But I'm not going to lie: I ended up not doing it.

We were at the lake, M and I, and it was something that only the severely retarded or the totally awesome would have done because it was freezing. But we didn't care, obviously, because the sight was breathtaking. Gray and white and beige for miles and miles -mostly gray and white, even the sand was gray. It was very post-modern rock. There were even seagulls. I guess the seagulls were retarded/awesome like us and decided to stick around for the fabulous Northeast Ohio weather.

Anyway, I was mildly shitting a brick as I brought my camera but it did not have film. I would have snapped a picture of the birds as they all flew towards us in some sort of odd, cinematic frenzy. It was surreal, all of it. It was almost as if we were placed in an obscure '30s French film, except we were in Cleveland. But obviously, everything else would have been the same.

As I kept saying, "Oh fuck me!" to the gray clouds and barely visible blue sky, the seagulls kept flying overhead and we made our way towards the concrete steps that were marked "No swimming." The steps were bathed in ice. I imagine in the summer that kids use those steps as a diving board, or maybe just some place to sit and look at the water closely.

Everything was sad and funny at the same time, in that ironic sort of way. My cheeks stung after a while.

I said: "I'm going to fucking come back tomorrow and fucking take pictures. Those seagulls aren't going anywhere."