3B
Wednesday, January 17, 2018 // The Statement 

Soundtracking: The weather’s mood swings

I

f there’s one thing I’m reasonably 
good at — and the list of things I 
can do is pretty low these days — 

it’s small talk about the weather.

You wanna talk about a movie you 

saw last week? Sure. Wanna ask how my 
day was? Something awkward probably 
happened but I’ll tell you everything 
anyway. Wanna talk about the weather?

Fuck yes.
I love talking about the weather. 

Nothing gets me more jazzed, more 
stoked or more psyched than the weather 
because you can bring it up anytime and 
someone will always have something 
to say. You’ll never cut anyone out. It’s a 
universal issue … Well, it’s not actually 
universal because microbes on other 
planets have different weather patterns to 
talk about, but it’s a saying so hop off your 
soapbox and chill out. It’s just the weather.

Here’s an actual conversation I had 

the other day. Very pleasant, would rate 
it seven out of 10 in terms of personal 
fulfillment.

“Hey.”
“Hey! Man, this weather is wild! Like, 

make up your mind, planet!”

“Yeah for sure. Catch you later.”
Easy 
peasy, 
lemon 
squeezy. 
No 

bullshit, just talking about the weather. 
That’s all you need. Like the other day …

“One Fine Day” — The Chiffons
I had gotten used to piling on layers of 

clothes in the morning assuming it was 
just as freezing as the day before. That’s 
a pretty fair assumption in Ann Arbor. 
Once it starts snowing, you’re pretty 
much a Popsicle until spring. Don’t get 
me wrong, I love snow. But if it’s cold 
and it’s not snowing, there’s no point 
to it being so cold. Just give us some 
snow to awe at and put on Snapchat as 
if everyone else can’t just look out the 
window and see the exact same thing. 
But one day, I popped on jeans, tall 
socks, boots, an undershirt, a flannel, 
a crewneck and then a coat featuring a 
lovely accent of a beanie and gloves. I 
was ready for whatever Earth wanted to 
throw my way …

Except heat. Fifty degrees blindsided 

me like that Sandra Bullock movie 
about football.

The moment I stepped outside, I 

noticed the sun was actually shining 
and a lovely warmth was brushing my 
cheeks. I braced myself for nothing. I ran 
back upstairs and changed, definitely 
securing my tardiness to lecture but who 
cares? It’s summer again!

“Pool Boyz” — Diet Cig
“I just wanna get cool / Let’s go 

swimming in a swimming pool”

I don’t think there was anyone not 

talking about the weather that day. It 
warmed my heart. I walked down State 
Street, eavesdropping because I’m an 

invasive piece of shit, and all I heard 
was people marveling at the weather. No 
one was excluded from the conversation. 
The campus was united over the Earth’s 
mood swings.

We had just come out of what felt 

like an eternal winter. The gray skies 
felt ingrained in my vision but now, I 
looked up and saw nothing but beautiful, 
striking blue. Later that day, the sunset 
turned the sky a lovely shade of pink and 
purple. Pure bliss.

“Pineapple Skies” — Miguel
“There’s pineapple purple skies / 

Promise everything gon’ be alright”

The weather was perfect. I was 

perfectly comfortable with a light jacket 

and Hawaiian shirt with a huge hole on 
the front. Usually, if I want to suffer for 
fashion, that one bit where my bare 
skin hits the cold air freezes into an 
ice cube. Fashion is pain and I will 
never change my self-destructive and 
inconvenient ways.

That day, I was content.
I got home that night, lay down in bed 

and was thrilled to see what tomorrow 
would bring.

Pause on the narrative real quick. 

Weather 
apps 
are 
single-handedly 

dismantling our society’s small talk and 
they should be thrown out the window 
as a crime against our social system. 

Hot take, I know, but it’s the truth. If 
you know what the weather is going to 
be like tomorrow, there’s no mystery in a 
conversation. There’s no end result. You 
just know immediately. If I ask someone 
“What do you think the weather’s gonna 
be like?” and I see them reach into their 
pocket to check, I know my entire small 
talk conversation is ruined. Where has 
the joy gone in just guessing and waiting 
to see if your gamble on Earth’s weather 
patterns for the day is correct?

We could never have a casino of 

just predicting what the weather is. 
Technology has ruined that viable 
market and I will never forgive it.

Back to the weather, I woke up the 

next day ready to see if our warm streak 
was about to officially begin.

Think again.
“Cold Cold Heart” — Norah Jones
I was not prepared to jump back to 

where we were two days ago. The Earth 
had given me a taste of what could be and 
I got greedy. Icarus had flown too close 
to the Sun and was cast into the cold 
water below. Honestly, it was just a little 
rude on the Earth’s part. Who do you 
think you are?

I stuck my hand out the window, 

expecting a pleasant brush of heat but 
instead was smacked across the face 
with a cold breeze. I guess I should have 

expected it. In the wise words of that 
one Robert Frost poem that people only 
know from “The Outsiders”: “nothing 
gold can stay.”

I threw on my Target-brand navy-

blue peacoat that I’ve had since 
freshman year of high school. It has 
failed me many times but I was hopeful 
that I could conserve body heat on my 
way to class.

Fuck hope.
“Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad” 

— Prince

You betrayed me, peacoat and I will 

never forgive you … until I ultimately 
forget and don you another day.

I went about my day, freezing in my coat 

but it takes a lot to be a fashion icon like 
myself. I was taking the Commuter South 
bus route from North Campus, trying to 
concentrate on the music blaring from 
my earbuds. If I focused on the warming 
sounds of Prince’s silky smooth voice, I 
wouldn’t be as cold. It had worked in the 
past. Unfortunately, I focused a little too 
hard and missed my stop by a mile and a 
half. I immediately pulled the yellow cord 
and jumped off the bus at the nearest 
stop. There was no way I was about to 
walk home from where I ended up. So I 
waited … and waited … and then I thought 
about how cold I was … and then I waited 
some more.

“All Day” — Kanye West
I looked like Jack Nicholson in the 

end of “The Shining” by the time the 
Commuter North bus rolled around to 
take me back the way I came. The door 
popped open and I swear I had to break 
the ice that had formed around my 
joints before I could walk like a robot 
into that warm haven. I never thought 
I would have treated the sopping and 
muddy insides of a blue bus with the 
same appreciation and folksiness that 
I would a beautiful cabin in the woods 
with a roaring fireplace. I kicked my feet 
up, kept my earbuds OUT of my sight 
so I wouldn’t get distracted again and 
watched with the glaring intensity of a 
night owl for my stop.

I ran to my room, jumped in bed 

and lied there until I could feel my 
appendages again.

“Warm on a Cold Night” — Homme 

ft. Aminé

Despite 
this 
pain, 
despite 
the 

unfortunate 
scenarios 
Earth’s 

seemingly random weather patterns 
may bring, they keep you on your toes.

Also, I wouldn’t have this week’s 

column without small talk about the 
weather.

So thanks for helping me reach 

word count, Earth. You’re pretty rad 
sometimes. Keep on doin’ you.

“Thank You” — Francis and the 

Lights

BY MATT HARMON, DAILY NEWS EDITOR

ILLUSTRATION BY ROSEANNE CHAO

