THE HOTTEST SUMMER EVER IS COMING TO AN END

Here I go, groping for something besides the heat to write about.Gotta admit, it is getting cooler. Dropped down to low triple-digits. That’sthe sort of madness that gets you when you live in Phoenix. 

I’m waiting for news from the Writing Front. Something else thatwill burn away your brain if you let it. Best to get distracted. Hey, what’sthat over there? A squirrel? A meteor? A desiccated tarantula? That long, lostmonsoon? Are those clouds? Did I just hallucinate a raindrop hitting my arm?

And then, I get an email with an attachment. It’s the finalmanuscript of my story collection, Pancho Villa’s Flying Circus & OtherFictions (I’m starting to think of it as Pancho). This is startingto feel real. Looking it over is an impure pleasure.

Looks like I’ll be able to point to this book when people ask,“What have you been doing with your life?”

Actually, it’s just the tip of my iceberg, what people can seefrom their own personal Titanics.

It sure has been a long, strange trip.

Then I had a day when I was trying to get back to my mom about atune she heard while on hold with her doctor, the computers at work were actingfunny, I found a lizard that was both desiccated and flattened (I put thecorpse in my wallet and carried it around all day), I got a royalty check,Facebook removed some of my content and I couldn’t tell what it was.

Did a certain ex-president just show signs of imminent unraveling?Or is it wishful thinking on my part?

Fortunately, Phoenix was at the outer fringes of HurricaneHilary’s reach. It clouded over, cooled down to the double digits, and now andthen some light sprinkles messed up the windshield of mi troque.

Are my new glasses ready yet? How close to x-ray vision will theyget me?

Somehow, things aren’t feeling apocalyptic, but that may just beme.

The day after the hurricane, it dried out and the temp shot up.Back to the new normal.

New normals come more often these days. Like future shock orsomething.

Finally, my new glasses came. Almost as astounding as the cataractsurgery. How many years was I walking around in that fog?

I sent my corrected Pancho to my publisher. Hard not to getexcited.

Suddenly we have what will probably be the most bizarre electioncampaign ever, rearing its hideous head.

Why not? It’s tarantula mating season. There’s weird shit in theair.

And the killer heat is back, with a vengeance.

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