NICE CRISP BOXERS

Last night it was seventy five degrees when I went out for the final smoke of the day, without a jacket, and wearing a tee-shirt. Balmy, still a bit too hot. This morning it's mid sixties. Later it will be ninety or higher. So I'm torn between wanting to go downtown to do things and have a cup of milk tea, and letting common sense prevail. Exceptionally, I'll probably let common sense prevail.

I don't want to.

When it's over eighty degrees everything hurts and I'm not comfortable in my body. Years ago heat wasn't a problem. I'd happily stroll around acting tropical, la la la, this is great!
North Beach was a different world then.

Today, I'll probably stay indoors and move around as little as possible.
Yesterday I felt like crap until long after dark.

I disapprove of public nudity.

I've become an uncomfortable puritan.

A COLLEGE MAN'S ACCESSORY

During my Berkeley years heat did not affect me. That it does now I wish to blame on the frat boys, who are the source of everything wrong with this world. Typhoon Mankut five years ago? Frat boys! Russia's seizure of the Crimea? Frat boys! Fog in the Channel and the Continent isolated? Frat boys! Kanye foaming at the mouth psychotic? Frat boys!

Logically, of course, this does not hold water. But if I'm going to do the sensible thing today, there has to be something that gives.

I shall ponce around the apartment in my boxers, swilling weak tea.
While darning those frat boys all to heck.



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