The heat is on

I was going to quote something subtler from the lyrics of that Glenn Frey song, but when I looked them up I discovered nothing quotable. It’s amazing how little substance some popular songs have when you scrutinize them.

When I left the office yesterday afternoon, my car’s thermometer registered 114°. Now, I didn’t for a minute believe that was an accurate reflection of the air temperature. I have no idea exactly where the sensor is on my car, but it usually takes a few minutes for the readout to converge with reality after I turn on the engine. In cool weather it registers low on start-up and in hot weather, high. True enough, it wasn’t 114° out—it was a mere 102°.

If the prognosticators are right, today will be the last triple-digit day we’ll see for a while. Mercifully, we might even get some rain over the next several days, about by, oh, say, Friday we’ll be complaining that it’s raining all the time without being thankful for a 10-degree reduction in the ambient temperature.

We watched Black Snake Moan last night, a decent movie with Samuel L. Jackson as a cuckolded husband and Christina Ricci as a woman with wandering thighs eyes who come into contact with each other. Jackson plays a guy named (rather symbolically) Lazarus, a former blues musician whose wife has just run away with his brother. Ricci’s boyfriend has just enlisted in the army and the smoke from the tailpipe of the bus on which he leaves town is still visible in the air when she starts going to town herself, in a “Ruby, don’t take your love to town” kinda way. I was surprised by the relative acrimony of many reviewers (e.g. at Rotten Tomatoes) toward the film. We quite enjoyed it, even if it was a little difficult by moments. The character of the preacher was a pleasant surprise and the symbolism of the chain plays out in an unexpected way. Sure, the whole chaining thing is a little ludicrous, but Laz is a misguided man at the moment he does that, dealing with his own loss—and not just that of his wife, but of what his wife did many years earlier.

The editor to which I sent the rough draft of my most recent short story really liked it, much to my relief. He made some very helpful and pointed suggestions for my rewrite, which also help me bring some things into focus. The story is an intensely personal one, and he gave me permission to not hold back, telling me he, as editor, would advise me if I happened to go too far. Also extremely helpful. I didn’t touch the story this morning, wanting to take some time to digest his comments, so I worked on my Storytellers essay instead.

I finished The Sun over Breda and will review it for Onxy shortly. Next up—probably the new James Lee Burke.