Highs and Lows
by Nic Olson
Sometimes there just isn’t much to say.
A heat wave of tropical proportions hit the city just a few weeks after an earthquake. Welcome to hell. When where you live is hotter than any other location in the city, and is less comfortable than anywhere else, is when things are backwards. But where crotches and armpits become offensive, living and seeing has been real.
Last week I tried climbing to the roof of the apartment for celebratory fireworks and general evening hangouts, but it wasn’t as easy as grabbing a shelving unit from the dumpster and climbing from the balcony up. The lid to the roof hole is still loose from pushing up against it with a broom handle. The roof has yet to be pioneered but I’ve reached new heights.
I’ve always been partial towards traveling and the intimacies of it all, but after a short bus ride to a nearby city, alone, reading and being, I realized that it may not be exclusively be the traveling, the newness, the distinctions, but the fact that I like being away from home, wherever that is for the current month. I’ve reached new lows.
A week into school and I start to question its and my motives. A school of celebrated assimilation, where everyone gets paid to learn a language so they can be part of the purified whole. This is either hell or the best deal I’ve ever got, and I’m thinking it is the latter. My bank account has reached new heights.
Today, to finally cease the four day wave of extreme warmth and stickiness, it rained. It really rained, tropical climate rain. And our garbage can was rolling down the street below. Barefoot and shirtless I slipped my way down the spiral staircase fire escape, kicked the other garbage cans aside and rescued ours from the river-like Rue de Richelieu. All the while the storm percolated through the open door and open window in our room, soaking the futon mattresses and all else. I’ve reached new lows.
But generally, the highs and lows have balanced out to a soft, even and true medium which cannot be denied. When you are drinking an Arizona and eating a bagel whose cousin has been to space, then it just seems alright.