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trace of chill
Monday, November 9 1998
a lyric from Guided by Voices:
"She wants me to come but I'm never going there."
(what I take to be Bob Pollard's bitter twist of AC/DC's "She told me to come but I was already there.")
I was very functional at work; my productivity was enormously boosted by the ruthless precision of my team of robots (which are designed to work with each other as well as with me).
I bought my lunch of cheeseburgers down at the In&Out near the Mission Valley branch of Bank of America. I like In&Out because the staff are so unusually pleasant and seemingly intelligent. They look and talk like middle-class college students and part of the reason I like going there is to try to figure out what exactly is wrong with these people that they need to earn their money in a burger joint. For some reason internally I have the overly-humble feeling that if I can get a good job, hell, anybody should be able to.
The skies were clear and blue today but there was a distinct chill to the air. Temperature-wise, it has always felt like autumn here in San Diego. But today it seemed to go a step further, towards whatever winter is like here. I looked at the Cottonwoods along the San Diego River and wondered if their gradually browning leaves will ever fall off.
At night Kim and I closed up our windows and put on extra layers of clothes. The cabana has no heating system and, for this reason and many others, it's a good thing we'll only be living here for three more days.
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