Friday, February 26, 2010
Yeah. I don't quite believe it either but I tell you what, sometimes you just gotta get the hell outta Dodge (and by Dodge, I mean Asheville - clever!) and also sometimes, occasionally you (and by you, I mean me) have an awesome relative who has recently moved to said mythical city of San Francisco who will give you a plane ticket. So I am going to San Francisco. I am currently attempting to decide the necessity of the putting of the flowers in the hair, because, like, if it's totally customary and stuff I guess you have to, otherwise, you know, forget it.
I haven't been on a plane since before 9/11 and I wasn't exactly what you'd call a frequent flyer then. This is because I am unearthly deathly terrified of flying but, well, my desire to get out of here for a while has successfully trumped that fear. Also, I'm not giving myself time to think about it, work myself into a frenzy and refuse to go: I'm just going to leave on either Wednesday night or Thursday morning and fly. This is why, after all, god invented drugs and honey, I got a prescription and I know how to use it. Also, they have bloody marys on planes. I can do this. I will do this. And I am going to do this.
I know nothing whatsoever about San Francisco except that everyone seems to like it. I have been to California exactly once before and I was seven, then, so it is possible that both California and I have changed a bit over the intervening years. When I think of San Francisco, first that damn song comes on in the back of my brain and then I get a montage of Rice-A-Roni TV commercials from the 60s playing in the foreground. Oh wait, and those Armistead Maupin novels! I read those! How are the discos doing?
Anyway. We will return you to your regularly scheduled blog sometime this weekend but in the meantime, let me just say, I AM GOING TO FUCKING SAN FRANCISCO, Y'ALL, NEXT WEEK!