31 Summers...

I don't like the arrival of Summer, that fiery burning Solstice that brings the desert into Her own. Great seething burning Emptiness that surrounds this city. It's not the desert I don't like, or the heat - I love the heat. I wish Rob could live w/out a/c. I used to enjoy riding around w/the windows open, opening up the house after sundown, watching the hawk-moths. It's just that Summertime is when the past catches up w/me & I get struck w/the blues. Thinking about all my Summer love affairs... well, lust affairs. Realizing that I've never really been in love w/anyone. Realizing that I'm getting older & my options are slowly dripping through the hourglass of marketability. Realizing that I've never done anything worthwhile or meaningful in my life, and I probably never will, unless I get that wild hair up my arse to go join the Peace Corp. or the Foreign Legion or something similar... but I hate mosquitoes & malaria & starving bloated-bellied nekkid children w/flies sticking to their eyes, & I'd probably be stuck in admin anyway, pushing paper around on a desk made from rainforest materials in a sweatshop in Costa Rica. Thinking about Elton & Eric & Josh & Lisa & Ann & all those people I can't remember but had darned good times with.
Oh well. Every day I get closer to the grave.

Oddly Timely

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