Thursday, September 24, 2015
The Sun, That Bastard
The object of the game for me is to remain in the shade as much as possible whenever we’re on location. Today it was Chatsworth, deep in the valley, where the sun rules supreme and unchallenged, abides by no boundaries, knows no restrictions, sneaking into all corners and nooks, beating at us from all angles. Even when we think we’re safe from the light, the heat comes at us from all sides. I find it difficult to understand people in the heat, and perhaps even more difficult to make them understand me. My thoughts become incomprehensible and jumbled even to me, as portions of my brain shut down in some sort of sad and futile protest. The sun is not my friend, and proves this by damaging my light skin whenever we’re near each other. Of course without it, we’d all die – there’s that. It’s like a rich uncle who pays your rent but then stops by to beat you every morning. Today the sun followed me into the men’s room and had its way with me, leaving its mark on all my exposed skin, claiming me as its bitch.