The sun set on the last day of Spring. It's now a hot summer night. I'm back home. It's always a hot drive on 5 through the San Joaquin Valley. I see the blue of the aqueduct and dream to jump in. In my car I brought with me: Ms Salvia, a chest of drawers for my clothes and a bird's head in a velvet ring box among other things.
I was in SF for a few days longer than I originally planned - but then, I wasn't that surprised with house drama happened and other delightful distractions occurred. I saw some good movies, notably, Shakes the Clown and Napoleon Dynamite. Also saw Coffee and Cigarettes a few weeks ago. I'll write reviews of them in the next few days.
Being up north was somewhat discombobulated. I had no home. I stayed in my house - a jumbled mess with painting and carpeting and then finally finding its personality. I stayed in my old place (and x-boyfriend/roommate's place) in SF. And I stayed in a hotel near Union Square. It's neat to be able to get up and go and stay at any variety of places - the freedom is there. However at the same time it's somewhat ... new ... to not be rooted anywhere. It's a new feeling to be a visitor in your old town. An intimate visitor. As much as I love the bay area, the life I had there, my friends and lovers past and new, my home is south - and that's where I want to be. And here I am. Home again, home again.
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