And quietly the last tether snapped and the cicada flew free to fly about its business of fucking and dying. I'm sure there was some brooding in there as well.
This summer has been lazy thus far, not that I'm complaining, it's just that dipping our toes into July is usually a blistering undertaking, yet once one morning I think I almost needed a cardigan. I didn't of course. My needs are not left wanting, and my wants are simply a matter of passing days and miles. I'm running nine a week, which is enough for now, for these long, lazy days. The drinks are tall and cool and that's all I need or want any longer, and life is good accordingly; my cup and liquor cabinet overfloweth.
Not that there aren't plans. There are skylines and breaking waves on the horizon, marching ever closer with each passing day. And there are friends as well, and toasts and meals to share, and memories to be made that can never be unmade, and that's the damnedest thing about memories, how stubbornly they remain with us.
But the booze, it helps.
Summers are made for being lazy.
ReplyDeleteAnd you can avoid making memories if you drink enough. Or at least that's worked for me in the past.
Yes, meals to share, drinks to drink, laughter to laugh, and friends to befriend. Summer is good. Especially August, I think.
ReplyDeleteMG!'s comment is perfect, BTW.
I think the brooding thing was perfect. I will look upon cicadas differently from now on.
ReplyDeletepassing days and miles and drinks -- seems to me that's really all we can ask for, maybe. booze really is wonderful.
ReplyDelete