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Jul. 14th, 2004 04:35 pmThe heat finally arrived yesterday with promises of sticking around. In fact, the heat stuck to the pavement, and that part of your forehead right in front of your hairline. It stuck to the windows of the buses and glinted off and spangled in bright sharp triangles of sunshine, motor exhaust and 5 PM rush hour walking crowd spelling out a shimmer mirage of relentless, flat, onward, summer's here.
The cool of the office hung on for the half mile walk to the train, just in time for me to hop down the stairs to the underground tracks and settle into a molded plastic seat. A woman in a bright magenta t shirt dozed off next to me, and I was saved by the overly-efficient air conditioning as her shoulder pressed into mine, and her nodding head moved her into my space in tiny little cycles.
At home, I cracked the glass in the living room window, which has seen better days and doesn't stay up on its own. That's what you get for installing a large A/C window unit by yourself - dirt all up and down the arms, a bit of cursing, and sweat mopped off the face with a bandanna old enough that the cotton is mellowed and soft. The dehumidifier managed to max out the power strip it was plugged into, so it got moved to the kitchen, where it whirred away quietly and then stopped once evening fell, and the weather eased up a bit.
Like mates for pairs of earrings, I keep misplacing people in my life - I'll think I've got them tucked away safely in an address book, or a somewhat-recent letter, and then an e-mail will bounce, or a phone line will be disconnected, and I find I've been horribly wrong all along. It's been happening a lot more often lately, and it's disconcerting. Some lines have been drawn back up, threads re-woven into the daily routine, but the loss of contact leaves me feeling rattled. There are people that are in various subsets of my life, active all the time, and they also feel disconnected. I'm not sure how much more effort I can put into this without feeling foolish and like it's all a waste of my time. I'm constantly re-evaluating, when I'm sitting on the train (the woman next to me ready to start snoring any second), but there are gaps, withholdings, stubbornness. Choices and spare change jingle in my pockets.
The you that I have the clearest picture of may have been a lie. You're turned to the side anyhow, and I suspect you regret the moment I pushed down on the shutter button, to tell you the truth.
The cool of the office hung on for the half mile walk to the train, just in time for me to hop down the stairs to the underground tracks and settle into a molded plastic seat. A woman in a bright magenta t shirt dozed off next to me, and I was saved by the overly-efficient air conditioning as her shoulder pressed into mine, and her nodding head moved her into my space in tiny little cycles.
At home, I cracked the glass in the living room window, which has seen better days and doesn't stay up on its own. That's what you get for installing a large A/C window unit by yourself - dirt all up and down the arms, a bit of cursing, and sweat mopped off the face with a bandanna old enough that the cotton is mellowed and soft. The dehumidifier managed to max out the power strip it was plugged into, so it got moved to the kitchen, where it whirred away quietly and then stopped once evening fell, and the weather eased up a bit.
Like mates for pairs of earrings, I keep misplacing people in my life - I'll think I've got them tucked away safely in an address book, or a somewhat-recent letter, and then an e-mail will bounce, or a phone line will be disconnected, and I find I've been horribly wrong all along. It's been happening a lot more often lately, and it's disconcerting. Some lines have been drawn back up, threads re-woven into the daily routine, but the loss of contact leaves me feeling rattled. There are people that are in various subsets of my life, active all the time, and they also feel disconnected. I'm not sure how much more effort I can put into this without feeling foolish and like it's all a waste of my time. I'm constantly re-evaluating, when I'm sitting on the train (the woman next to me ready to start snoring any second), but there are gaps, withholdings, stubbornness. Choices and spare change jingle in my pockets.
The you that I have the clearest picture of may have been a lie. You're turned to the side anyhow, and I suspect you regret the moment I pushed down on the shutter button, to tell you the truth.
