Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Summer Reading

As our mutual friend the inimitable Rejectionist has said, New York in the summer gives off a distinct and truly heinous "boiled poop" smell that will sicken and infuriate you (assuming the general sound and the fury of the city haven't already done so).

You'd think that if you're out early—say, Fifth Avenue, 5 am—you'd avoid it, but that's not the case. (It was approximately Fahrenheit 451 here before 9:00 in the morning.) You can try and hang out in the passages between subway stations, but the breeze is hot and putrid and there are a lot of homeless people.

I'm not sure what causes the 100+ degree heat and 80%+ humidity—honestly, it feels like you're trapped under some kind of dome—but it's exceptionally unpleasant. As I lay dying in my un-air conditioned and decidedly un-imperial bedroom this morning, not wanting to return to work after a week-long vacation, I considered running off to the lake again, or at the very least, taking the day off and going to the Bronx Zoo to hang out in that delightful inner-city animal farm, or maybe watch them inseminating the elephant.

Okay, that last one was weird, and I'm out of books/puns/ideas. Post yours in the comments!


  1. I got up early looking for inspiration to send my one page synop to Chuck Sambuchino's workshop at WD and there you were.

    Transplanted from the Apple to South Florida, humidity and heat have become a staple in my life, but ah, I do miss the pungent aroma of New York City streets.

    That indescrible scent of rotted flora just after the street "cleaner" and his filthy machine wets down and pushes trash around for a while.

    But though you think you want to run back to the lake, where ever it may be, in truth you would be lost without those rotten streets.

    Be grateful to be in the heart of it all, complete with smells, imperfections, homeless, crime and filth ... it still remains The City and where would we be without her?

    Yesterday you were transisting, today you are resisting ... by tomorrow the lake will be a distant memory and you will be back with us in full force.

    Welcome home :)

  2. Walking outside in western Illinois is like stepping into the mouth of a giant, panting dog.

    I swam to my car this morning through the fetid air, trying to avoid the swarms of mayflies and gnats that moved to intercept me like the insect paparazzi they are. The mosquitos will wait until I return tonight.

    Guh. Just . . . guh.

  3. 80%? You wuss.

    (Nice post. Did Laura write it for you? :D)

  4. In California, we don't have to wade through humidity, just pretentious jerks. During the Summer, the jerks are worth it.

  5. In Connecticut, our current humidty blows up from down the way of the slightly bruised, yet somehow overrippenly pulply city...Fetid to the point of gagging, it curls our hair and causes an utter lack of common sense in the female species as it applies to outerwear.