Monday, December 22, 2003

Mister, Can You Tell Me Where My Love Has Gone?

I was at the Home Depot in Gilroy, where they stack two-by-fours and pickaxes and other mining equipment two stories high, when it occurred to me that Home Depot would be the worst place to be during an earthquake. Toppling, tumbling, sharp things pinning people here and there.

I got to the checkout lane, though, and everybody else was talking about earthquakes. [confusion] Outside, a ton of car alarms were going off. [weirdness]

I called Mom and asked her what was up. Apparently, about when I was thinking about earthquakes, a 6.5 temblor rolled through Cambria and San Simeon. People felt it as far north as San Francisco and as far south as Los Angeles. I made a beeline for Costco to look at digital cameras, but scores of Christmas shoppers were gathered around the TV displays, just like people are always gathered around store display TVs whenever a natural disaster happens or the presidential addresses the nation or JFK gets assassinated. They were all watching a special report about the Cambria earthquake. [Pretty much the only time Cambria’s made national news, I’ll bet.] Why did I think about earthquakes right before one shook most of central California? Obviously, I have ESP. But there’s still a chance I somehow just barely noticed the shaking — a gentle rolling motion, Twyla says, that lasted about 45 seconds — and got thrown just slightly off balance and then subconsciously remembered every other earthquake I’ve ever been in. Or something.

[Hollister, California: earthquake capital of the world. And the only place where people don’t give a damn how much the earth moves under our feet.]

I got a roll of film developed. Odds and ends: Andy’s apartment, Cory and me driving from Hollister back to I.V., and Halloween. Me, the non-Japanese Crazy 88, and Kami the slutty flamingo (slutmingo?).

Kami's from Cambria. I should give her a call and find out if anything fell on her. Let’s hear it for aftershocks.