August 6, 2012
The storm came and went last night leaving a wet spear over the landscape, but no real relief from the heat.
This August is drawn out like a perpetual torture, thick with heat and so humid I struggled to wash out last nightís sweat before I start a new sweat this morning.
I head for the Hoboken office for a morning ritual I have not taken part in a while where the weary faces of groggy fellow workers stumble in after a weekendís excesses. I miss the place and the people like I have rarely before, feeling every bit a prisoner in the cave like mostly abandoned offices in Bayonne.
But it is not as easy chore, even at this late date.
The heat and humidity over a troubled water I still donít completely understand.