San Francisco

I love the crazies – they're mostly the harmless, mumbling gobbledeegook types, but then there are the rancid aggressive alcoholic types too.

In any case, I think living in the basement has really gone to my head.  There is no light and so it is pitch black when I "wake up"

In New York, the only blackout we had was the emergency, what-the-fuck, governmental failure type.  There, people sweated in subways and unventilated offices.  Here, they lounged on the grass.

My reference point for a city comes from Curious George's adventures – how he swung about a throbbing hive full of primary colors, of window washers, kids with balloons, playful fountains and men with newspapers.

In the meantime, it's not so much fun borrow Candice's laptop, particularly when she has a lot of work and I need to look for jobs. But at least I get to learn my way around a Mac (pretty darn good, I have to say).

So now what? What now, in a town where the weather drops twenty degrees at night? Where a fat girl with purple hair walks by a desolate guy who may or may not be homeless strolling along with a backpack on his shoulders in front of a pink house...