Roseville

I spent last Friday driving to the far reaches of Roseville just so my sister can hang out with her boothang. Mikal--my girl, my little bumble bee, my north star in the night sky sat shotgun with me through and through. After dropping my sister off at her boothang's humble abode and after le boothang offered us a mango joint as a token of his gratitude, Mikal and I set off to adventure every seemingly interesting corner of Roseville... but not really. You see, Roseville is like the median for Fremont and Pleasanton. Just like Pleasanton, the city is nicer, cleaner. White people crawling everywhere with diversity left to be desired. But it's just like Fremont in the sense that...it felt like Fremont. The way the stores held their places and the way everyone just went about and the way you didn't seem to know what to do. We remained mostly in the area that resembled the Hub. A nicer Hub. They even had a Barnes and Noble, where Mikal and I spent most of our time browsing, sitting, drinking our coffees, smoking her reds, and talking about the little details of our night. We miss bookstores. We really, really miss bookstores. The smell of unread pages and the slow pace of an aimless browse. At the end of the night, I reunited with the solid fact that all I really need during the pass times is my girl. My girl and some books and our talks...and the meaningless substances that tag along with us.