January 28, 2002

Death of a Snowperson

Someone brutalized my snowperson.

This happened last Sunday, during New York’s one and only snowfall this winter. As Rachel and I walked through Prospect Park, I noticed that the snow was perfect snowman snow, wet but not heavy wet. We choose a spot away from the big field, on a slight rise.

The way to make a snowman, in case you don’t know, is to roll a snowball through the snow, pushing down as you roll it. It’s slow going at first, because the ball is small and has little surface, but it gets easier once you reach a certain mass.

I decided that we were going to make the best snowman in the park, and I believe we succeeded. Except it wasn’t a snowman we built but a snowwoman. We gave her spiky twig hair and breasts with acorn tops as nipples. I was particularly proud of her breasts, one of which was slightly larger than the other, just like with non-snow women.

(Confession: it was strangely erotic to rub the breasts with my palm to smoothen them out. Does this make me a pervert?)

Rachel regretted not having a camera, but I felt that a snowperson is by its nature impermanent, so why try to capture it? However, on the way home, Rachel convinced me to return later and take photos. “You can post them on Oblivio,” she said.

Sadly, shockingly, this is what we found when we returned:

The crime scene

If this doesn’t look like a snowperson, it is because it’s not one anymore; it’s a crime scene. The pile of snow in the middle is what remained of her head after someone stomped on it. We found her torso elsewhere, smashed to pieces. Only her base remained intact.

I was upset. I’m still upset. Rachel and I walked through the park taking photos of other snowpersons, none of which had been harmed. Only ours.

Was it because of the breasts? Was it because we made a thing out of snow that had breasts, and so someone figured it would be fun to fuck it up?

I really think this is what happened. Or else some dipshit decided that exposed breasts on snowpersons are an affront to decency and shouldn’t have to be looked at, that little children will see breasts on snowpersons and all hell will break loose.

Anyway, fine, this happened over a week ago now and I’m trying to let it go. Non-fucking-attachment.

One more thing: her mouth. We found her mouth stuck in a tree. It had been a metal top from a can, the kind you pull off with a tab. I used the tab part to make it stay on her face. They folded the thing in half.