It’s cold. Too damn cold. I have to wear shoes, a sweater, a sweatshirt, a long sleve shirt, another long sleve shirt, an undershirt, a hat, pants, and if I had it, I’d put on more. It’s a bitter wind that hunts you down, finds your every weakness and pennetrates the strongest seal… it’s cold.

…

I put on my pants, sweater, and shoes… I walk down to campus to get some dinner. The sky is clear, the wind has died, I begin to sweat. … I’m sweating. I’m hot. The hike up the hill is taxing. Where is the Berkeley Chill – what is this trick.