Scribble, June 19, 2017

Finished a walk at 7:30 this morning and the temperature already reached 93 and will reach 114 this evening. Already hot and oppressive. A Raver asked me for some change; I wore new pants. The Electric Daisy Concert ended with girls dropped off in front of the courthouse wearing satin exercise shorts or bikinis. A few went straight to the ATM by the Palm Stars. One asked me for change.


I nearly passed out in the garden Sunday. I think it was already 105 by that point. Sitting in the shade, the sun seemed so bright. I wonder if miners crossing Death Valley just saw a bright light, and then, poop dead?


A serious funk obviously brought on by summer. The only thing to do in this heat is siesta.


Reality check: At least I’m not 6,000 miles from home wearing 100 pounds of gear and laced up boots in 120-degree heat. I’ll just sit here in the air conditioning and get over myself.


Read this weekend my favorite song off the Joshua Tree album tells the story of a couple on heroin planning a big score. I just saw it as a woman realizing she had to move on from an abusive relationship. The heroin story seems more authentic. There is always two sides to a story.


Everyone forgets the big picture. A van plows over people walking across the London Bridge. It is Extremist Islamic terrorism. A van plows over Muslims exiting a mosque. It is Islamophobia. Could it be a sick mind exacting revenge for the terrorism the month before? Even I’m doing it; no one wants to call Extremist Islamic Terrorism a reason to fuel hate. The two events are not isolated. The whole thing is a systemic wound.


The cream tastes sweet on my tongue and I long for the days of warm cookies from the oven and naps.



© 2017, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.

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