Oh Inverted World, 180G Black Vinyl LP, Debut Album
For the majority of Americans, it's a given: summer is the best season of the year. Or so you'd think, judging from the anonymous TV ad men and women who proclaim, "Summer is here! Get your [insert iced drink here] now!"-- whereas in the winter, they regret to inform us that it's time to brace ourselves with a new Burlington coat. And TV is just an exaggerated reflection of ourselves; the hordes of convertibles making the weekend pilgrimage to the nearest beach are proof enough. Vitamin D overdoses abound.
If my tone isn't suggestive enough, then I'll say it flat out: I hate the summer. It is, in my opinion, the worst season of the year. Sure, it's great for holidays, work vacations, and ogling the underdressed opposite sex, but you pay for this in sweat, which comes by the quart, even if you obey summer's central directive: be lazy. Then there's the traffic, both pedestrian and automobile, and those unavoidable, unbearable Hollywood blockbusters and TV reruns (or second-rate series). Not to mention those package music tours.
But perhaps worst of all is the heightened aggression. Just last week, in the middle of the day, a reasonable-looking man in his mid-twenties decided to slam his palm across my forehead as he walked past me. Mere days later-- this time at night-- a similar-looking man (but different; there a lot of these guys in Boston) stumbled out of a bar and immediately grabbed my shirt and tore the pocket off, spattering his blood across my arms and chest in the process. There's a reason no one riots in the winter. -Pitchfork