Heatwave in Bushwick

Hottest day of the year. It was. I saw hydrant water run across the street and little fat kids, shirts sticking to their little boobies like a skin, getting all wet. I told ’em, I just biked seven miles and one of them said, whoa, I’ll hold your bike for you. I dunked my head, forgetting the water pressure, then cupped handfuls over my arms. The cooling sensation was immense.

Tomorrow is a party on Bogart street in 98 degree heat. Roberta’s, which recently got a write-up in The New Yorker (look out Bushwick, people from Manhattan are going to start comin over) and which really could stand to be less a bunch of jerks when it comes to seating, is supposed to be offering free pizza, although I don’t think they’ll be able to churn out enough for the 2000 attending on Facebook. There’s live wrestling though, so we’ve got that to look forward to.

I’m just thankful I have a.c. in my bedroom and that there hasn’t been a blackout yet. Knock on wood.The heat is extreme and we all know how I feel about extremes– that’s when I’m happiest. I sit in my room like a hermit and read and write. So whether it’s a hundred degrees or zero, I’m happy as an oyster, alone.

Published by Daniel Ryan Adler

Daniel was born in Brooklyn, NY, and has lived in Portland, Oregon. He studied literature and philosophy at NYU and creative writing at Edinburgh University. He is finishing an MFA in Fiction at University of South Carolina.

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