|Illustration from the article|
On summer days, New York City can be as much as 10 degrees warmer than its surrounding areas, because of the asphalt, concrete and metal that trap the heat. We’re certainly living on an urban heat island, one that seems to shimmer and expand during the long, sweltering days. Everything gets louder, closer, brighter.
I completely agree. I wrote a sonnet about the coming of Autumn and expressed my contempt for summer.
Of course plenty of people feel differently. People who like heat. People who like to be outside doing physical things more than they like to be inside doing intellectual things. People who have somewhere nice to go and someone nice to go with them.
The only time I ever managed to have a whole week long summer vacation with a romantic partner was September 1999, when my ex Jonathan and I rented a house in Cape May Point. We invited a bunch of friends to visit us and they all unexpectedly took us up on it and it's when I realized my former friend Mary Kay was a raging bitch when she refused to give up the large master bedroom she had claimed for herself when my friend Rebecca and husband and baby showed up and were forced to take the much smaller room. A little later Mary Kay causally mentioned she had declawed her cat and that was the final straw.
They all stayed for a few days at the beginning of the week. As they were leaving I came down with the flu and was bed-ridden for the next few days, and then as I was feeling a little better we were hit with Hurricane Floyd. The last day of our rental it was nice and sunny but I was too weak from fighting off the flu to do anything much and we went home.
Summer has always been hyped up so much it's bound to be disappointing. Much like life itself.
Only three months until blessed Autumn.