THE IMMODESTY OF SUMMER

On hot days, a man wants to swan around in his underwear. Or even entirely naked. Out of deepest respect for the cigar smoking fellows of Marin County I did not do so today. They would've gotten an eye-full that they did not deserve.

And they would have been jealous. Particularly the elderly gentleman who eats fried chicken from a bucket in between puffing.
Besides, he'd rather see girl's tennis or golf.

I spent all day wearing clothes.
Which is exhausting!


Tomorrow will be different. Once the other person who lives in this apartment heads off to work, I'm stripping down.
It will be a sight to behold.

There will be no tickets available.
I am a modest exhibitionist.
Shy and reserved.

Unless one is Japanese, the maximum number of naked people should be no more than two. In any given place or time. The Japanese, of course, bathe in large groups, though often segregated by gender.
Other than in Japan, collective nudity is not quite the done thing.
So again: as many as two, but no more than.

[Image from Thermae Romae by Mari Yamazaki. Lucius, an ancient Roman bath house architect, transports to modern Japan for investigative purposes.]

The concept of group ablutions does not thrill me. I'm rather a sexist pig, and large numbers of the male physique don't strike me as salutary.
Actually, large numbers of ANY physique.

Nudity is best savoured in small doses.
The largest possible number is two.
I'm pretty firm on that score.


During the day I will fix myself some noodle soup.
After that I shall definitely need a bath.
As it will have splattered.



Please do not imagine me eating slick rice-sticks in the buff.
It just wouldn't be proper, or modest.
For either of us.


I am quite looking forward to this.



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