Yeah, it’s been awhile yet again. Different reasons this time though. It’s because it’s summer here in Dallas and it is fucking HOT! Like, hotter than the Devil’s asshole the day after he won a Texas chili eating competition. I’m saying miserable, knock you down, burn you up, and leave you crispy on the pavement hot. I am outdoors 24/7, so there’s no escape. I don’t know how I survived summer 2019 out here with an IV heroin addiction. Maybe that’s the secret; start shooting tar again? Yeah, no.
So here we are. I’ve watched everyone’s morale shrink to an all time low, while tempers rose to an all time high. Every day goes something like this:
Wake up to the Cardinal’s singsong alarm at the usual 8am, drenched in sweat, already dangerously dehydrated, say fuck it and go back to sleep 3 or 4 times. Around noon-ish, I’ll force myself to accept that it will only get worse with time and sit up to miserably contemplate the tasks of the day. Make/drink coffee. Too hot to want to eat anything. Fan, battery banks, and phones are all dead, so Nita and I sit in silence – coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, occasionally grumbling about how much this sucks.
Everything that makes up the “bed” – padding, comforters, pillows, throw pillows – are in disgusting shape. Everything smells like months old accumulative BO, and feels even worse. I swear, it has become difficult to even get comfortable enough to sleep as it feels like some sort of flesh eating bacteria occupy every square inch of the now stiff, abrasive, bedding, and who knows? Maybe it does… (ed note: did all the laundry last night and finally everything is once again clean, soft, and Downy-fresh; for now…).
A few more hours roll by as I convince myself that it is in fact cooler outside of the tent. Finally, I sit outside in my bathing area which is basically a huge stainless steel pot, a stand to elevate said pot, some body wash, a washcloth and a bath towel, and begin the process of washing 24 hrs of filth from my body. This is the best part of the day. Getting there sucks ass, but once I do it brings at least half a smile. Finish, back in the tent to perform other personal maintenance tasks. Trim hair, beard, deodorize, powder, etc. This process can also be pleasant if the fan has any battery left. I’ll turn it up to medium or high and air dry nicely. It can also be miserable if there’s no remaining charge, as I sweat profusely from every pore only moments after the cleanse.
Time to make some money. I load up the garbage from the last 24hrs to take to the dumpster, as well as 3 empty 1 gal water jugs to be refilled from the spigot behind Care Now. That is my final task before heading back to camp, but I have to carry the fucking things around with me all day. Ride to the corner feels OK – the wind from the ride gives the illusion that it ain’t so bad out here.
Arrive at corner. Bad. It is around 100 real degrees, with a “feels like” of gofuckyourself. I sit on the median with my sign, drenched in sweat, quite literally frying like a piece of bacon for as long as I can stand it. The heat shimmers off the pavement in waves, and the blinding sun reflects off the windshields so hard I can’t even see the drivers’ faces inside their air-conditioned bubbles. I’m constantly wiping my brow every second and a half with a rag-tag shirt I bring along specifically to mop the sweat out of my eyes. My fucking toes are literally frying outside of my sandals—I’ve got this stark, weird white line where the straps cover, and the rest is just getting cooked crisp by the asphalt. Usually 30 mins before I need a 30 min shade break. I’ve experienced moderate heat stroke several times over the past few weeks. I am a pale, white Irishman from New England. I can’t even pour enough water down my throat to remain hydrated on days like these. Twice, I have awakened in the middle of the night with excruciating pain in my throat, as if I swallowed some hot coals just before passing out.
Money is slow, and so is the torture of being out here at this time of day in this specific location. Even the citizens in their air conditioned cars are miserable from the 10 mins a day they spend in this heat. Fantastic. Two hours of this and *maybe* I have enough for basic necessities for the day. On to McDonald’s for a free drink refill, then Starbucks to “write”, or “work on the website”, but really I just sit here wishing I was back at camp in my clean bed, and watch sitcom reruns because my brain is incapable of anything more.
Two more hours go by. It’s now around 10pm, and I sneak behind Care Now so as to not draw the ire of the on-site security dick, fill the jugs, and begin the uphill climb towards home, with easily more than 70lbs of shit on my back thinking how maybe I’ll do some chores when I get home now that it’s cooled off a bit. Maybe I’ll write a song. The possibilities make me smile, but here’s how it actually goes: drop the gear and supplies while frantically trying to open all the tent windows to let the steam out as I sweat my balls clean off. Baby powder for all the right places.
Oddly enough, lately, once the sun drops, the night turns welcoming. There’s no real breeze, but by 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning—and especially towards 5:00 or 6:00—the air cools down just enough to be tolerable. Plus, I scored a few new quality battery banks, which means I’m charging four of them at a time now. That extra juice lets me splurge when I get back to camp. I can crank the main fan on high, run an extra fan for air flow, bump the phone brightness up without worrying about the battery dying, and hook up the good Bluetooth speaker—which sounds amazing compared to the piece of shit I’ve been using. Finally, strip down to boxer briefs and fall into bed. Put on some quality television (Landman, Yellowstone) with actual solid audio blasting, and here’s where it ends. I am never able to talk myself into getting up again. I’ll fall asleep 3-4 hrs later, sleep off and on till noon and do it all over again.
Fuck Texas Summer. Seriously.
Latez,
Sully