I got back to San Diego late last night, parked the rental car at Enterprise and threw the keys in the dropbox. The drive wasn’t bad, though I probably didn’t need to stop at both Pea Soup Andersen’s and Bravo Farms. Maybe it’s simply because I grew up in one, but I can never turn down those tourist hellholes.
From Andersen’s I picked up a Blob, a piece of shortbread topped with a swirl of whipped cream and enrobed in chocolate. The construction of such a confection defies belief, since surely the cream must collapse under the weight and temperature of the liquid chocolate, but somehow the thing holds its shape.
If I were putting this on a menu I would call it literally anything but a “Blob.”
If you’ve never driven the 5 North through Kettleman City you may not know the name Bravo Farms, and even if you have driven it you may not have any idea what it is. Nestled somewhere north of LA but before the Grapevine lies a wooden castle dead set on becoming a tourist destination despite possessing no attributes of which to boast. The promise of AC inside the fortress’s walls is the primary selling point emblazoned on their many billboards posted along the highway. (Sample slogan: ʙʀᴀᴠᴏ ꜰᴀʀᴍꜱ: ᴀ ᴄᴏᴏʟ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ.)
But Bravo Farms (aka Bravoland) does in fact boast a number of genuine attractions, two of which in particular vie for the weary traveler’s attention. The food is reliably excellent and on this particular drive the Cobb wrap with tri-tip saved my life after traversing the Grapevine unfed. But on the castle’s mezzanine level, after taking in a performance by the barbershop quartet of animatronic roadkill, the discerning antiquarian will find no end of desert ephemera which the unenlightened urbanite may dismiss as mere “junk,” such as empty beer cans ($5.00), discarded license plates ($15.00), lightly used corks ($25.00) or the slightly damp cardboard packaging of a six-pack of Coke bottles ($16.50). If among these offerings you find yourself on the losing end of the timeless axiom about one man’s treasure, worry not, for Bravoland will always provide further riches for those willing to dig:
Only $59.50!
Anyway, I’ve been in the process of building a new PC for recording music and editing video for well over a year or two now. On the rare occasion I have money to spare, I can never bring myself to actually spend it on something which only directly benefits me. But over time and largely thanks to the generosity of my loved ones who wish to support me (thanks, Bill!) I’ve managed to amass nearly all the components Russell and I laid out to satisfy my needs. All the remained were the CPU and motherboard, and given the ongoing situation in the Strait of Hormuz as well as the skyrocketing costs of certain components as a result of the AI bubble (thankfully I had the foresight to buy my RAM very early in the process) I figured I might as well pull the trigger and get those last couple pieces. The CPU, of course, arrived while I was in Berkeley, so I had Russell bring in my mail. Coincidentally, he wasn’t scheduled to work on my first day back, so we planned on using the afternoon to put the beast together.
But of course, Russell got called into work. I’d have built the computer myself but he had my CPU, so we’ve rescheduled for Wednesday.
Today’s card: the Seven of Pentacles, a card representing patience, cultivation, and a return on hard work, but with Saturn in Taurus and Netzach in Assiah the forecast turns toward “unprofitable speculation and employment, promises of success unfulfilled, disappointment.”
Unprofitable employment came knocking immediately in the form of a phone call offering an unpaid gig at a train station tonight. I’ve been jokingly calling 2026 my Year of Yes in which I never turn down an opportunity, but after getting back last night this was one promise of success I had to leave unfulfilled.
A year ago a girl was flirting with me and insisted on mapping my natal chart to know our compatibility, the results of which led her to tell me I must not know my correct birth time. (My mother has always insisted it was 1:00 p.m., on the dot.) She plugged my apparently incorrect data into Co-Star and ever since I’ve received a weekly horoscope alongside all the other spam in my inbox. I haven’t unsubscribed mostly out of laziness but also partly because somehow this digital summary of my fates feels like its own little method of digital divination.
I’m not really “into” tarot or astrology, but like fortune cookies or the I Ching, they offer opportunities for our brains’ pattern-seeking circuitry to seek insights into our own futures. And let’s be honest, I could use all the guidance I can find.
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