Heat

More than 90 degrees yesterday, nearly that today.

Oakland is never this hot. It is, of course, sometimes. It's just so seldom this hot that it feels like never. I know one does not take things out of mothballs on hot days. I think one takes things out of mothballs before vacations or maybe around solstice time, in spring or fall.

But it is so hot that I am going to take a word out of mothballs. And the word is:

Torpor.

Man, I feel Southern right now. I feel the way I did during summers back in Virginia when I was a teenager, dreading the start of two-a-day football practice on August 15. I feel as if all activity is unjustified. Out here in Oakland about 350 days a year, one feels brisk and ready, even on rainy days, which are fine for brain work.

But today is one of those days at the end of which I will be a day closer to dead with nothing done.

Time for a kicker, but I think not. It's too hot to come up with some ideas, sort them out, make a choice and polish the final result.

To kick, to sweat, to melt.

It's too darn hot.