104 degrees today; the last time I was in an atmosphere of this temperature I was three heartbeats from my fever sinking in teeth that had become deadly. Back then, in the Emergency Room, they submerged me in a tub of ice water and jammed a tube into my nose and choked it down my throat to pump my stomach of the sick blood that had distended it.

Today, here, 104 is just...how it is.

The horseflies are visible crawling on surfaces from 200 paces. They look like black holes twitching about, settling on a place to begin devouring the world; they look like spider's nightmares.

When I entered my hotel room, the Bible was already open. Never a good sign for the suicidal. It lay there showing me the book of Psalms, 11-14, Psalms to the chief Musician: "If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?"

In other words, it doesn't matter how long you hop if you don't have a leg to stand on.

I closed the Psalms. I held the book with the spine to the desk and exhaled. I let the pages fall open where thy will be done.

The Book brought me to Job 6:7 -- "Mine eye shall no more see good."

Ah, fuck.

And tomorrow, they're predicting 109.

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