June 1st, 2008
God damn, people.
I mean one moment we're midway through a crumbtastic weekend weather-wise, it's kinda chilly with morbidly damp breezes coming thru the window outside of which at the moment is nothing but a sea of dark dark chlorophyll green, rain-soaked new leaves dangling limply outside, turning to maybe sorta muggy there's humidity definitely I think the radio said something about thunderboltsnlightning, veryveryfrightening me and now it's the first time the window's been open all season and the radio is just idly throwing music outside while I was sprawled out on the bed in front of an open window hoping for any kind of cross-ventilation, devoid of all energy, but then last night I was walking down College Ave and there was a tap on my shoulder just at the same time a lightning bolt cracked horizontally across the sky for a brilliant effect best seen in the letterboxed version and I turned around to see where the tap was coming from and there was no one, oh well, no matter, and I turned around and walked straight (ka-pow) into summer.
Rode the Orange Line out and rode the Orange Line back and the summer people are out, everybody all sweaty, grubby, dirty, and desperate, and here it's only the first of June but I'm so fatigued and so dingy it feels like the second week of August already, and now here's the stop on the Orange Line I used every day back when I was starting a new job after so long, all sweaty, grubby, dirty and desperate, waiting outside in this oppressive wall of heat for a ride in a blessedly air-conditioned van with several other people, all headed to the same job, the same destination we knew we were all heading not because we could go there but because we had to go somewhere, and the weeds are already growing up through the cracks in the concrete and nobody cares and I am glad I had enough change in my pocket for an iced coffee at the stand with enough left over for a soda out of the vending machine for my lunch, and then maybe I'll bum a cigarette off one of the disaffected youth at the smoker's picnic table because at least then it'll give me a reason to go outside while trying to find just one reason to go back in for another four hours of the same before going back home to sprawl out on the bed in front of an open window and hope for any kind of cross-ventilation. Years later the places have all changed and so have the situations, but the sprawling is the same and if anything had to stay the same, I'm glad it's just the sprawling.
Yesterday was the first day the window was open, and today is the first day the fan is on. The low constant drone is reassuring and friendly. I missed it. It will be the undertone of the next four months.
|Date:||June 1st, 2008 05:23 pm (UTC)|| |
Return Of The Fan has become a celebrated summertime event at our house. We have a little white noise generator, but nothing beats the real thing.
My mother uses a fan year-round for the white noise. She keeps it on the floor pointed at the corner during the winter.
What, you didn't get that nice week of spring? Just winter winter winter FUCK YOU OPPRESSIVE HEAT AND HUMIDITY?
I'd srsly ask for my money back.
|Date:||June 2nd, 2008 03:54 am (UTC)|| |
If you don't like the weather in Boston, you should really try DETROIT
I'm friending you solely based on that awesome Spider icon. That, and your recent two-line Obama assessment: "I just like watching this guy talk. He says stupid things far less often than anyone else in the race."
Anyway, if my recent fawning
over 1992's Death Becomes Her
doesn't convince you to friend me back, well, I've done all I can.
It is what some would call hot here, but it is the South, and the time for complaining has yet to arrive. The rule is, if you can still breathe then save your breath for when all the oxygen in the atmosphere ignites.