From the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library here in Sultry, Savannah, this is obscure season

for, in American tragedy, I am your host, your friend, your ear lover, your literary

mans planer in chief and Georgianologist Mike Lee in black international man of misery

returned from the old world to the new, now residing for the next hour and a half in

Savannah, Georgia.

I'm on my way to Denver, today I've been home for a couple days, I have a flight to catch,

I'm heading off to Denver to do the state reunion show and not a moment too soon because

my God, the reason one leaves, Savannah, particularly in the summers because of the heat and you

forget just how physical the heat is, it is an oppression, it is a kind of madness here.

Yesterday it was so warm, you could smell it, I don't know if that makes sense, but you

could smell the heat, it's not that the city itself was scented, it's that it seemed to

me that the heat, the hotness, had in odor, that may have just been the water in the year

of which is considerable, the humidity as I'm sure you know is profound.

And yet, and yet, I don't mind it, as odd as that sounds, because I'm mostly inside

and then, and I'll take the doggies out for a walk, we'll go out there, we'll sweat it

up a little bit, come back into the air conditioning, it's fine, I keep forgetting that the heat

actually is fine, because you're not in it that much, and one thing that Savannah has,

that London does not, plenty of air conditioning and ice, God, they're skimpy with their ice

in Europe, it's like they, it's like they just don't even have ice making technology

or something, I don't know why, I don't know why they're so opposed to frozen water

in the old world, I don't know if they think it's too bourgeois, I don't know what they

think, but my God, you ask for, you ask for a couple of ice cubes, or you mean you couldn't

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