It's been hot around here lately. It was overcast yesterday, but still there was inescapable heat. I start to feel like I'm absorbing it during the day, like a rock, and it clouds about me like an aura while I sleep in what ought to be a cooler night, with the fan on at full. Even with an air conditioner blanketing the room with forceful cool, I can feel all matter fighting to be hot. Ass, thighs, and back on the seat in the car become soaked with sweat no matter how cold my front is from the air conditioner.
I've got to stop driving so much. I bet I'd save a lot of money. These days, I pretty much only drive to the grocery store, my parents' house, and Tim's house, except for a couple trips to the mall or Fry's. It's more than necessary when just about everything I need--and more--is in walking distance. But then there's the matter of the heat . . .
Why do all the transformers in the new movie look the same? Why does the trailer for the new Lady Chatterley's Lover seem like a grindhouse trailer? I really have only questions to-night, I'm afraid . . .
"But, sir!" I hear you say, "What have you gotten done?"
A little colouring. Various forms of reading. Almost no writing. I guess I could call this a vacation. Except it feels more like summer camp.