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No one’s reading this… which is okay, because no one’s writing this

It’s summer. We’re in the thick of hot and humid laziness, the kind that makes me want to curl up under a shady tree in the grass on the banks of the Charles River and watch the insane joggers stumble past… or flop down under an umbrella on the white sands of a North Shore beach and pretend the waves are breaking above ankle-height… or position my open mouth under the dispensing valve of a vanilla soft-serve machine, to suckle on soft-serve until my brain is frozen into a stooped monolith, rendering the need for self-cooling through bodily perspiration unnecessary.

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By Meredith – July 17, 2008

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