Marc: So how did the meeting go?
me: It was fine, boring, didn't have to kill anyone. I was a bit late, though, because I got distracted by a big sign that said "TORTILLAS". Painted right on the building! "TORTILLAS!" I got excited and missed the library.
Marc: I'm not sure anyone has called the tortilla excuse for that purpose before.
me: Well it was pretty amazing.
4pm: drove home from the east side, windows down to enjoy the heat, Black Sabbath blaring. I took in the whitewashed buildings, tumbleweeds against the sides of the liquor stores, cracked mud and date palms, shuffling old men. Someone in a low rider hooted at me when I leaned out the window to see around the layer of dust and bug on my windshield. I felt a sudden surge of affection for the dusty town, for the expanse of lonely roads like spokes into the desert. I feel like that kid in Arizona again.
10am: In Trader Joes I grabbed jars of curries, chutney, fancy peanut butter, frozen greek food. The clerk examining my ID for the liquor winked at me, "Why Bakersfield?" I put my hand over my eyes and jabbed randomly at the counter. He laughed and said, "I can't tell you how many people have told me they've done the same thing." City of wanderers. Maybe this will be okay.
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