"He wore his beard comfortably, like a peasant."

I'm letting my beard grow out. It has lined my face somewhat sparsely for years (I'm proud to say that I both liked Pinback before most people had heard of them and had a beard before it was hip to have one) but has never been allowed to, well, do its own thing. The only thing mind-boggling about my decision is the timing: I've chosen to add a thicker, more insulating layer to a large portion of my face in the middle of one of the worst droughts that Middle Tennessee has ever seen.

It has reached 100 and exceeded this mark substantially almost every day for the last two and a half weeks. It's not supposed to break for another couple of days. From what I understand, it has claimed the lives of seven thus far (elderly or otherwise, this is still considerable). Yesterday afternoon, I was quite sure that it was about to claim my own. As I tramped as softly and bravely as I could out of the air-conditioned bakery just outside of downtown, my shoulder started aching, and the muscle above my left shoulderblade. It throbbed, it hurt to breathe, but I had no choice but to press on. I climbed onto a bus, fearing that I might pass out, and clung for dear life as it careened around the tight corners towards downtown Nashville. As I stumbled to the post office in the Arcade to drop a postcard to a sweetheart, I was struck by the thought that it might be the last thing that I do. I could not feel life slipping out of me; no, I could simply feel it preparing to slip out all at once.

It was intimidating, but I made it through the postcard fiasco; I even made it over to a cafe for a sandwich and pasta salad before locating my bus home. I passed out several times during the brief ride, but I survived.

The adventures never cease, never cease.