The Summer of George

The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.

-- Pearl S. Buck

I'm the chairman of the bored.

-- Iggy Pop, I'm Bored

Far from being a second renaissance, this past week has been as dull as an audio book of Ulysses read by James Lipton. My malaise came to a head yesterday, the result of which led me to clean my apartment top to bottom, including (*gasp*) the bathroom (ironically, I've never felt dirtier); and while I did manage to make it outside for a few hours to play basketball, it was simply, due to the oppressive heat, life in a bigger prison. Seriously, if after less than a minute outside you feel as though you're wading through molasses, it's probably a good idea to stay at home with the a/c cranked. (And if you don't have an air-conditioner you probably deserve every ounce of life's cruel fate. Seriously, I bet you were a child molester in a past life.)

So it was with surprising relief that I welcomed the start of the work week; but that sentiment is short-lived, because tomorrow is a holiday: one which promises to be as equally hot and dull as the day prior.

This late-summer ennui has in recent years become my bane, but it is particularly hard this year with C3PO and R2D2 -- aka the wife and girl -- away.

Nevertheless, I will persist; I will fight the inky black clutches of boredom as I always have, with the assurance that -- as inevitable as leaves falling in autumn -- this dark cloud will eventually subside.

In the meantime, I'm going to sulk about and gnaw furniture like an iron-deficient child.