If You’re Ever in San Francisco.

The Leverett winter formal was Sunday night; consequently I slept through all my engagements on Monday and can’t sleep in time for Tuesday. [The formal, by the way, answers the question “Why should we have a House system?” Enough people attended to encourage drinking and dancing but it was small enough that ever recognized everyone else. Also, it made me feel like a rock star when repeatedly asked how my date Stephen — whom I purchased at the House auction a few weeks ago for fifty-three dollars American — and I were doing. The scotch helped me feel like a rock star, too.]

So to pass the time, I’ve started investigating fares to San Francisco. But as I have few funds at my disposal, I’m limited to American Airlines. You see, I was in no hurry to go to Missouri earlier this April, and gladly slept in the Chicago airport a few hours for a two hundred fifty dollar travel voucher rather than take my seat on an over-sold flight to Springfield, MO. They even bought me lunch. And I enjoyed the travel-worn old-man at the bar aesthetic perhaps too much. I read Mallory at a microbrew. The beer was bad; the poetry was comparatively good, possibly because I’ve always wanted to be Sir Gareth. But knights aside, I’m planning to visit Daniel and Monica. Danny, you will remember, is our brave soldier down at Fort Bennings; Monica, or Moica to family, is Danny’s older sister. [She takes care of me from time to time, too.] And Moica lives and works in San Francisco. Then there are my family members who populate the surrounding areas to the north of the city. [It is the north, isn’t it? Grandma, I leave it to you to keep me honest.] I’d like to stop by and check in with them if I can.

In times like these past, I would make a composite image of satellite photography to accentuate and discern funny land features. But Google Earth makes things like that so easy, that it’s spoiled the charm. I like to get in the nitty-gritty and play with each of the bands myself. I haven’t made a good map in sometime now, though there has been some talk about a tattoo of Indonesia lately. But I’m not of the sort who takes tattoos.

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