Summertime Summer Reads

Will I be more interesting after my twenties, is it too late or way too early to fathom Calvino. Revolutionary Road is one beautifully written depressing book I will never recommend to anyone…seriously read it, it’s lovely. Dan Chelotti ‘s X is mesmerizing, these lines haunt : ‘Why do I expect magic only when things break down?’ , I re read ‘The Great Gatsby’ , it was even more exquisite this time as I had Di’Caprio’s lovely voice and face swimming and prancing through the text. I must have chomped through a million cherries this summer, and yes 50 oz of coffee a day is a bit much I realize, 36 oz works just fine. For some reason I have 250 followers on Twitter, it’s funny because I have been inactive on it for almost a year. And do you know what makes reading Cosmicomics easier, reading Calvino’s’ Six Memos for the Next Millennium ‘alongside it, it’s Sparknotes of sorts, and that my friend is a dangling modifier. Go figure.

I really can’t run. I tried, but my huffing gets very disconcerting to people around, especially when it turns into a shrill wheezing while I continue stomping and it seems I am about to have a seizure; even though I don’t feel as bad as I look at the time. Boston is a city of seriously seasoned runners. The other day a guy took me in his arms thinking I needed to be rescued, he was cute, I took a few extra seconds to tell him I was fine. Also it’s so much easier and practical to carry a book on a walk than on a run, you don’t feel the need to be rescued very often. My walks are longer, much longer, thank you long summer days. Boston is a different city in the summer, not home. I feel like a tourist as I make my way to Charles five times a week.

Summer doesn’t belong here. You cannot warm up to Boston summer as you can to its winter or embrace it with quite as much dignity. The dog days* make you hopeful, in winter all you want to do is get home and read a book with a steaming cup of coffee. Expectations are easier to manage in winters, a warm coat and good pair of gloves suffices. I feel obliged to quote Thoreau to balance my cynicism, ‘One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.’Summer is frivolous, never enough, a fine day but a memory, each day a beautiful stranger you hope to get to know. It leaves you wanting this summer; it is like the circus in town, it brings joy, lot of entertainment and distraction. The whole town talks about it, goes to it, frolicks but after a while the town wants it to leave. It is difficult to sit quiet at home, or be serious about anything when the circus is in town.

The Calcutta Chromosome by Amitav Ghosh was an engaging read, a disappointing end but kept me busy for two whole days, intersperse that with Camus’ The Plague, and what you have is an intriguing scuba diving expedition with the air pressure not quite right. There’s this lovely property in Cornwall, United Kingdom I wish to spend a week of my summer someday, waking up to scones with strawberry jam and coffee, and view so majestically mystic. Chance upon some giants and piskies, romancing a Cornish folklore.

I should explain the reference to Dog Days* above. In ancient Rome dog days was associated with a dog star called Sirius (As a Harry Potter fan this got me really excited, now we know why Sirius Black’s animagi was a shaggy black dog.).  This Dog Star was believed to be only seen during the hot summer months of July and August. It never was. There’s also an allusion around dog days – an evil time, wine turning sour, dogs going mad and what not crap… I ignore such references, for I do not believe anything can be unpleasant or evil when being compared to a dog.

I always leave Calvin and Hobbes an hour before sleep, few pages of Hitchhiker’s guide to Galaxy for midnight, a cup of Rooibos with honey, and sweet dreams it is.

 

 

Summer Bummer!

Right! So what have I been up to this summer, not much really.  Yes, there was this short and sweet trip to Las Vegas with my girls from undergrad (and a husband for some reason) … Vegas is vain, and no matter how hard I try and accept the vanity of ‘Vegas Baby’, really it’s crap . The sites were boring, the hotel architecture tacky, interiors even worse, the city lights at best mediocre, and the promise of ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ sadly pathetic, because if getting mindlessly drunk ought to be a big secret, then woohoo… you have a story to tell.  Went for a male strip show , which did take my breathe away, I pride myself in thinking I don’t fall for the obviously good looking ones in life without good reason (Matt Damon’s a Harvard dropout alright!)  , especially the kinds who drop their pants for a living, but sigh, ten minutes in and I was swooning to the bulging glistening muscles ,the cart wheels and pelvic thrusts. For those two hours I truly believed that the 12 hunky Australians on stage were the only decent beings on this planet worth splurging on. Then there were martinis on high heels, short dresses way up my knees, and googly eyes with boys in the club, my friend and I soon realized we weren't really enjoying ourselves, somehow attention from horny drunk men  and spring break undergrad boys isn't fun anymore, if ever it was. And I did make some money on the gambling floor; the rush of winning was pretty cool, and then I lost some, and a dealer yelled at me, that wasn't very cool. 

To save our trip from utter disappointment, my friend and I decided to go see the Grand Canyon on our last day in Vegas.  Both of us had packed extra pairs of pumps with our luggage but no sneakers, so we bought warm socks and trudged along the rim of the grand valley in awe and flip flops.  It was gorgeous, the day was clear, the temperature a crisp 65F, and the drive engaging. Our guide was a delightful Chilean, Angelo, who wouldn’t shut up and shared wonderful stories about the Mafia time that was, the Hoover Dam and the charming little town of Seligman, which inspired the movie Cars’ backdrop.  The view from atop the Canyon is truly mesmerizing, it tingles your senses, as our guide droned on about the age of the rocks, the geological transformations et all, I went into a reverie, I felt accomplished looking at the view, of finally being there, as if that had been the aim all along, The Canyon inspires that, so I’m glad we made the trip.  Oh yes, there was this sweet extremely pseudo French bistro Mon Ami Gabi, right opposite the Bellagio, we had a lovely meal there, with the fountain rising and singing at twilight , there was no heist to cheer to, but sitting there with my best friend felt sufficiently awesome, the bread was good.

I finished my year of corporate residency at the company I was working at, they offered me a full time position, I felt they courted me well, and now I await my paperwork to come through. I ended my residency on a high note of appreciation from all, especially from my manager, he has become a mentor of sorts, I find myself constantly seeking his guidance, approval and recognition, he definitely inspires loyalty in me.   And then there were classes, homework, midterms and finals... I trudged along, completing things that need to be completed, attending to stuff that needed attention, shopping online during my minutes of respite, in a way I’m glad there weren’t too many of that.  But then I have spent a lot of time stressing that summer is wooshing by, and not letting me ride a bike, row a boat, climb a mountain and wander on lost trails and truly experience the wonders of New England. I really need that driving license I have been a complete bum about it.

Then there was a Miami- Keywest holiday this past weekend with my oldest friend, his wife and friends of his … at best it was a lot of fun, but more so awkward, as I honestly found myself bored to death, no fault of my traveling companions, they are lovely people. Lucky for me, Keywest is beautiful, and our hotel room even more so. I do hope to go back soon, maybe a bit more alone seeking solitude, ride the bicycle around town for a longer period of time, and eat way more fish than I did. The highlight of my trip was my visit to the Hemingway house in Keywest.  A lovely colonial two storied mansion style house, lot of space within the house for sea breeze to dance around.  The bathrooms especially are tastefully done, each bathtub overlooking the grounds, I can only imagine Ernest soaking in and just staring out. The lush grounds around the house reminded me of my garden in Kalina, where I’d love to get lost, walk around and muse with Elsa by my side. Six to seven tabby cats live on the property now, fat lazy things, they look so secure and at home, it was fun watching them. I remembered that one quote from his books : ' Never go on trips with anyone you do not love' and figured why Vegas wasn't so bad after all. 
My terrible tan is a big damper, though wouldn't trade it for the long hours bumming on the beach and in water, snorkeling, jet skying and splashing around. 

I'm glad for the break though, managed to read and re read quite a few books. 

So summer rolls by…yawn!!!