Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Sweat Stains
It was 109 degrees in Sanlucar and I felt blissfully well. Advancing years - possibly this is a portent of my ultimate destination - have made me inordinately fond of intense heat. I feel at 120 degrees I would at last become at one with my body. Great heat seems to be its own justification, filling the minutes with purpose and meaning. Sweat stains are badges of belonging.
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A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.
I hope that as the sweat poured off you, you replenished your fluids by drinking copious quantities of chilled manzanilla. I'm sure I would.
ReplyDeleteOr maybe you are part iguana.
ReplyDelete109 my arse, check the temps this year and its not even reached anything over 30 yet, 109 in your head more like, You might just be seating over Gorgon staying in his job?
ReplyDeleteAnyway 20 to 25 is the perfect temperature daytime, 10 to 15 nighttime.
Wrong there, Sean, there were high temp warnings on the radio, that doesn't happen at 30. Also my temp confirmed by everymeasure I saw.
ReplyDeleteEventually mere weather will not suffice for your cravings of mortality, and Empedocles-like you will don a bronze sandal and hurl yourself into a volcano, in a bid to become immortal, or just die - the two tend to go together.
ReplyDeleteThere is some good bargains to Iceland this year, and plenty of volcanic activity too, and 109f 43c X 10.
ReplyDeleteMaybe this is the place Bryan needs to visit to morph into uber Byran. Cadiz thats just sherry really.