She lives in Atascadero now. That’s less an hour’s drive from Isla Vista. I should go see her when I get back. I wonder if she’s still with that guy.
Good ol' Meg.
It bothers me just a little that the kids in my program have such a different perception of contemporary culture as I do. I guess people in Santa Barbara see a different side of stuff as kids in Davis, but as usual I assume I’m the one who has the problem and what I like is some weird little divergence from normal culture. Megan — not the one I took to Winter Ball or the one from the movies — tried to classify my style as “scrubby, preppy.” Eh? As much as I shy from group affiliations, my look, my actions, my taste in all things artistic most surely fall into that post-alt catch-all called “indie,” a stupid name for sure, and a subculture I seriously doubt anybody on this program would recognize.
Jessica would recognize it. When I think about her all I forget all about Megan — any of them. I wonder what she’s doing now. Didn’t she say she’d be local around now? I wonder if she realized I stole the Goldfrapp and Kings of Leon CDs from her office.
Shit. This couldn’t have less to do with London.
Of course, no matter how much of the countryside I see, this whole trip is totally more about me than it is about England. Should it be odd that I have trouble logging anything relevant in such a dynamic period in my life? Maybe the novelty’s worn off, which would be good in some ways. The mulleted but oddly attractive French woman who works at Café Deco recognizes me in the morning and I don’t even have to ask for what I want — croissant aux apricot — before she fetches me one. And it now seems perfectly logical to see the titles of songs my parents listened to as the destinations of buses.
A place that seemed as far away as China or the moon is now painfully near.
Winding your way down on Baker Street,
Light in your head and dead on your feet.
Well, another crazy day,
You’ll drink the night away
And forget about everything.
This city desert makes you feel so cold,
It’s got so many people but it’s got no soul,
And it’s taken you so long
to find out you were wrong
When you thought it held everything.
You used to think that it was so easy,
You used to say that it was so easy,
But you’re tryin’, you’re tryin’ now.
Another year and then you’d be happy,
Just one more year and then you’d be happy,
But you’re cryin’, you’re cryin’ now.