Summer's coming down on Houston like a slow hammer. Ignore the calendar, because that judging by the solstice shit means nothing here; you go by when the temperature starts regularly sitting over 80 and keeps climbing steadily week over week. So far it's been manageable, which means not suffocatingly humid from dawn past dusk. You can even, if you're in the right mindset and if it's the right time of day, enjoy being in the sun, and understand what Oceanator means when they sing, in what is the platonic ideal of a killer song, "But now the sun’s out/ We’re feeling better about/ What the days ahead bring".
School's almost over, too. College kids wrapped up a while back, but HISD's last day is this coming week, which means my work schedule as an organizer with the teacher's union is fixing to shift to summer school mode. It's my first summer with the union staff, and I'm looking forward to it.
There's something rather perverse about enjoying (or at least appreciating) summertime in the face of global warming, but existence is nothing but a pile of contradictions, and summer ain't going away, so instead of feeling bad about shit, I'm gonna re-read Gravity's Rainbow (I first read it in 1999), wear shorts and nothing else around the house, drink cold green tea by the gallon, support Molly Cook for Texas Senate, practice 太極拳 taijiquan, listen to Psychic Hit, and drive around this insane city that the state of Texas absolutely despises, doing what I can to build worker power, which is the key to a future worth living in.
"I'm glad y'all came along." -Oceanator
DAS
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