14-3/2. I wake up at 5.35 am to the sound of a huge truck passing our house. No that’s not right, I live in a residential street and there are no trucks here. My mattress is laying on the floor and I feel it vibrating and the windows rattling, I sense the walls moving. It reminds me of laying in a tent and someone is obnoxiously shaking it to wake me up, only that this is a brick house. I wake up at 5.35 am to an earthquake.
It takes me some seconds to pull myself out of bubblestage into consciousness and that’s when I remember two dear friends that gave me shelter when I arrived in this city talking about their emergency plan in case an über-earthquake hits the city. The plan involved running up a hill before everything collapses. I’ve never been in an earthquake so I have no idea if this one is a building-collapsor, so I do what I often do when I have no clue: rely on people who should know better. That is, people who lived in this city longer than me since they get a hell lot of earthquakes. Noone’s moving and I am fascinated by this bizarre thing. After 15 seconds the earth goes to sleep again. I decide to do the same. (I know earthquakes are evil and destructive and such, but I was excited and am not having this discussion now.)
14-4. Shopping for the first presents for my friends back home. I go to a wonderful bar with outside patio that I’m really sad to have discovered only know. We eat chocolate and talk about how we’re going to change the education system by forcing every high school student to spent a year doing something else before going to university.
14-5. I get insulted based on my skin color for the first time in my life. More presents bought, I picture my tiny suitcase that I just bought from a chinese dollarshop and will have to send myself a package. I am part of an art installation.
Listen to The Sumner Brothers and Said the Whale.
14-6. I light a cigarette in what must be America’s only smoker’s bar and feel awkward. I am so used to the outsourcing of smokers that I constantly expect someone to tell me off.
14-7. My last day at my wonderful work. These past two months have given me so much orientation and passion and confidence that I will finally pursue my dream in the second attempt.
Random poet-gathering on the plaza of Mission & 16th.
14-8. Two options: A. Spend the last weekend in the city and pour everyone I meet a Margarita with the bottle of Tequila a new friend gave me. See a dear friend one last time for her birthday. See naked people ride their bikes. B. Drive 9 hours. Camp in Death Valley and see the desert in bloom. Learn how to cook mexican food on a camping stove. Pour Margaritas for my three friends. Do nothing in the sun. Drive 9 hours back.
Everyone who has spent more than 2 seconds with me knows how I feel about decisions. But this one is giving me an exceptionally hard time. Everyone except for one person tells me to stay in the city.
I you don’t hear back from me I probably got lost in the desert. I don’t want to jinx it. Talk to you all on monday!