This post is for Tron

In the midst of early summer haze, when the humidity is hot enough to melt the balls through my sack, I sit here contemplating. It's the kind of comtemplation one does when he has no air conditioning, filled with thoughts of yester-years, years when the not-so-gentle hum of the window unit blew cold air into the room. There's nothing else to keep a person cool in this fuckin weather, so you sit and thing.

You think of the cool dry air conditioned room while waiting for your character to land in WoW. He flies over mountains covered with snow, and you gently curse under your breathe, wishing for days when snow existed. You fly over lush green valleys, and you wonder, is it as humid down there as it is in your room?

I cry for the good old days when air conditioners worked. The whirling of the fan on high does nothing. It just swirls hot air around, hot air that slowly fills with moisture as more of the heat outside permeates into my room, into my body, into my memories. It permeates into my mind, telling me how torturous the world is. How cruel that 15 feet away, someone is sleeping quietly in an air conditioned room, hearing the not-so-gentle hum of an window unit, as it blows cold air in her face. The same cold air that used to blow in my face.

So many years ago.