I live in a bubble
14 May 2008 at 8:08 pm

I go through this every year at this time, with the substance abuse and the apathy and the manic episodes and the ill-advised choices.

It occurs to me, as it sit here past midnight, but unable to go to sleep because I have my Whitestripes doing their business, that you might not know what it means to live in Santa Barbara. It still shocks me that I live here, here, this is where people come to end their lives, and I�m just living mine, just starting it, really, I�m realizing. This is what it means to live in Santa Barbara:

You might be 17 or 23 or 36 or 40; you are or were a bartender here; as a result, you know my bar, and therefore, you know who I am. You surf; as a result, you know my other business without actually realizing it goes on here. You live or have spent a good chunk of time at a co-op. You don�t know the average market value of a dozen eggs, either because you have your own chickens or you just don't know the value of a dollar. You have a lot of money, are about to come into a lot of money, or are a remarkably diligent employee with multiple employers. You know at least two drug dealers, and at least one of them is a friend. You recognize that life comes with a certain romance, but cloud your judgment with sex. You�re willing to throw away yesterday for today, but will never give up tomorrow for right now, unless there�s a free Jaeger shot involved. You don�t understand what a dollar will actually get you. You just kind of pretend that the current federal government isn�t actually happening.

That might be anywhere, but I love it here. I might stay forever.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.