It’s been a shitty summer. This summer, in particular, has been a very different genus of shitty, being my first Providence, Rhode Island summer.
It was not until this June that I realized how hypersensitive my body is to the elements. If I were to step out of my air conditioned room (the only tolerable room in the house), within 5 minutes I would become afflicted. I had heard of this “Sun Sickness” befalling roofers in Florida and Texas, but it’s reach goes far and wide, all the way to my apartment kitchen.
It starts with a vaguely nagging itching sensation on my upper back, or forehead. This is the first sign. If there are no freezers nearby for me to crawl into and enter the fetal position, it is already too late. Next comes the sweat. No, not “sweet” like candy. Theres an “a” after the first “e”. Sweat. Stinky, salty, pore vomit: overall, pretty fucking disgusting.
I’m of Irish and French descent. I don’t know where that places me on the global spectrum of natural perfumes, but it’s pretty gross. It’s nothing like the peculiar “tang” a Greek friend of mine possessed. It doesn’t quite have the tart edge of my other buddy who might have once been Italian in a previous life. No, my scent begs for the clean clear waters of a misty Irish Spring to wash it away. And yet, there’s also a little something about it that says “Fuck you, I’m French. I’ll shower when it’s not such a long walk to the laundromat.”. It’s a scent of contrast and contradiction.
When it gets really bad, like when I have to go outside my room for more than 10 minutes, my pits form their own environment. It’s almost exactly like that underground cave tour I once took in Texas. Instead of stalagmite/tites, there are ragged pit hairs clumped together by white deodorant crust. How long has that stuff been stuck up in there, anyways?
Then there’s the claustrophobic, inescapable moisture, hanging stagnant in the air with such tactile thickness, it begs the question “Am I in hell? Is this the Hell of the Eternal Stink, or is it the same as everybody else’s hell? Can they all smell me?”. It drip drip drips down your pits, then rises back up again by some kind of magical self sustaining hydroponic ecosystem. I probably wouldn’t last too long on Dune.
So yeah, I hate summer more than ever now. I grew up with the sea breeze at my doorstep. Now it’s like I live in the fucking Burger King kitchen. I say bring on the mild New England winter.
This is the first time in my life I’ve ever looked forward to September. Before, it carried the dread associated with the beginning of a new school year. Now that I’m done with that shit, I’m gaining a whole new perspective on the changing seasons. An old person perspective. I’m actually longing for “dat crisp fawl aiyuh” (that crisp fall air).
Another day closer to death!
