Paulie and I saw the new documentary that Al Gore did on global warming a couple of weeks ago, "An Inconvenient Truth". Everyone, you need to see this movie. It is amazing! SO informative and SO brilliant, and utterly terrifying. Basically, we are all going to be cooking in our own skin over about the next fifty years, so if you've been procrastinating on any long term projects I'd suggest you go ahead and get started.
Of course, being that it's summertime in Virginia you can't really help but think about this kind of stuff pretty much every time you go outside. Also the air conditioner in my car is broken right now, so any time I have to go someplace I'm confronted with the fact of my own mortality. I've never been one for the sun, anyway. I know it's probably partly because I'm so fair skinned and I brighten up like a chicago red-hot after about ten minutes (ten minutes - I've clocked it!) But it's just an uncomfortable thing, isn't it, being HOT? You get those pools of sweat in your bra, and your hair frizzes out, and the back of your shirt sticks to you - not sexy. Not a good look.
Though summer in Virginia definitely beats summer in New York, by a long shot. There are no pools of urine-soaked garbage to stagnate in the sun, for one thing. And when I had to go down into the subway it always felt like I was like descending into the pit of despair, if the pit of despair had 90 percent humidity and a newsstand.
You know what's weird, though: I always used to see these Japanese women on the subway, and they were like the only ones who never seemed wilted by the heat. Their hair always looks smooth, their faces are never flushed, their blouses don't pit. This makes no sense to me, since as far as I know, it doesn't get all that hot in Japan.
(Okay I just Googled it and it can get pretty hot in Japan. Do I look like Al Roker, for God's sake? It's a blog, not weather.com. Back off.)
Did that thing about Japanese women sound racist? It's kind of a gray area, huh? Hm.
I was walking around in DC the other day after this audition and after about five minutes I wanted to loosen my corset and sit under an oak tree with my parasol. Then I remembered that I'm not Scarlett O'Hara. I saw a couple of people jogging and I just wanted to slap them on their dopey heads, I mean, you could stand on the sidewalk and work up the exact same sweat organically. Stop showing off, joggers! You're so frickin' superior. Okay, so you'll live longer, whoopity doo! In the year 2060 when you're crisping up like a tostino's pizza roll you might be wishing you had just left well enough alone.
But you know who I felt really sorry for were all the men I kept passing in three piece suits. Dear God, that just should not be allowed in this weather. I kept thinking that they ought to have some sort of business alternative for that, like maybe those old-fashioned men's bathing suits that looked sort of like leotards, remember those? It'd be much more humane. I guess they're not exactly formal. You could still wear a tie with it or something, dress it up a bit.
Think I might be onto something.