Someone needs to invent an emergency post-coital pep pill for men. I don’t know how it is for women, but I can see why in most cultures, medical “experts” right up until the 1950s always assumed that orgasm released some kind of “vital energy”, leaving a man weakened. Combine the after-sex crash with my pre-existing heat-induced malaise, and what I intended to be a bit of before-dinner nookie turned into several hours of near-total oblivion.
Of course, the upshot is that now I’m wide awake, when I ought to be resting up for work tomorrow. Curse you, summer! (I can more readily forgive sex than the season).
Summer has never been my most favored time of year, although I have come to appreciate it better in recent years. But there is one feature that has always stood out about it: the nights. Summer nights are magic. They are electric. They are not meant for sleep, but for moonlight chases and stolen kisses and midnight swims. In the tense air of a summer night, with it’s hesitant, fragrant breezes, with it’s rollicking insect chorus and pavement still radiating heat from the previous day, more than any other time anything is possible. Boys are young gods, flush with unselfconscious power. Girls are night-blooms, mysterious and intoxicating. Here in my room the drone of the fan speaks only of smothering sleep; but I know if I go out into that night and take one breath, I will be filled with the urge to run, to drive, to walk and explore and make chance acquaintances.
Summer nights are one of the few things which make me wish I lived closer to the city. Although I daresay that even at this charged hour, the cons would outnumber the pros.
I sent avivahg to Heathcote for the School of Living Anniversary Gathering this weekend. She spent most of the weekend there, learning about permaculture, organic gardening, edible weeds, community supported agriculture, and other hippie topics. I’ll let her tell the wholse story, but it sounds slike she had a great time; an (apparent) allergic reaction Saturday night notwithstanding. I’m extremely happy for her that she’s making connections and getting so much out of exploring her (for lack of a better term) hippy side. I would have loved to have gone too, more for the spiritual and intellectual talks and workshops; but it was somewhat pricey and I figured that of the two of us, she’d probably get more out of it.
Of course, now she’s all excited about going to live in an intentional community – it seems Heathcote has an upcoming vacancy. I maintain that I am too independant-minded a person to live happily in a communal environment; but I am keeping an open mind. Certainly I think it would be a good environment for the kids, although it would be a severe culture shock for them. I’m just not sure I’m ready to have my fate so closely bound up with that of a bunch of other people. Goodness knows I have a hard enough time reconciling myself to being yoked to a family.