Chemical cushion

Leen and I are in a cab in Lower East Side, riding north to Grand Central. I'm here to help her carry her bags. For a girl who's going to spend a couple of weeks in Australia, I have to grant her that she knows the meaning of "traveling light."

In the cab, she gives me 6 tiny, pentagon-shaped pills of Adavan. I say, Thank you. I say, I'll pay you back with Lexomil when my brother's girlfriend bring them to me next week.

I feel bad, stealing her candies. But I need them. This is no recreational use. I haven't used any in 2 years, and I have had a lot of shit to deal with in two years. And the way things are looking up, there's plenty more shit where that come from.

She say, Don't worry.

She tells me that Adavan was for anxiety disorder, but had the great advantage over Xanax of not having annoying sexual side-effect. She was right.

But maybe it's the heat. I have the feeling that people all around are horny. I don't understand how it is possible that the New York era was colonized BEFORE the invention of Air conditioner. It makes no sense. How could people liver here in the 17th and 18th century with all their stupid fluffy clothes, when I'm dripping sweat only wearing my underwear.

No AC at home, and the fan died on me about a week ago. I used to have an AC but I gave it to a pregnant friend of mine last winter when she moved out. Every year it's the same. I think I'm immune to NY humid and heavy and hot and windless summers, until the said summer arrives and leaves me suffocating, sweating and barely able to function.