Heat and Dust Up the Yin Yang

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Engine running, AC on, and her dad is going to bring her a biscuit from the cashier at the hardware store. She’s a good dog. She is.

“I believe someone made a grievous mistake when summer was created; no novitiate or god in their right mind would make a season akin to hell on purpose. Someone should be fired.” ~ Michelle Franklin

Heat, like gravity, penetrates every substance of the universe, its rays occupy all parts of space. The object of our work is to set forth the mathematical laws which this element obeys. The theory of heat will hereafter form one of the most important branches of general physics.”  ~ Joseph Fourier 

“Certain things in life simply have to be experienced – and never explained. Love is such a thing.” ~ Paolo Coelho 

It might be proper to sing praise to the coffee before me. This morning it is having more of a positive impact than usual. Dark, rich, woody, French . . . . oh, wait. I’m drinking Starbucks Morning Joe, which I started drinking just for the name, and that Pensacola lad on MSNBC, and the fact that the lad abandoned his Republican jersey to take a stab at confronting the bad guys who are, chop by chop, almost succeeding in imposing fascism, or something like it, on our country; and if you watch the right TV channel you will end up believing that putting babies in jail is like way cool. Imagine that. Evil is afoot in the land. Do not doubt it. I should note that Morning Joe also plays guitar — he’s a rocker. I’ll put my money on rockers. If you think about . . . . or if think about it, the heart and soul of rock and roll can knock the bad guys and gals down enough that they will not break as many things before they put their toys away and go home. And they will. Mark my word. Picture Roger Daltry, buffed up like a Greek god, roaring “We won’t get fooled again!”. That sort of thing. Hey, it’s my fantasy, k? But, anyway . . . .


Yeh, I’m bummin’ from the heat. I learned to cope with it down in the Keys, but ya got a big old ocean right there, and the persistent southeast breeze. And yet, here? Bone dry. Dust up the yin yang. There’s a fresh fire burning up near Moreno Valley. It’s hot! It’s only five days past the Solstice and I’m already fed up with Summer. Of course I have the memory of sleeping on the cool, finished concrete slab of a floor, in my little concrete cottage on Windley Key, box fan at my head, box fan at my feet. Sweet. That memory has connotations as well. That afternoon I’d had a major bicycle crash in Key Largo. I and my gear, and my sandals, ended up a little too spread out on the northbound lane of the four-lane stretch of US 1. The accident was not my fault. That night it was a solid sleep on the floor that slathered balm on my weary soul. Remember, if you sleep on the floor you will never fall out of bed. That’s an old Taoist maxim, goes all the way back to Alan Watts in the 60s. That explains a lot. Soooo . . . . here I am sitting on a rock and roll mood and it is right up on time to get ready for work. I’ll go out and have a look at the bare, Summer sunrise first. I’m sure it will have that orange-y brown tinge of smoke from a distant fire, and from dust on the wind. But the low-50ºs morning chill is like a cup of just-so chilled lemon Italian ice for breakfast. The day will be hot. National news will become a tad more dire. And I will be groovin’ on pretty women’s smiles, and rockin’ out to whatever tune I can muster, inside or out. If I can find a tune by Taylor Swift I will be all set. She has still completely ignored my lunch invitation. But it’s still on, should she change her mind, or even if it comes to her notice at all. I ain’t changin’ my mind, though. Taylor? S’up, girl.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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