Pound in Town

Last night Becky arrived. We all went to El Tequila for a mighty Minnesota feast. El Tequila is one of the restaurants that make ex-pat Californians like myself cringe. It is supposedly owned and operated by an immigrant family here, but the food tastes anything like authentic Mexican food. Swimming in heavy sour cream and tasteless salsa, this is essentially ground beef dunked in tomato sauce and wrapped in a flour tortilla. Give me my tortas. Give me my chile relleno. Remove this this Tequila Burrito from my vision. It is not welcome here.

But, I ate it. We went to the Seths for awhile, and then Kelly and I went to Kate Clark's opposite party. It was far more low-key than I thought it would be. Basically an intimate affair with a few notable studio art majors from 2005 in a pretty nice apartment by Bridge Square. I enjoyed a delicious mixed drink with pomogranate seeds and gin that Kate made. Most notably, I met Oren, an alum from 2006, and one of the most thoughtful druggies I've ever encountered. This is a man who knows is mind altering substances, especially marijuana. He's been all over the world, sampled all different types of drugs, and has a lot to say on the science and cultural place of drugs in America. Mark Dyson and I found ourselves captivated by what he had to say. It was, frankly, a breath of fresh air from the sheer opulence and saturation that was toking up back home in SoCo.

To go on a bit of a digression, I've been considering the differences in pot culture in Northern California and Southern Minnesota. Don't get me wrong: I love coming back home. Undisputably, Nor Cal is home to some of the finest weed in the world, and smoking is prevalent and largely accepted among different social groups. You've got your experimenting teenagers, your hardcore dealers, your causal 9-to-5ers, and my personal favorite, the burnt out hippie who does it to reconcile that they now program computers. However, there's something about rolling huge blunts, going through half an eighth a day, and bragging about how you can smoke 8 bowls and not feel anything anymore that just seems to defeat the purpose. Minnesota's weed isn't terribly good, and one has to adjust as such. It's far more social here, though it seems to be confined to a smaller section of the general population. I think a lot of that has to do with the proliferation of lab drugs (acid, meth, PCP) that has ruined rural Minnesota.

But, I digress. After KC's party, I met up with Pound et al. at Dad's for about half an hour. We went to bed pretty soon after that. It was a fun night. I always love it when Becky's in town. We get along so well, and I don't think I've met a person who I could get along so easily with.

So, today. I'm going to the cities for a variety of errands with Varsha. Her computer "broke", and by "broke", I actually mean "dropped and a bit of plastic fell off the side, and the ethernet port got a bit dented". It's probably a $150 fix-up job. Instead, the South Asian Sensation is taking this oppurtunity to buy a new MacBook. Afterwards, I'm swinging by David's to have him re-string the sitar. Varsha promised me dinner, so I'll take her up on that offer, and then head back to Northfield for some fun at Annie's.

Comps is not on the radar.