I'm rather emotionally taken lately (last year or so). It's been fucking tragic, yano? In oh, so many ways.
I think the most tragic is being out here in Ukiah. This place really sucks in so many ways all on it's own that it's its own tragedy just in and of itself.
I mean, how many places on Earth would you think *run* on growing pot? Geez, they even had a law here until last year that protected anyone growing under twenty-five plants for *any* reason. You would think they would be in favor of legalization, no? No.
The folks here are *really* into 'healthy living' except that the food they consider 'healthy' is what smells like rotted fish and various forms of pasty balls with warm undressed salad (can't call those vegetables anything *near* cooked).
And of course, the interesting items I found relating to people's health were completely panned by the yokels since it violated their religious tenets (pointing out that, for example, radionuclides have no RDA, no matter how you get them, violated their belief that tobacco was harmful). They also paid little attention to the mercury in soda, especially the rude fat dumbshit nerd I met who sucks them down like water and who walks about like a living advertisement for mercury poisoning, and his mother who deals with his 'problems' as if it were a mental condition--which it is, but which she is convinced is permanent (probably will be). The PERC in baby formula likewise was ignored. I guess it's only 'dangerous' if it's corporate (seems to be one of the themes here, that 'hand/home made' is somehow superior, which it can be, of course, in the 'hands' of experts).
I can see how Jim Jones and Charlie Manson found it so easy to bring new recruits in from the local population. Gullible sheep for the most part hereabouts, looking for a shepherd.
I'm dreaming of pizza and BBQ (I figure that in a metropolitan area like San Francisco, the local misuse of the term will be overridden by the derision that would ensue from trying to call 'grilled' meat 'bar-b-queued'.
I'm spending hours on 'Craigslist' and 'Trulia' looking at apartments and houses in the Bay.
I hope it works out. I swear I'd never really appreciated the Lounge Lizards' "That Godforsaken Hellhole I Call Home" until I ended up here. Then there's JHC&t4HotA (right theme, wrong state):
Connecticut's for fucking
That's all there is to do.
I love to listen to classic rock
and have sex with you.
Doing hole shots at the mall
Writing Ozzy on a wall
Watch the corn get tall
There's nothing else to do at all.
Goin' where we always go
Doin' what we always do
Waitin' to turn into the people
We are bound to turn into.
What else do other people do?
I hope it works out, as I said, since I've pretty much decided I enjoy living alone enough that I don't have anyone here to fuck, so I just do the hole shots. That might change, since at least the women in SF won't have some reason that they live in Ukiah. They all tell me how much they prefer life out here to life in town. I've listened to all of their fearful reasons and come to think that perhaps folks in the city really benefit greatly from having someplace like this that the paranoid nutjob morons *prefer* to live.
Perhaps if there were something to do other than leave the house and go to somewhere *else* and drink, I might go do it.
I dream of the MOMA, and the iMAX, and the Apple Store. I think about bookstores with *books* in them (books I want to read), that I can get to in under three hours and for less than fifty dollars.
I remember restaurants. I used to go out to eat at places I liked to go to. I have only found one here that I really *want* to go back to (the Himalayan). Some are good enough that I will go back to them, but most of them taste remarkably less interesting than junk food from fast food joints (which I tend to go to), and likely less healthy (cleanliness may not be next to godliness, but it sure is a far piece from disease). For instance, I love to eat gyros, so I eat at Spiros sometimes when they are open (one of the other 'features' of being out here is that people aren't open a lot, like the Post Office, which isn't open on weekends). They are remarkably poor quality gyros, but they are the only ones for at least fifty miles, and that, only from eleven to four m-f.
I'm looking a lot at transportation maps of SF. I want to make certain that I get someplace that has the 'OWL' (all night long transportation), if I live on the peninsula (looking more and more likely, especially after looking at places in the Haight). Maybe I'll go all the way west and live near Ocean Beach, so I'll have the sea-breeze blowing fresh off the Pacific.
Geez. I dunno.
In any event, I probably won't be sitting there, drinking too much, and looking at maps of there, there.
Here, it's hard to drink enough to forget I'm still here.
It's getting on summer. It will soon be close to 110º outside (43º for you internationals). The races are started at the race track, and it's coming on helicopter season (lots of FLIR flyover stuff looking for pot growers). If I don't make it out of here by the Pumpkin Festival (yeah, they're famous for pot and wine so they make a festival for pumpkins and apples).
It really is like that movie, "Idiocracy" in so many ways that it would be funny if I were reporting on it from SF.
Reporting on it locally, it's not a comedy. It's too early to start drinking, and my big-screen monitor broke, so maybe I'll got to the movie theater (my big-screen was a better quality presentation than the movie theater up until it broke).
Here, I have to figure out which monitor to buy by looking at the listings on the web sites.
There, there are *stores* (big buildings full of merchandise that *aren't* WalMart).
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