beat them severely enough if they say "snowmageddon.")

Seconds after the dramatic, increasingly less rare results of bombocyclogenesis

Haven't sorted out exactly how it works yet — "bombogenesis" being derived from "cyclogenesis" (naturally) and both, I think, describing the set of necessary conditions rather than the event itself. Whatfuckingever. I know it's rarer than radium, reported on average just 6.3 times per year in the whole US. I know it's said that a guy in Bucks County, PA got hit by snowlightning this evening (all in all, my guess is lightningsnow is more survivable — either way, this is less dramatic than both double-rainbow…). And I know that for the second time this winter I was walking down First Ave and I saw, then heard, lightning and thunder, while snow blasted around us. Figuring the world is dying and/or my luck is changing I bought lottery tickets immediately. On First Ave, of course. I'll cut you in, don't worry.

Pretty good snow

Big ups to the hardy farmers who made it down to Avenue A this morning, guaranteeing my next half week will be filled with good stuff to eat. That includes you, stern bread lady…


…but especially you, comedy-bickering-and-cider couple. That cider he's pouring is in me now. ("Do you feel me, cider?") Also got an acorn squash from them for no good reason, since I already have one in the fridge. Maybe I just didn't want it to be lonely?


East Village–style snowbastard. I mumbled that it looked like he needed a new cig and some lady earnestly jabbed a Pall Mall in my hand. "Some people are veryyyy kiiind…"


I cidered while watching my favorite reality show: snowfall dog run. Hounds in particular look so thoughtful. As usual, I began to imagine having one in the house, and then he opened his mouth. FOGHOOOooorn!


The real adventuring was last night, as it was coming down (and across and over). After mixing martinis and such for the first half of the night (apparently successfully), I packed a flask and headed down to Damon Dash's house to see Talk Normal. (Huh…that sentence looks just as incongruous now as it did last night.) Crosshatch winds slashed me to ribbons at every intersection, but I knew you were counting on these poorly framed point-and-shoot photographs, so with the Balvenie as guide and courage-maker…

St. Marks Church corner. You can't really see the wind-tunnel of blowing snow along the ground.

First Ave, storm hitting its stride.

Sixth Ave at 10th St.

Long shadow of the MAW, 10th St.

E 10th St between Second and Third Aves.

I asked Mr. Balvenie where this was exactly and he couldn't remember either. Manhattan, we're both convinced.

Snowstorm, meet flash.

Looking at Fifth Ave. There's a street there somewhere.

Hey Balvenie, you remember this??

This door leads nowhere but it looks nice anyway.