the seasons

Sink Into the August Heat

We’ve arrived in August, the best summer month (or maybe it’s tied with June, now that I think about it — you can make your own decision) and the most bittersweet. The days are long and relentlessly hot, the nights are sweaty and relentlessly gross, and everyone looks nonstop disgusting as they attempt to “be present” while anxiously ticking off the days till winter; it’s summer, baby, and it’s ending one minute at a time (a reference to Fight Club for which I apologize).

The disgust is non-combatable, unfortunately. Unless you’re rich. Staying presentable in heat and humidity is a wealth signifier similar to the rich girl hair that Anna Delvey infamously lacked. Whether it is some sort of de-humidifying wealth gene, or money spent on products that are inaccessible to most, or an abundance of air-conditioned meetings (?) I cannot say, but the rich have it and the rest of us don’t. There’s no use trying to obtain the unobtainable (or the unobtanium, an Avatar reference for which I apologize). Sink into the heat; roll around in the disgust; love it while you have it.

A great thing about August is that it, like February, is an honest month. It’s going to be: hot. And it’s likely also going to be: humid. It’s perfect in that it fills your appetite for heat right before September, which is a dishonest month that is also going to be: hot, and which will wring you completely dry of your summer-related goodwill. This prepares you for fall. It all works out fairly well (the seasons), even though it feels annoying when it’s September and you’d like to remove your window-unit air conditioner but cannot because it is so fucking hot still and you need it, at least, for your dog.

There was an inhumanely cold night this past March when I was walking around the city with two friends, one of whom had just gotten his fake I.D. taken away by a bouncer at the door of the bar we were planning on ducking into to escape the temperature for a few minutes, (I’m friends with a child), in search of pizza. I said aloud that night, yelling above the fucking awful wind, “THIS WILL BE A GOOD NIGHT TO REMEMBER WHEN IT IS TOO HOT IN THE SUMMER.” (I wish it had been a friend who said that so I could credit the friend, but unfortunately it was me so I must credit myself.) I was right.

Soon it will be very cold, which we will deal with and attempt to appreciate when the time comes. Now it is very hot, and it’s time to feel it fully. Be sweaty and disgusting. Look up ways to astral project to escape your horrific human form. Stand outside and think about how nice and honest August is; how it is a perfect August day. It will be good to remember when it is too cold in the winter (a reference to me for which I apologize).

Sink Into the August Heat