Views From The Space-Ship: summer nights in the neighbor-hood

I don’t know if its a #HotTake (I’m using that ironically, but also like, not ironically, which as a Millennial means I’m leveling up and moving towards post-irony double-irony, and will soon go up in flames due to self-immolation sponsored by douchiness), but I don’t like summer. As a regressive, progressive techo-fetishist, I prefer the dim blue-wash of a computer monitor than the scorching midday sun. I prefer the blowing of an air conditioner to the blowing of dank, humid, Massachusetts air. For the most part. For the most part! But when the sun sets, and a deep blue hits the sky, I’m sold. Sold on the summer. It’s momentary, but it’s something I seize upon with dog and leash. Seize upon with foot to pavement. A nice walk. A nice night.

I suppose this is why I prefer late summer. Late July through August. When the smell of early decay begins to turn-up. When the smell of my pit-stained dress shirts begins to turn-down.

For now though, I’ll settle for these liminal moments that hit around 8:30, when the sun sets but the birds still chirp. Where it’s warm, but not too warm. Where the planet feels pleasantly habitable.