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Doing the Man Cave Boogie

March 9, 2015

Horn was cursed. Wherever he went in Santa Cruz, he remembered another building, and other people. His entire reason for living here was evaporating. He walked along Pleasure Point to do his surf check. He passed vacant house after house. They were McMansions that replaced beach shacks from the first wave of dot-comers in the mid-nineties, who purchased the properties at ridiculously high prices to build their dream house. Then when the dot-com boom pooped out, and they lost their jobs, the whined about their high assessment rates, which were high because they purchased the property in the high six-figure range, and eventually moved, or divorced each other, then sold their dream house, which was scooped up buy a richer person, who used it as a rental or their third or fourth house to keep their tax rates low, or whatever rich people do that they say they don’t do to avoid paying their fair share of anything, Well, now there was a second wave of Silicon Valley coming into Santa Cruz, and this was the second generation of the first wave of idiots that ruined the surf spots and the neighborhoods. They were people who didn’t sacrifice their time to surf, but who surfed because they could afford to surf. They were the children of the idiots, primed with disposable income, and who had no value for money because they had never been affected by the first bust. And they were buying and tearing down house, and he knew the tech industry would take another dump, and they leave it would leave a second reef of houses that would one day be vacant, and either used for a couple weeks in the summer, or be watched all year by their au pair who had to feed their Labrador retriever Plucky. And slowly, the very rich who no one sees but hears having a good time, will possess the shoreline, and with that, would try to take steps by either gating areas, parking permits, making streets one way, to prevent people from enjoying their beach. Possession is ten tenths of the law. Slowly each Silicon Valley wave was destroying what he liked about Santa Cruz, and replaced it with their habitat. Somehow with all these ants on a sugar cube, Hron had to find a way not to see their backs but the sugar cube and have their useless face staring at his ass.

The music plays, I reach up, Arms extend, drawing all in, so no one can make me doubt or reject or dismiss the dreams I see that they lost focused on a long time to ago so they could achieve perspective.

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