Don't Breathe Too Much

Everyone is a tad anxious in the Bay Area. It's the the atmospheric effects caused by the smoke of nearly a thousand fires caused by nearly 10,000 lightening bolts (Jove's making overtime). The sun has taken on an orangey salmon and dim quality, much like autumn. Only it's the beginning of summer. One can't help thinking that somehow we've been transported out of time, biologically out of tune with the seasons. Three months have vanished in a span of hours.

The stinging eyes and inability to breathe deeply doesn't help to stem the rising fear, either. Escaping the sweet thick smell of dead, burning trees is impossible. You wake up with it in your face, your hair, your clothes. It's at work, in the climate controlled bathrooms, conference rooms. It's filtered into every niche and crevice of our lives. And the authorities have made some futile public service announcement to shut the windows against the air pollution.

Earlier in the week, we were on edge from the fluctuating temperatures. Sweltering, broiling one day, chilled the next. Now the skies look like Pompeii and the air is viscous. Everyone I talk to comments nervously about the environment now that the tangible reality is literally in the air we try to choke down. What are we going to be facing when the fire season peaks in a few months with all the drought-dried brush lying around like so much tinder under a heretic's feet?

H2O, Shit

Took a little bit of a break because, well, researching the projected long-term scenarios of global warming tends to be depressing/ overwhelming/ soul withering.

However, you've no doubt read the media-saturated alarum these past few weeks about the escalating water crisis. It's behind the droughts in Western United States, Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, the UK, Spain, Pakistan, Libya, South Africa, India, Australia, Philippines, yadda yadda... pretty much anywhere that's below, let's say, 55° north, except for most of the tropical rainforests. So where's all the water going? To the pendulum swing of rampant flooding in Chile, Midwestern United States, Germany, and China.

It's all part of the fun new unpredictable precipitation patterns, which we can only assume will continue to fall in extremes: too much here, not enough there. A stable water source is the lynch pin to the infrastructure of society (remember learning in 4th grade about the ancient river valley civilizations? Roman aqueducts?). So you can see why quite a few people are worried, especially now that society has become a lumbering behemoth with a momentum difficult to control. Ah, bureaucracy.

Yet it's really hard to take a step back to see the larger picture. Living in drought-ridden California, I wouldn't have known about what seems to be a dire situation--enough for Arnold to call for the largest reductions of water usage in state history. I'm still able to wash my hair. Do the dishes (theoretically). Water the plants. So how bad could it really be if we had to ration, i.e., use our resources conscientiously? Would that just mean less showers? No flushing? Or are we going to start racing around on motorbikes in bondage gear, searching and killing for precious, dwindling supplies? Are we facing the end of luxury or systemic collapse? I don't know if we can rely on the journalists to tell us exactly what to expect. Perhaps no one really knows.

Addendum: If I wonder at the emergency of the drought, I can't scoff at the damage being done by its counterpart, or as my friend said, that house now belongs to the Snorkles:

Doom and Gloom

So this isn't directly related to catastrophic climate change, but we could use some levity around here.

Jove's Been a Little Busy This Past Weekend

Tornado season has officially begun, pummeling the mid-western states thoroughly and incessantly for the past few days, decimating homes and killing people throughout Colorado, Oklahoma, Iowa, Kansas, Wyoming, and Minnesota. The National Weather service reports that with over a thousand twisters sightings and a hundred people killed, this season already proves to be the deadliest of the past decade (and we still have several more months to go). Here's raw footage of the horrifyingly monolithic wedge tornado that devastated parts of Colorado: Makes you want to pee yourself a little bit, doesn't it?

And our friends south of the equator aren't having a much better time of it. Or rather, they have it much, much worse. Torrential rains in Chile, while repleting the dwindling water reserves in the hydroelectric dams, have caused hellacious, rampant flooding, as will tend to happen when five months of rains falls in eight hours, thus glutting seven major rivers past their banks. Roadways, bridges, and railroads have collapsed, effectively cutting the country in half, and about 15,000 people have been displaced due to mudslides and rivers that now run through their homes. Ironically, all this much needed water has served to cut drinking water supplies by mucking up the treatment plants. Water, water everywhere...

Speaking of which, not only has China been by a series of aftershocks, they're also now expecting rains of biblical proportion to quite probably flood the landslide-created lakes throughout the devastated areas.

Like I've said, it's been a busy weekend.

Jove Is Pissed

Yesterday, the skies opened upon California and shed forth a dismal glimpse into the future of accelerated climate change. Flash floods. Jovial electrical storms (funny to think that the more popular connotations means "happy, exuberant" as Jupiter was thought to exert beneficial influence upon the earth, yet it is also the planet of massive, never-ending storms, always brooding. I wonder if ancient astronomers had an inkling just how apropos the eponymy was for the turbulent gas giant considering their thunderous god of the skies). Freak tornadoes derailing trains. Snow storms past their season. And, of course, the wild fires blazing through mountain forests and homes.
Addendum: You can smell the smokey sweet vanilla incense of the Santa Cruz Mountains throughout downtown San Francisco.