Apparently a
heat wave is currently gobbling up anything a couple hundred miles west of the east coast. Here in the
North Country it jumped to eighty-eight degrees. Nothing but the
sun.
Forgive me if my writing is a little sub-par tonight. After waking at six to take care of an observation gig and some paperwork, I decided that it would be a good idea to rest in the sun with some friends instead of taking the afternoon nap I had planned for. I now feel like every movement I make is through heavy liquid. My insides are set to slow burn. I did, however, get some sun and no longer look scary and unhealthy. For a point of reference: I'm often fond of telling people that one could light a cave with my butt.
Tonight I went out for a swim and walk. The peepers were singing tonight; thousands of them all singing into the night air. Air that was still warm from this afternoon, warm enough that you can still feel it. I always liked the sound of the peepers: summer's here.
I can still feel that slow burn. I feel like someone lit a fire and didn’t tell me about it.
As I write this James Brown tells me that he is a bad mutha. There are people screaming outside my window. Louder than they should be; volume for volume's sake. I try not to let it bother me.
So much to do and so little time. All I can think of is sleep. James has got money to burn. Damn I'm tired.