Austin360 blogs > Globe-Jotting > Archives > 2009 > August > 21 > Entry
Helter swelter
It was a largish gathering, maybe 25 people, and it was hot outside and everyone was soggy by about 9 p.m. The sun fell and we got sweatier.
This was duly noted by attendees. “It only gets hotter as we sit here.” “It seemed cooler when the sun was still out.” Banal murmurs as sweat pooled around our butts and bled oval stains across the arm-pits of our garments.
Menus were used both as objects filled with useful information in jaunty typefaces and as desperate fans. They failed as fans; hot air was merely swished back and forth. Better to wait for one of those intermittent breezes that would rustle across the patio like a lover’s sigh. There were lovers, too. If they sighed, they kept it to themselves. The rest of us were glad of that.
Summer nights is not only a song, it’s a torture filled with vengeance and teeth. The stars look like ice chips, and they mock. We do the melting. Mist machines make you damp, too. (Don’t mist me, bro.)
All this moist languor leaves us soupy. Yearning for cooler nights will not make them so. We sigh, but they’re not the right kind.
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