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DURST: Summer, an Altered State of Mind

Durst writes: "Summer. Barefoot at a barbecue. Sinfully skinny tan lines. Sand under the elastic of your underwear. Men obviously bereft of mirrors naked from the waist up."
 
 
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Summer. Barefoot at a barbecue. Sinfully skinny tan lines. Sand under the elastic of your underwear. Men obviously bereft of mirrors naked from the waist up. Ice cream dripping down the sugar cone onto your fingers. Lemonade so tart it makes your toes pucker. The tinny mantra of a baseball game on an AM radio. Oh sure the solstice ostensibly began at 10:03 am EDT Father's Day, when the sun was at its furthest point from the equator. Solstice: from the Latin for "stand still," featured the longest day of the year. Yes, this may be the astronomical beginning of the season of summer for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, but we're already a goodly way into it's clammy depths. We've just been experiencing that weird cuspal convergence of summer and spring: Sprummer. Because true summer is not a fixed date, it's a state of mind. An altered state of mind. As an adult, it means Memorial Day and the ability to wear white shoes sans impunity not to mention lawn furniture. It means fresh cut grass and the soft stirring of a hammock complete with snoring noises. It means the smell of burning flesh, both from barbecues and the shoulders of the pigmentally challenged at the beach.