August is by far my least favorite month of the year. It's always so fookin' hot and (usually) everything is burned up and dying and brown and crispy. It's just part of living in Texas, but it sucks. Its days are long and relentless, and--as if to seriously fuck with me--it seems like the universe always ensures that August is also insanely busy (both personally and professionally). So I am never EVER sad to tear turn the calendar over and see September looking back at me. But it's an utter mind fuck. Even though the kids are in school and football has started and pumpkins and Halloween candy are appearing in the stores, it's STILL so damn hot.
August pisses me off, but September? September just depresses me.
And so here we are.
I am melancholy, tired, headachy, and generally disgruntled, and I blame it ALL on September.
At least I've got tickets to a lot of live performances by bands/comedians I love coming up between now and mid-November:
The Pixies
Pavement
Sufjan Stevens
Aziz Ansari
Ray LaMontagne/Levon Helm
Tim and Eric's Awesome Show
Louis C.K.
So...you know...yay.
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