I am in Huntington Beach, California and thus California Dreaming. Or at least living the dream that is Orange County—a bastion of white, Hispanic, and Vietnamese wealth, power, and privilege. The Bentley now stands outside the small townhouse where once (fifteen years ago) there stood a cheap American car driven by old people, now dead. The hue of colors at the pier is vast–although, thankfully, there are still young ladies in bikinis (of all hue) on roller-blades bedecking the streets. As my son once said: “Dad, no man should be enabled to fall in love so often during a mere walk down the street.” (more…)
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