August Inventory

Late August is when the light changes and you start noticing what’s actually clicking and what’s dead weight. Summer’s still officially here but everyone’s mentally already packing.

Some things suddenly made sense that month: sangria, curry ketchup, wading through old magazines like they were newly released. Weezer. Taking a bike ride instead of sitting in a room thinking about it. Making a mixtape even though nobody makes mixtapes anymore. Fishing. Your best friend—the one who’ll look at whatever weird thing you’re obsessed with and just get it. Leaving a party to walk around outside. The strange loyalty of phone sex. Japanese snacks. Rocko’s Modern Life reruns.

And there was the sex stuff. The internet had changed everything. You’d end up next to some girl from online and you’d both be awake at 3 AM with nothing to say. Or next to someone beautiful and all you wanted was to talk. Friends would get strange. Accidents happened that weren’t supposed to. Someone would put stickers on their breasts and ask you to photograph it and somehow that felt like the truest thing that happened all week.

The stuff that was dying: Justin Bieber (though people wouldn’t let him go), money worries (the kind that never actually leave), just being tired in your head. Ambient sexism. The vegan friend who claims principles but wants roast pork with dumplings. Nuclear power. Slayer sounding worse than before. Fall coming. Your own cynicism. Being actually sick after faking it.

By the end of August you knew which things would stick around and which were about to disappear. Summer doesn’t announce itself leaving. It just gradually gets colder.