Happy winter, Solid State! (Now there's an oxymoron if ever there was one.)
It's funny how the first real snowfall of the year — though today may not exactly qualify — elicits such a wide variety of responses. Depending on your predisposition to cold weather, it's either a tasty gnar appetizer of pow-pow shredding to come or an abysmal portent of impending doom.
I'm afraid I fall on the latter end of the spectrum. I don't ski. I don't snowboard. The thought of snowshoeing makes me want to gouge my eyeballs out — or worse, someone else's. For me, winter is an exercise in endurance. How long can I stand the monotony of dark, dreary days, bone-rattling cold, icy sidewalks and the smug looks on the faces of sadistic snow bunnies who actually enjoy this shit, before I start turning into Jack Torrence from The Shining? But maybe I'm just being melodramatic.
Earlier today while standing outside the office, a co-worker marveled at the falling snow and cheerily proclaimed, "It's winter!" I was actually OK with this morning's snowfall, surprisingly enough — it ususally takes until mid-January for the real malaise to set in. But that's when it hit me. Though it may feel and look like it, it is not, in fact, winter. It's really still fall. Truth be told, by this time three or four months from now — or five, when it's "spring" — a thirty degree day with light snow showers will feel like sweet relief. It'll be downright tropical by comparison. So we've got that going for us, which is nice.
If you're sensitive to cold as I am, it is important to fight back as best you can. The longer you hold on before giving in, the shorter winter will seem. And that fight can take many forms. For some, it means not breaking out the winter coat until after Christmas — gotta toughen up! For others, it means finding alternate means of entertainment — bowling, a reinvestment in reading, whiskey . . . sweet, sweet whiskey. But the most important thing — self-delusional fixes aside — is to remain lighthearted. Can't stress that enough.
So with levity in mind, I present to you, the soon-to-be snowbound denizens of Solid State, a collection of clips from The Found Footage Festival this Thursday at the Roxy. These clips are all real and have been collected over more than two decades — you can read more about the film in my column tomorrow or here.
So buck up, campers. Only 122 days until spring.