I can still see Alcatraz, but it’s not quite the same.
“Wait a minute,” you’re saying to yourselves, “you can’t see Alcatraz from the Mission.”
Yes, you’re right: my new place is not in fact in the Mission, it’s in the…..wait for it…Marina.
“But,” you continue, “you blogged about how much you liked the Mission. And, isn’t the Marina where we’ve quarantined all those yuppies and their BMWs?”
Yes, on both counts. Hey, you’re 3 for 3. So, I’m posting the explanation I gave to my friend Jessica with the hope that it will keep me from having to explain it to everyone who asks me where I’m living and happens to know anything about me.
Here it goes:
Me: i do
Me: but i hate myself as well
Jessica: sad
Me: yes
Me: i decided that work considerations superceded social/cultural ones
Me: and i decided that the shuttle was a better way to get to work than caltrain
Me: and i decided that all the people i knew were closer to the marina than hayes valley
Jessica: i get my haircut there
Jessica: i thought you should know that
Me: shit, ive made the wrong decision!
But, not to worry. In the past 8 years, I haven’t lived anywhere longer than 12 months. And, I don’t plan to start now.
P.S. To compensate for surrounding myself with such homogeneity in one of the most diverse cities in the country, I plan to befriend all 117 african-americans in my new neighborhood.
P.P.S. In case you didn’t figure it out, the above P.S. is a joke meant to call attention to the fact that in 2000 the US Census Bureau found the population of my new Zip Code to be 0.5% “Black or African American.”