Day One: 1/24/26

Shhhiiiiivvvverrrr me timbers! It seems as though existential powers decided to test me and my fellow scallywags. We pirates on land are currently betrayed by the waters we once called home. Ice smothers the grass and every path we trod so often. For now, the sludge-like ice that can barely be called “snow” is exciting and new. A new beast to explore, to play with, and to conquer fearlessly just like any other foe. The ice swathes the buildings, decorating their rooftops in a bright and blissful way. It is rather beautiful, but also strange. Aye, it rarely seems to snow in these parts. It is odd but exciting to see the green of grass smothered by the snow’s icy grasp. Such a joyful opportunity it is to frolic around, floundering among the snowflakes. I fear it won’t be so for long. 

Our adventures in this new land of ice seem fruitful. The “comms”, as the locals call it, is ready for the ransacking. We feast on their delectable offerings of waffles, yoghurt, and hot chocolate. And while the outdoors may look like a frozen wasteland, the comms provides, like a watering hole where the locals gather to converse and indulge in life’s pleasures before venturing out once more through the cold winds of despair. This ice has proven a cruel mistress to all those who walk or skate upon her top. Even those of my crew with the sturdiest sea legs have slipped once or twice. Even I cannot judge the poor lads, as I myself nearly fell to the ice’s slippery ways. It has proven quite fun to skate around on the ice and attempt to make snowballs. Alas, we are largely unsuccessful, but perhaps another time will bring us the proper consistency of snow. My first mate even tried to make a snowman. It’s quite small and pathetic, but loveable nonetheless. But I suppose us pirates do have a love for the outcasts, the popular, and everyone in between. Perhaps tomorrow we shall try to sled on the ice. I bet a piece of eight that our old coot of a cook would win in a sled race. He looks rather aerodynamic for his age.

Day 2: 1/25/26

This day is even colder than the last. The local men here must hold some form of witchcraft, for among them there laid a few brave souls who dared wear shorts or sandals. How parts of them did not freeze or fall off is beyond me, but perhaps that is their magic. We shall have to investigate. Some of my beloved crew chose to hunker down for warmth, which I understand. This sudden winter is a right bilge rat, getting into your bones and filling you with the chill. Only a good cup of that ambrosial hot chocolate seems to be the cure, though other hot drinks may also serve to stave off the hibernal spirits. We did attempt to sled today, fashioning seats out of cardboard and sheer willpower – a rather simple task, but it kept the men entertained nonetheless. I lost the bet and that eight, unfortunately. The cook was slow like a tortoise and twice as infuriating. There is little to do these days. The snow still may be a novelty, but I would much rather remain inside to languish by a fireside. Not that they have many of those in this land of cars, fields, and something known as H-E-B. My first mate said that place was a desolate place of barren shelves and broken dreams. 

I am doing everything in my power to keep morale high, but this no-man’s-land makes it a hard sell. Few souls are so brazen as to tread beyond the warmth of home without hunger or thirst to satiate. If this frost continues, I know not what to do. Usually, we might feast, drink, and make merry…but that is a bit harder with the cold. It is too difficult to dance with the cold wrapping about your bones, harder to drink if it might freeze when left out overnight. Perhaps a bonfire shall lift spirits among the crew and myself. It seems the locals have taken to the strange climate like camels to the tundra – quite unexpectedly possible. Salt and sand now cover walkways where only humid air used to lie, in an attempt to melt the ice quicker. The awkward waddling across paths is still so, but I am constantly amazed how they and their so-called “university” have learned to adapt. I suppose that is what happens when you actually get an education instead of turning to piracy.

Day 3: 1/26/26

The days have now begun to blur together. Without my log to keep me on course, it would be ever so easy to lose track of time. I have run out of things to do. It seems we can only eat and sleep, trapped in a prison of our own making. The snow is not even that high nor dangerous, yet only a true brave man is one who is willing to step out the door into the freezing outdoors. The uniqueness of this cold snap has faded into stagnant, frozen monotony with each passing day. Our nests of comfort and warmth become ever more similar to the ships my men and I sail –  a place for food, drink, and entertainment all bound together and sent off. My windows are my only peek into the outside world, the comms one of the few places where I might see a friendly face besides my own. I hope this all ends soon, though I am glad to be stranded on this island of sorts with such good people. I need not fear a mutiny here, the locals are kind and my crew of misfits is loyal. I do love this strange place of other landlocked pirates like myself, but I may go mad if I am trapped behind these bars of metal and glass any longer.

At least the ice is melting back into the friendlier and more walkable slush. Perhaps once the chill leaves my bones and all returns to normal, I will be allowed to study amongst the scholars here. The other pirates on the seven seas will be shocked once they learn of the “piadeia” at this institution. I do not know what it is, mayhap a weapon of the mind used by these students and professors. They seem quite wise, perhaps this paideia is the last tool my crew and I will need to be the most fearsome pirates to ever rule the land. 

 Day 4: 1/27/26

At long last, we have been freed. No longer shall we be frozen in both temperature and motion. No more scavenging for meals in the pantry or waddling across the ice just to reach the isle of provisions. No more wandering around, trying to think of things to do. On the boat, we might play cards or regale one another with beautiful stories of our lives. Luckily, in this strange modern age of technology and social media, with a million options of entertainment, it is not too hard to find amusement. But the endless scrolling and mindless typing led me only to  boredom.

I look forward to the easy joy of conversing with actual people who are not trapped in a tiny screen. The gentle flow of the day as it passes by, filled with faces and voices. Friends to greet, acquaintances to meet. Things to do, finally. It will be good to see my crew again. And tomorrow, when I am finally able to be free, I will yearn once more for the comfort of home. I suppose this is just the way of the world, a vicious and ironic cycle. Perhaps I will long for these cold days later. But for now, I remain optimistic about the opportunity of being among my fellow man.