But here on the East Coast it is too hot for people to do anything but get angry, and so muggy you can see the air. I feel like I’m in equatorial Africa. Every night, like clockwork, the clouds gather and there is a massive thunder and lightning storm. And then in the morning the sky is clear and the cement begins to bake again. Last night, over Philadelphia, the clockwork storm was apocalyptic. Water dripped in through the ceiling of my cousin’s apartment. The street outside turned into a river. There were booms and cracks and sizzles. The sky was like a strobe light. And shortly after midnight, a man wearing nothing but shorts ran madly past the window. He was very wet.