Thursday, August 3


Back of My Neck Getting Dirty and Gritty

As my father keeps remind me, I'm no longer a Floridian, but I can enjoy at least a certain smug superiority when considering the way Bloomberg and Co. are running about like chickens with their heads cut off over New York's heatwave. We had a temp of 100 degrees yesterday, which everyone greeted with the sort of reaction reserved in Florida for hurricanes. Admitted, the temp down in the subway on a hot day like this is something awful, but it's no worse than College Avenue in my hometown at the height of August. Still, we Floridians have Florida-strength air conditions to handle our perpetual crisis, and I suppose we New Yorkers have to trade off our quaint brownstones for an electrical system apparently put together by the same folks who rewired Rome back in the days of Marconi.

Anyway, pray for rain (see: St. Swithun). I hope in the next couple of days to post a reply to the recent comments on my little post on the Renaissance, as well as a few thoughts on the fusion, intriguing though not always 100% successful, of Gothic and art deco in a number of church projects of the '30s.

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