Run-on sentences are my very favorite thing

I'm sitting here in my new apartment on a quiet Memorial Day weekend, my new apartment with the tan carpet and the tan walls and the white doors and trim and kitchen and the gold cabinet knobs and the 60s architecture and style, the spotlessly clean apartment that won't stay so for long with Thing 1 and Thing 2 beginning to poke their way into everything while shedding hair hair HAIR into every crevice, and I find that though the apartment is in no way sound absorbent (I'm looking forward to learning more about my new upstairs neighbor, Miss Squeaky Bed), it seems to be thought absorbent. I haven't hung my few pictures or started to put in my own furniture (soon to be purchased from Ikea when I'm back on regular cash flow after this expensive move and consequent loss of a week's pay, plus broken down car and consequent car rental) and so the apartment is an empty canvas and it's giving me a blockage. This apartment needs salad.

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.
  • Current Mood: runned-on
I happened upon your entry when I browsing through Markedformetal's friends, and I saw Martinez. Holy shit, I thought to myself, someone else actually lives *here*. Weird.

I recently moved here because I happen to work in the godforsaken Admin building. Perhaps you've seen it, seeing as how it's a twelve story building in a town where nothing else is over four.

So what brings you to this fair city?
I moved to CA for a job. I was hunting all over the East Bay for apartments. I took an apartment in Martinez because:

1) It makes my commute easier, and
2) I was tired of apartment hunting and this was the first decent apartment I could get, even if there are trains every three seconds.
I'm sure you'll easily adjust to the trains. Usually, it's just the same really, really long train.

I was told, after I moved here, about the excitement of refinery emergencies when everyone has to close their windows and not leave their homes. This apparently failed once when all the windows near the refinery were blown out anyway.

You'd think that at least gas would be somewhat cheaper.

There are a number of nice parks around, including the Marina, which I'm rather fond of. Still, I have an irrational fear of cancer from the refineries that I just don't seem to be able to shake.

If you stay here for any period of time you will, of course, have to learn to play bocce.
I was warned about the refineries as well, but the Martinez residents I spoke with all pooh-pooh'd that stating that they'd lived in Martinez x number of years and had no trouble EXCEPT FOR THAT ONE TIME.

Well, I lived near refineries outside New Orleans once upon a time and who wants to live forever anyway.

My landlady plays bocce, so she tells me. I'll probably ride my bike down to the marina today and see what's what.
Yes. That One Time. I've heard of it too.

Here are the historical highlights, as far as I know them:

Birthplace of Joe Dimaggio. Very, very strong Italian American heritage throughout town (thus bocce)

Birthplace of John Muir. (Oh, the irony of the refineries!)

Possible birthplace of the Martini (I looked into this once and it seemed very doubtful. The drink might have been named after the town, but I don't think it was invented here.)

Weird criminal justice elements always seem to happen. Lacy Peterson was found in here. The Susan Polk trial is currently going on -- we had a media circus for a while, but it seems to have stopped.

Hope you had a great Memorial Day -- the weather is gorgeous!
Yes, I had seen the historical highlights here and there but hadn't researched the recent history. This may prove to be an interesting town.

The weather is gorgeous and I'm taking my bike out in it to get some pictures.

Hope you enjoy your day as well.
Okay, I'm friending you because I think I need the perspective of a new person on my town. I've worked here for three years now and I'm sick to death of the four sandwich shops downtown.

So bring on the fresh perspective!
Great! Hope you don't mind if I add you back.

It's entirely likely that I will bring a different perspective in describing Martinez. It may not be what you expect, but one never knows, does one.

I've only been to the Subway in town and I want to go to the sushi place. Maybe I will, today, since I realized, while I was trundling through Albertson's last night, that my cookware is either given away or still packed in a box on its way to me.

I also realized once again that I hate electric stoves. I almost said cook-stove but they don't speak that way here, I don't reckon.
No, that's totally cool.

The sushi place downtown is really good (not that I'm an expert, but it's worth going). They're a little slow at lunch, but not too terrible. The Chinese is acceptable, but nothing terrific.

I live on Alhambra so I usually end up at the Safeway, not Albertson's.

It's very rare to find a gas stove in a rental around here. Sigh. I hate electric stoves too.

I love train whistles. Although I have not been tested with trains every three seconds.
I used to hear the freights rolling along outside my bedroom window as a child and so the trains now are a familiar, comforting sound. I really don't mind them that much even though they are very close and pass very often.
Ah purple mountains, that sounds wonderful. And ikea? Fantastic! Hmm..Reno..the birthplace of Delores Vancartie' from Sister Act :P
And I have so many questions and assume they will all be answered in good time.

Any chance of apartment pictures? I remember when I first met you on LJ that you had the most wonderful photographs of your road home through snow.