CIA * MIA

Odd vanity license plate, and yet there it was, driven by some (understandably) non-CIA looking middle aged lady, coming into Sebastopol from the East. Hah, the Spell Check suggests Sevastopol. I will consider that, Spell Check. Perhaps initiating some civic initiative towards that end. Real-estate agencies and civic institutions might then be able to market this place as the precarious outpost of high prices, retired people, and a civic government bent on petrifying expansion and pretending we are like Europe (we are not) by licensing wine bars and encouraging pedestrians. Other benefits to living in one of two cities in America with a Green Party majority on the city council include:

-the installation of multiple new pedestrian crossings with signals, sidewalks extended further into the street, blind people crossing awareness foot dealies, and a guaranteed sense of shame one feels when the cars stop just by virtue of your standing near the damn thing (this happens often).

-A police force that implores both hybrid cars in it's fleet and solar power in it's headquarters. Jerks can't buy my goodwill with carbon credits, but I'm assuming that's what's up here. They're still jerks, as of my finishing this sentence, though I am open to hear their side of things.. Any cops reading? Oh, right, cops don't read.

-I'm not really sure what to fill this third bracket with, I should pay more attention to where I'm living. Writing this has been an eye opener.

In other news, I am on my own for dinner. I am thinking drive through burrito. The volume on my computer keeps fluctuating, it's really unbearable, I'm having to listen to records. My default with this much rain and a shirt this dirty (I was unaware until after it was on) is to just put on The Idiot, and that's exactly what happened. Then I got mad rutty with the cheese the guy painting my dad's house gave me, and I thought I liked Tiny Girls a lot.

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School was pretty Tokay (thanks for that suggestion too, Spell Check). Class consisted of the usual series of draining rhetorical questions that were at best silly and amusing, and at worst inscrutable. Afterwards, I stood for a minute to talk to somebody from high school. Then there was some girl in neon green stockings and a light blue dress talking to a guy with long hair and a dress shirt tucked into pretty tight jeans. Clearly evolving his style into something, but as it was it just all seemed more stuffy than any given classroom this time of year. I guess that's probably where they both came from or were going, but still. They clean interrupted the conversation, and when we returned it was necessarily about neon stockings. I then walked to my car wondering if what I was feeling at the bottom of my foot was coldness or wetness, I don't usually wear these shoes. This was in the CD player (finally working again) that I was thankful for. Burning CDs in the morning is the gift that keeps on giving.

Farolito Santa Rosa, I wish your chips weren't so salty, and I didn't occasionally find cartilage in your carnitas. Otherwise you are a rough provincial approximation of the mission burrito and therefore the only Mexican food worth eating in this county. And the drive through? Pure genius. Living in the future is living alone, preferably by vehicle... Unless it's just in constant search of water.

My shoes are still on, and the ambiguously wet or cold feeling is real, folks.


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That's the exit for burritos. It is also where I am certain I have seen battered poor people emerge from when riding my bike in that area. Invisible suburban poverty is sad when you think about it (yes it is). It is in no way connected with my acquiring a burrito by way of a twenty mile drive from my house. And besides, I saw some workers out there cutting all that excess grass by the side of highway 12 earlier this week. That has to be a good thing for those people, I'm sure.