I was driving home from the thrift store with a bunch of new cloth napkins and looked up at the sky. I almost hit the brakes, because I was splashed with a wave of intense melancholy. The sky looked like a damned Hobie t shirt - it started at dark cadet blue, then faded and segued to deep orange. Silhouetted against this SoCal background were the date palms and crappy one story rental houses that hold more people than their leases allow.

I was struck by the strangeness of being someplace that was distinctly not home. Arizona is a nice place to visit, but I don't want to live here. I crave mud as opposed to dust, and pines as opposed to palms.

I finished driving home and washed all of my new napkins, and made myself some angel hair pasta. My room mate clogged the kitchen sink - the side with the garbage disposal - so I got the added treat of clearing out the drain. It was stuffed with ruby red grapefruit rinds and pulp. While I was completely fucking aggravated that this mess had been left, I was thankful that it wasn't something meat based, which would surely have smelled much worse.

I am considering feeding my room mate to the terrible seething gimletchops. He undoubtedly deserves it.