This is an obscenely hot place. I just don’t know how people do it. You wake up and it is already warm. Then it gets warmer, and warmer, and warmer still. It’s as if the sun lives mere inches from the surface of the earth. Insects hide in the shadows, mammals beneath trees or in caves. Everything hides from the brutal radiance of the sun god. I’ve been told ad nauseum about how this is so much nicer than Washington. In my experience, people who love southern California are a bit like stereotypical vegans [as opposed to actual vegans]. You’ll know if someone is from SoCal because they won’t stop telling you how much nicer it is here. Yet, without fail, every time the summer creeps upon us and the temperatures rise to foolishly high levels those same people begin to complain.
Hiding from the wisps of fire beneath the sweet angels breath that is air conditioning. As Azrael in Dogma put it “No pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater… than central air.” I’m not sure if Kevin Smith lives in the Southern California area (probably does) but that line seems to be bred from this land. As the drought moves on I’m reminded of just how inhospitable this place is to human life. Sunburns hit hard and fast, baking you in the ten minutes it takes to walk from your work to the nearest place to eat. Food truck AC units leak constantly to keep everyone contained within from being well done.
It’s not without its luxuries. The food here is quite good. But that could be accomplished just about anywhere. There is nothing about obscene temperatures that really improves the flavor of food. If anything it makes walking into a place with an open kitchen to be even less sufferable. Or more insufferable, depending on how you like to wing that saying.
I have an honest to goodness headache from nothing but heat. That is madness of the highest order. In Washington a solid 80-90% of the year you can walk around with little more than the proper clothing and be comfortable. The winters are cool, the summers are warm, and the spring and fall are pleasant. Variety is the spice of life. I feel like the inverse proportions are true for Southern California. 10-20% of the time you can walk around with the proper clothing, but the other 80-90% of the time there is nothing you can do. You can only get so nude before the harsh reality of your own frailty is thrust upon you.
Sweating like a hamburger patty, your flesh glistening beneath the cruel caress of the sun.