Lazy summer daze
by Matt Worley

Other than my relentless pursuit to rid our house of the strange little black flying bugs that have visited with the frequency of a bad song on commercial radio, I haven't really done much at all since the sun decided to glow full strength. Oh sure, I still go to work (occasionally), I pick up the mail, I write stupid jokes, but mostly I dream about lying down on my bed with the fan turning in leisurely circles above my head. It's summer weather here in the land of enchantment, and I've already got my summer glow off to a good start.

I know there are magazines to layout and publish, punch lines to work on for our buddy Bill, columns to spew and new electronica CDs to listen to, but I'd rather be doing anything else. Sitting in front of the computer while the sun shines its happy, silent song is a bit frustrating. I feel a bit like Ferris Bueller, but alas, I have no school to skip. With my hair shorn to its summer length (something like a bob, but different), I'm ready to bask in the laziness that is summer.

The summer movies are out and costing more than ever, but, through some strange twist of fate, the second run movie houses lowered their prices. There may be throngs of Albuquerqeans flocking to our new 24 screen theater, but I'm not one of them. When a resident of Rio Rancho (affluent suburb of the Big Q--yes it does mean "river ranch") says that the new theater will bring culture to the city, one understands that people's summer priorities are possibly out of whack. Why go to the mall of movies when you could climb the mountain, walk down Ridgecrest looking at all the houses you can't afford, or just sit in the backyard freaking out the neighbor's dogs with the new Chemical Brothers CD?

It is a question many would prefer not to answer. Nature is free, which, of course, means "cheap" in the eyes of many Americans. No one wants to be cheap. If they're going to go camping they must have the new sleeping back that absorbs sweat (for use at a later time?), the new three-room tent (nylon, by the way, is even thinner than sheet rock), and spiffy backpack that carries little more than credit cards and a coke. But I've got to forget about all of that--it's summer! Which means that I can work on my bikini line in the privacy of my own backyard. And maybe cook some burgers on the grill.

Of course, I'd still rather be lying on my bed under the ceiling fan than actually do anything. Maybe I will check out "The Fifth Element" at the mall of movies (oh wait, it's more expensive to see a movie there--the seats don't have gum stuck on them yet), or play a little Frisbee or hacky sack in the sun. But maybe I was right at the beginning. There really isn't anything better to do in the summer than veg. We'll leave the work for the cooler days of fall and the cold days of winter. We'll only go to the job when it's crappy outside. We'll make a nine month world where the summer is only good for in-line skating and air conditioned movie theaters.

Maybe summer is really just a state of mind. And if I can get out of this state of mind, everything will go back to the normalcy of fall, winter and spring. And rambling. Summer could be the season of rambling. If I could just get in a couple colorful phrases and turns of the screw I'll be fine. I'm just gonna lie down underneath the ceiling fan for a few more minutes and I'll get right to it. Don't worry. I swear. But could you get the beer out of the fridge for me? I'm feeling a bit indisposed at the moment.

Matt Worley will return to his regular schedule as soon as he figures out a reason to get off the bed.

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