When I read articles in the Times or the New Yorker or some other fancy magazine about summer in the city, they usually describe a mass exodus, a diaspora, of Gotham’s residents to points east and northwest. They then go on to detail how crowded the scene is at the Hamptons or the Hudson Valley or anywhere but the Jersey shore and isn’t it a pity all these places have become so spoiled. A few hardy souls describe what it’s like to live in a supposedly uninhabited city (in fact, only uninhabited by their ritzy peers). For them, the city is like one of those post-nuclear holocaust movies or the Twilight Zone episode where there’s only one man left in the world (he’s always wished he had more time to read, and now he’s surrounded by millions of books but, irony of ironies, his glasses are broken).

May I speak frankly? (Has anyone ever replied no to this question?) I don’t move in the same circles as these writers. For me life continues pretty much unchanged except that I turn on the air-conditioner instead of my sound soother (four different soothing sounds: summer night, "cicadas and crickets," seaside waves, rain, "the steady drops of nature’s best sound muffler," and my favorite, babbling brook). Still, while the rest of the world has been burning up, New York and (reportedly) San Francisco have been enjoying unseasonably clement weather.

I thought it would be edifying to describe some summer activities within, or indeed inside, walking distance of my apartment:

The Hudson waterfront and piers attract numerous joggers, rollerbladers, fast walkers (often carrying heavy-hand weights) and now people on those little scooters (scootering?), all of them exercising along the river. I never see anyone skate-boarding, but then the crowd tends to be a little old for that. Going back and forth, and then back and forth again, along the river is a good, clean, dull way to spend your summer. I do it myself.

A lot of people don’t bother to exercise. They amble up the piers gobbling ice cream while it melts and drips onto their T-shirts which usually sport slogans about slamming something, extreme limits, taking it to the edge, or putting it in your face.

There’s also:

Miniature Golf: looks cool, haven’t tried it, but will.

Ditto para-sailing.

Kayaking is probably the best thing to do on the river, and it’s free! The Downtown Boathouse, staffed by volunteers, on Pier 26 has 20 kayaks which they make available to the public. When I tried it for the first time I found it extremely simple and very satisfying. It’s just as you would imagine: dip in one end of the paddle, then the other. Call ahead for hours: 212-385-2790. And don’t be a cheapskate. Leave a couple of bucks .

Activities away from the waterfront:

Knowing or being somebody with access to a roof, preferably with a garden, a hammock and BBQ. Looking up at the scanty stars of Manhattan and swinging on a hammock, while watching the embers fade on the grill can lend the most banal conversation real depth.

Take a siesta for chrissakes.

Indoor pools are fun; there’s one on Carmine street. Nothing like standing in a crowded pool and feeling a pleasantly warm stream make its way between your legs.

Sitting inside with a good book and the AC on full blast because there’s too much smog outside. I keep away the guilt by reminding myself that it’s dangerous to go outside. Videos are also good, and don’t forget that ordering up food is Sine Qua Non.

Getting really drunk at an outdoor café on those sweet, girly, unsophisticated, slushy, drinks like frozen strawberry margaritas. I remember as a boy reading something in a detective novel which made a great impression on me. The protagonist is approached by an appropriately grizzled bartender who tells him "it may not make you cooler, but if you drink enough you’ll forget the heat."

Enjoy a little time off from your shrink. Most of them migrate south or to California at this time of year. But don’t forget to get their emergency number.

This last one is a bit of a stretch because I suppose you could do it just about anytime of the year, but I only do it in the summer: Walk to Washington Square Park and watch people getting screwed playing speed chess for money. I learned my lesson a long time ago. No matter how much more time you have than they do to make your moves, you will lose. As my friend once said, "it doesn’t matter how much time you have on the clock: They’re using your time to think."

As far as I’m concerned, summer pretty much, well, I was going to say sucks, but stinks is actually a much more accurate word. I’ve listed a few of things you can do to make it bearable. Why people, especially those without summer homes, like it is beyond me. Thank God for fall. But I’ll save my raptures for another column.