"I've never been able to properly explain myself in this climate."

-Johnny Depp, as Hunter Thompson, in the movie Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas

I don't think it's my growing age or my physical shape or anything like that. It's getting hotter.

When I was a wee misanthropic young adult, I remember sweltering through summer in my first apartment, when I would get out of shower, towel myself dry and almost immediately return to being unpleasantly damp as the sweat fought to expel itself out of my body.

I didn't have an air conditioner in that first apartment and never used it in my car, either. But I never thought I could feel the sun slowly crisping my skin when I was subjected to its direct rays before, either. I never felt the need to sleep three of four hours in the middle of the day after spending a few minutes outside, neither.

Looks like Al Gore and all of them damned pointy-headed scientists were right, huh?

Well, shit then. I guess I'll just have to stay in my air-conditioned cave until those two magical weeks - one in spring, one in fall - when the temperature isn't too hot or too cold, but just right.

Thankfully, though, this accursed heat is keeping my creative motor idling at full power. Here's an English language haiku:

In shorts, a jungle

Not heat, but humidity

I stick to vinyl

Needs some work, I know, but let me take care of it after the sun goes down, okay?

It's too freaking hot right now.