The Baked Potato of Gratification

Sometimes life in Sonoma County is good. I love my job. This is either in spite of, or because of the fact that I spend four hours a day playing Pied Piper to fourteen wildly creative, destructive, irrational, spirited little seven and eight year olds. Jayden receives a finger in the eye because he took Damitri's 3 foot length of red yarn. Jennifer breaks down bawling at least twice a day and is fond of slamming doors and having last words. Well laid plans are blown to pieces. Art projects explode like suicide bombers with tempra paint filled trousers. Community circles turn into witchhunts. Pint-sized inquisitors condeming each-other to the rack. Peers excommunicating their own, innocent lives cast in shadow over juice box politics and then, miraculously, they are thrust back in the sunshine of good favor for a well-timed mouth fart. But I digress. The following is a collection of stuff that makes life here interesting or great or both. Small notes included when necessary, but otherwise I'll try to leave it bare for viewing enjoyment.

Part I: Close to Home

We have been staying at an Extended Stay America for the past two months, and have no intention of leaving, though there would be a handful of good reasons to do so. There is no end to sketchy individuals living here. They loom over railings, exhaling eels of cigarette smoke and staring predator-like into the parking lot, the natural hunting ground of the sketchbeast. Our neighbor, for instance, recently developed an ingenous plan for avoiding his mandatory room inspection.

Latin American immigrants find work in construction or agriculture. Each morning there are 12-30 fellows waiting patiently outside the corner store, prostitute-like, for some big contractor or vineyard owner to roll up and give them some bucks for a few hours work.

I am why the chicken(s) crossed the road.

The Nortenos (red) would like to make it clear to any Soreno (blue) upstart mother-fucker that this strip of concrete belongs to them exclusively.

Ice cream and Mexican treat carts prowl the streets in search of children.

Part II: The Laura Factor

I would otherwise not leave the house. Thank you Lo Bo.

Part III: AmeriCorps Retreat, Asilomar Conference Grounds, Monterey

Part IV: Monterey Bay Aquarium

Gang of One

Watch out gangs of Santa Rosa! I'm watching you! Rather, I am angrily observing the chicken scratch aborted feti of your early morning graffito-tag adventures! As a mid-sized town dwelling Midwesterner for most of my life, I can appreciate some graffiti, don't get me wrong. But around those parts, the wall writing is typically of the amusingly infantile variety (dew-rag topped Kindergartner with a can of Krylon) "Todd iz a FAG!", the politically naive variety (jean and skirt wearing, black sweater bedecked riot-grrrl) "Stop all War!", or the stale posing gang banging variety "BG EeeZtuh Sydahs 4eva!" At any rate, I have hithertofore never lived in a place where I had to consider the presence of gang bangers in my daily life. For example, the other early morning I was set to take the Biscuit out on a nice run. So I threw on my favorite track pants. My favorite workout hoodie. Step outside, start stretching, look down, fuck, I am wearing all blue! Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, cap in ass, feet in tha air, another homie who died too soon, takin' a bullet for tha' hood. There are two major Latino gangs in Santa Rosa. The Nortenos and the Surenos, or, the Northerners and the Southerners respectively. My problem with these gangs starts with their names. Perhaps I'm a romanticist, but shouldn't your gang name strike fear in the hearts of all? How about the razor blade spider-monkeys? The contusionists? The Deadly Dead-Makers? Bathe in Blood? One-Thousand Paper Cuts Brigade? So, my first point is that they are simply unimaginative. Second, and a problem with all gangs, is that they selfishly seize an entire color, not a block, not a building, not a garage on the corner of Mendicino and E. 8th st., but an entire goddamn color! How is this possible? Why may I not walk the streets of Santa Rosa in my POPC 2009 shirt? Should not some other, more reliable gang marking be chosen in which we could all agree would be best for those involved? Why not just identify each other by lame-ass tattoos, of which you already have many? The circumference and shine of ones rims? The starchiness of ones Dickies? The lowness of ones ass relative the ground whilst riding a bicycle? Anyway, this rant comes from two places. One, from my role as an educator of young ones which seems to have imbued me with an uncharacteristic passion to "protect children," whatever the hell that means. Simple put, I think it's a shame that kids grow up in this shit. Second, the other day some huge gang marking went up kiddy-corner from my apartment, spread out real big on the fence of an apartment complex. They are hitting me where I live. Let's take a look at the corner of Corby and Hearn. Ok. So the Nortenos have claimed Corby as part of their territory, and wants the world to know. Great. Could you at least make this declaration visually appealing? Hell, when I make a sign for my 3rd graders I put a little spice on it. Lost and Found sign with a little Link holding up the tri-force for example. Some creativity wouldn't kill you, nor would a little more can control. Here's some more randomness from a few blocks surrounding my residence.

There is also someone called "LAW" who is hitting all the billboards along 101N. LAW is really prolific, I'll see something new by this person every few days, and he/she hits really visible and hard to reach targets. Moreover, it's actually nice looking, not just some scrawl. I appreciate that.

So. My advice to gang bangers in sum. You need to re-brand yourselves for the 21st century. Think about a name that conveys what it is that makes your brand unique. Do your members have unusually muscular forearms? Drive decidedly low low-riders? Walk with limpier limps than the competition? Also, could your gang name resonate more deeply with today's audience? Be bold. Be violent. Be wacky. A mascot would be a nice touch as well. The 8th street cocker spaniel killers. West Side Wombatzz? Finally, put some polish on your tags. Many community colleges offer low-cost art courses for example. A striking and colorful tag would be much for effective in delineating your little territory, and would be more memorable for today's already brand saturated consumer.