I’m supposed to take a walk this morning, but I’m feel awfully lazy, and it’s just a tad too warm. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this summer. It’s supposed to be a hot one. They’re all going to be hot and even hotter ones from now on, probably. God, I’d love to take a swim instead of walking today. I wrote about swimming briefly in my book about singing. (Except it’s really about death.)
“A few weeks after I’d started swimming again, when it no longer killed me to swim laps, I slid down underneath the water, braced my feet against the side of the pool, then pushed as hard as I could and took off for my next lap. It’s my favorite part. For those first few feet as you surge forward underwater, before you break the surface again, you feel like a rocket taking off into another world, but in slow motion, as the water gently softens what would otherwise have been an explosive burst. In that brief pocket of stretched-out time, as I soared, adagietto, through the bright blue, enveloping water …”
The rest is about death. Some more graffiti from my last walk. I like the skeleton. Big surprise, right?