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Today... I have exploded things in honour of our great nation. An early out last night. Couldn't stand the anticipation of a holiday that I don't even get paid for. Must be the patriot in me... or the slacker. Windows down, WPFW reggae on the wireless... air the consistency of a wet dog. Returned home to all of the fans off, which was remedied immediately. Scattered them all over the house, drawing whatever cool air might be lurking outside the windows and doors. Ah, the sultry charm of the hottest days of the year. This old bungalow has been denuded of the two anemic window AC units since we moved here... better to keep a constant temperature than the hot-and-cold two-step of cold to blistering. Call me a summer person... as unperfect as this is, I dread the thought of the opposite. This'll do. As usual, three days of ass-sitting set my bootheels wandering. With a borrowed twenty bucks, we stopped by the Fewd Loin, where yet another gunpowder merchant set me up with a finale and a choice under-the-counter bottle rocket. My criterion for a combustible that has promise? If the name would make a good title for a Kung Fu movie... buy it! "Mongul Campfire"... how poetic. How 'bout "Osama's suppository?" My favorite of all time: "Monkey Violating the Heavens." Brilliant. Searched low, then high for a cooler altitude into Madison County. Up through switchbacks where you could throw a rock from the car,and hit the road a quarter of a mile behind you, and just below. Past impossibly-balanced mobile homes. Back into little fjords of flatland between the German-looking ridges, were the pavement ended. Cooler, but only just.
Water. Must be doused with water. Natural air conditioning. If I had a truck, I'd see if anyone was game enough to pile into the back in bathing suits, and drive to the carwash. Collect some quarters, and mist everyone down with the "rinse" cycle, and drive into the woods. Those people are miles away. Yes, I'm impulsive. So... backyard, and garden hose, it was. And not too shabby. After looking at the Ocean City beach cam, last night, and witnessing the mass of humanity on the boardwalk, slipping off one another like vienna sausages still in the can... separated by sweat, this was AOK. Indoctrinated "Miss Jane's" vintage one-piece suit (remember Hathaway on Beverly Hillbillies? What Dianne's turning into)... when she walked away, turned it on myself. Oh, well. Made the Negra Modelo with lime taste PRETTY good, anyhow. From a height, after sundown, got the cheap seats to watch the town display, mirrored by another in the distance, silhouetted by the Blue Ridge. Oohing-and-ahhing in the company of strangers. It is good to be here. Big-money idea for the day... dressing someone up as bin Laden, having him ululate and make rude gestures to the crowd, and sell water balloons to toss at him. When he drops his drawers down to flag underpants, up the price after they're good and mad. America... home of free enterprise. My patriotism extends to not plastering the car with red-white-blue peel-offs or ragged, flapping desecrations... or lining the pockets of Wal Marts that see a good thing. Better to light the fuse of a silly firework and share it with others. My Bic lighter, 'tis of thee. Tomorrow... uncharted territory. The Road to Monterrey. El Camino del Monterrey. They sell it as "the Switzerland of Virginia." We'll find out. |
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