For the past week or so the entire city has been blanketed in an unshakable haze. For the first few days I thought it was my contacts that were the problem: that I was overdue to change them and they were beginning to get cloudy, making everything happen in soft focus. Then one morning I walked out of the apartment and the air was so thick with moisture I could see my breath.

If you had asked me, before I moved here, whether I thought of Los Angeles as the kind of place that could be described as “damp” I would have said no. After this week, though, I’m beginning to re-evaluate that assumption. Each morning when I walk out the the van it is covered in a layer of dew. Every evening when I emerge from class and walk to the parking lot the air is so thick with moisture that halos form around all the light fixtures.

Cinematic? Yes. Pleasant? No.

The weather reporters describe this weather as “fog” but I’m hesitant to go that far with it. Fog strikes me as the kind of dense, low moisture that requires overcast skies whereas this present humidity never seems to burn off under the bright sunlight of day. I find myself conflicted between the impulse to hibernate because of the damp and the impulse to go outside and be active because of the sun. Not that either impulse is the kind of thing I can act upon right now.

This fogginess of the weather seems to reflect a fogginess of the mind too: on some levels I’m moving along each day with perfect clarity and on other levels everything seems out of focus.



~ by Gwydhar Gebien on February 6, 2015.

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