seasonal madness

Summertime always fills me with thoughts of running away from routine, making radical changes. It starts in the spring, when I suddenly have trouble sleeping and feel my limbs coursing with energy.

In the summer I want to just take off and do adventures in the woods or on the water. The city seems harsh and uncomfortable, and I am bored by women in short tank tops that show off their chubby bellies and bad lower-back tattoos, bored by men who wear those long basketball shorts and scratch their sweaty crotches in the heat, turn their baseball hats back and forth on their heads. Sticky things spilled and hardened on the sidewalk. The smell of pollution dense, the air heavy.

I want to go and work my body outdoors, far away from the city, every day, until I am ready to drop.

And when I drop after busting my ass all day I would ideally eat some BBQ ribs with good sauce, or occasionally watch a movie in a cold basement, nap on the sofa. Hammocks are also good.

Working the body is redemption from the malls, the cars, the endless reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond (EXCEPT ME YOU BASTARD!) and other banal trash that clutters the cultural landscape in the city.