Wednesday, August 3, 2011

dear landlord, i need a new ac.

The air around us is thick with the stench of sweat and frustration in my inadequately cooled yet overabundantly furnished apartment. The dogs lay splalyed out across the kitchen tiles like bearskin rugs, only their teeth and panting toungues portruding. It's monsoon season and the air is thick with a moisture our lungs have lopng forgotten how to process. The heat is unbearably oppressive and the tension hangs in the air like a fight waiting to happen.
I move restlessly from one piece of funature to the next, desperately seeking sollace from the heat, and regardless of my efforts a thin layer of sweat collects between my skin and anything it touches. I'm left with the sensation that my whole world has been covered in fly tape, sticky and hot, I stands before the fan greatful that natures ac is relatively infallible.
It's too hot to be productive, so I curl up in front of the ac and attempts to sleep. The air that blows is tepid and heavy at best, suffocating at its worst. The sleep one has in this type of heat is a very specific and peculiar type. The body will shut down only the systems not directly responsible to thermal regulation, and some part of the mind will remain alert to govern the waking sysatems. The unconscious mind will find its way into half held dreams of anxiety and distress, and the body will continue to ineffectually cool itself through sweat and more sweat. Depending on how long you have before the nightmares wake up, you arise to something between a drenched brow and soaking sheets.
i give up sweaty and spent and rise to write about it all.

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