Black sheets of rain

4 07 2014

Okay, so I’m a bit odd.

It was hot and sticky the past coupla’ days—just about hottily-sticky enough for me to have hoisted my a/c into the window and cranked her on.

Just about, but not quite.

I know, I hate summer, hate the heat, the stickiness, the sun, and, by August, everything, so you’d think that I’d have that a/c humming whenever the temp got heatward of 85.

Except, of course, I don’t like a/c. I’m glad for it, sure—nothing like standing on a stinky-hot subway platform to make one glad for the air-cool of the car—but my appreciation is merely dutiful, and, frankly, even a little resentful:

If it weren’t so fucking hot I wouldn’t need the damned thing.

Anyway, since I wasn’t thinking about how miserable I was every second of the day and I was able to sleep well enough with the window fan, I figured I could go without.

That’s a reasonable reason for laying off.

The real reason? Thunderstorms were to blow through, dropping the temp into the seventies.

When I lived in Minneapolis (and Montréal and Somerville), I didn’t have air conditioning, and would thus suffer (not at all stoically) thru the summer muck. The only relief came with the storms.

Wind! Thunder! Lightening! Cats and dogs and ponies!

It was glorious.

I didn’t much like summer back in the day, but it’s only been the past few years that I’ve really come to hate it.

So while it may make no sense to a normal person for me to delay installing the one device which might allay my misery, I did it for the right reason.

I did it for the glory.


All things weird and wonderful, 39

29 05 2014

I’ve totally got a thing for storms, big big big storms.

Not enough to be a stormchaser, but I totally get the urge to find the kind of weather that looks beautiful as it kills you.

That’s shot by Stephen Locke, and he’s got a coupla’ websites to showcase his skills at capturing these beautiful beasts.

New York has almost everything, good and bad, but it lacks the weather—or, more precisely, lacks the sightlines to the kind of weather that makes me want to run outside and throw my arms wide and head back and let it all rush through me.

Wisconsin and Minnesota had that. Even in Minneapolis, which is a respectable city, there was enough open space to see how the big sky made us all small.

To be made small by pettiness—my own or someone else’s—diminishes me. But to be made small by something overwhelming is to be caught up in the overwhelm and, absurdly, made large.


h/t Phil Plait, Bad Astronomer

Breathe deep fill up with relief

6 06 2010

It’s 88 and sticky in New York. Good thing I have an air conditioner (Thanks T & P!), right?

Yeah, hm, so why isn’t it on?

I used it yesterday, when it was also 88 and sticky, tho’ I turned it off when I left for a night out, and kept it off overnight, using a fan in the window instead. This morning, I didn’t even consider turning it on.

So why a/c on Saturday and not on Sunday?

Because it’s supposed to rain, you see, and not just rain, but thunder and lightning and wind and general mayhem. Whoo hoo!

All those years without a/c have conditioned me to wait for the thunderstorm, the crack that signals the break in the weather, the wind that blows the swamp air away. Wisconsin, Minnesota, Quebec, Massachusetts, and now, New York, and it’s all the same: the air fills with heat and dew, heavier and heavier and heavier as the days drag on, until, finally, it rips itself apart.

With the a/c on, it’s just a show outside my window; after it’s over, I can open the windows and it’s all the same.

But if I open those windows before and let that heat seep in, when the sundering comes, I get the release and the relief.

I get to feel it all.