I want to write more about this vast empty country I just drove through. I want to write about the huge purple mountains in Nevada, with clouds crashing into them, possibly causing earthquakes amongst the homes of the Yeti or Sasquatch who almost certainly live there. I want to write about how fatigue can change your entire outlook about a place and how, at one in the morning, with two cats yowling to use the bathroom in my back seat, Reno and Sparks Nevada can look like the shittiest rat holes with the biggest electric bill if one were to keep track of shitty rat holes and which used the most electricity, and how I would have preferred to stay in one of the ghost towns over on the eastern side of Nevada that were more clearly marked on my map than some still working towns strangely enough, ghost towns like Henry and Deeth (the latter of which I could see clearly from I-80).
I have to write about my new home of Martinez, California. It has a good bit of history to it if you look at Wikipedia, and the refineries down the way are begging to be photographed, as is the waterfront my apartment looks out on. It sounds like a good thing to do on a quiet Memorial Day weekend.