I am in Palm Springs now, visiting my folks. I've actually been here for a week and a day...

It's been kinda nice so far, with the warm temps, comfy bed, and parents stuffing me with food and drink. And they've been very supportive, too, which is just what I needed, feeling all kinds of desolute and unworthy after two months of unemployment and general malaise in the city.

I still really want to love San Francisco. But it just doesn't seem to be loving me so much right now. It's like we've (SF and I) already had the passionate sex and rock 'n roll lifestyle when we were dating in our early 20's, but now we're coming to terms with how we should deal with each other as adults. And as everyone knows, being an adult sucks ass. Little does my mistress SF know, I'd really be quite fine with the passionate sex and rock 'n roll lifestyle--i just also want to have a respectable career in writing and be able to afford snooty dinners and Napa Valley weekends from time to time. Actually, at this point, i'd be happy affording the occasional burrito in the Mission. I am so depressed.

Well, so... this is why I made the trek down to PS: I am forever freezing my ass off in the Sunset district, I do not yet have a solid source of income, and I do not have enough funds to enjoy myself whilst unemployed like the rest of the musician fuckers in the city. It's tiring.

And so... the parents are putting up with my all-day pajama parties and liquor cabinet raids, and I am subject to their weird desert lifestyle and conservative boomer musings. And their completely untrained Rottweilers. And their gardeners and UPS guys who hit on me.

No, i am not complaining. Could you just get me more ice, please? Thanks.

Cue the porno music.