August 7, 2007, I went out for tapas and sangria in the Mission with Gerardo and spoke over two hours in broken Spanish. We finished-up the night at Café Flore at his suggestion where it was 2for1 margaritas night, and we sat on the sidewalk on a relatively warm evening where he told me he wanted to broaden his circle of friends to people who loved the theater, vanguard film and café-life. I hadn’t been to Café Flore since Jim whose last name I forget had outted me to the previous owners as an inspector for the city agency that licenses food and drink establishments – and they suddenly wanted to give me free coffee. I was just a little drunk when I arrived home – and I told Eddie how overwhelmed I was at work and Eddie reminded me not to jump every time someone wanted something – and he used the word “deflect” to suggest a better approach to dealing with work and people. A few days prior I returned from an excursion north to Chico which contrary to its reputation is not a town but a city with 1,000 charming cottages set among oak and black walnut trees, and surprisingly nothing else deserving of praise except for its hot weather which I found agreeable. Its downtown, adjacent to the university, is dull and surprisingly without even a taqueria. Outside of Chico is a non-pedestrian-friendly resort area, and I use the word resort loosely, of Paradise which isn’t paradise but a small hill crowded with pine trees, small homes, bible schools, gun dealers and restaurants serving lousy Mexican food. Needless to say, I was glad to get back to San Francisco where Eddie suggested we take an excursion to the California desert. So we have planned a week in Palm Springs which does feel like a town – a real resort town - full of trashy people who probably drink too much, but ah, that desert sun, makes everything one does appear to be so life-sustaining, ha.