June 17, 2017
We don’t have air conditioning. We have these huge windows where the panes have all been replaced in a patchwork with this plexiglass material that is meant to be opaque, but it just looks dirty all the time.
The topmost panel of smaller panes opens via this giant geared wheel at the floor. It creaks and groans like nails on a chalkboard every time it gets hot enough for them to think we need a breeze.
It’s all right though. I don’t mind basically being outside all summer. The air in my cell is the same as the air on the outside those windows. It makes the wood on my guitar expand and contract. And my strings seem to deaden in the muggy oven of late afternoon. But I don’t mind.
When it rains the smells of cut grass and the steaming asphalt of the parking lot waft up into the block and for a moment it just feels like regular summer. The cooling air carries away some of the weight.
I’m reminded of a few years ago when I still played competitive sports in here. When I was still young enough. I was in a different facility. They had floodlights in their yard, so we could be out there at night.
The football season was almost over. We had made the playoffs, so we could just horse around and not give a shit about winning games. The thunderheads rolled in during the fourth quarter and made the lights kick on a couple hours early. The skies opened and the field flooded, but the guards, they just let us play.
We hydroplaned and muddied up. Took as much of the dirt in our teeth as we possibly could. Tracked the yard into the unit and took over the washing machines for the night. Went to bed tired, but for the right reasons. Content.