oh holy shit we’re all gonna die

i can’t believe a mere few years ago that i had hardly any neuroses at all. how things have changed.

today, we’ll focus on my post-katrina problems. it’s weird, but my reaction to 9/11 wasn’t so much fear as anger. i’ve always felt that those assholes had their chance to cause chaos to that extent, and that they’d likely never pull it off again. certainly the last few years have borne me out.

katrina, however, was a different story. mostly, i guess, because of my own region’s vulnerability to environmental catastrophe.

now, don’t get me wrong, i’m no pussy. i’ve lived in this state all my life, and you learn to cope with these things. i slept thru two of the strongest quakes we’ve ever recorded, so that might give you an impression of my superior moral and genetic construction.

but it’s not the earthquake itself that frightens me. because i’m a blockhead. it’s the katrina-esque madness that would follow that scares the bejeezus outta me.

luckily, i live in a neighborhood of sf that’s expected to fare “reasonably” well during the actual quake, due to its foundation of bedrock. and because many in the city deem glen park “the suburbs,” it won’t exactly be ground zero for looting and shit like that (except from me – the safeway a block from my house will definitely help sunnyside residents survive the 72 hours the city has reminded us will be like the lord of the fuckin’ flies in terms of city service and support).

my friend ray just bought a house in san bruno, and because of katrina we decided it will make a good triage center for friends. his place is usually a staging area for burning man, which i’m sure will prove to be good training for the disaster aftermath. apart from the criminal element (we’re currently furiously debating whether or not we should have a shotgun on hand, which his gun-toting fiancee not only supports but insists upon) and fire, i can’t imagine surviving for three days on the peninsula would be more of a challenge than staying alive in the nevada desert for a week.

and what’s funny to me is that most californians who i describe this emergency disaster plan to either look at me with vague admiration or odd revulsion, like i’m talking about setting up wi-fi in my fallout shelter while perfecting my makeshift toilet.

most californians are, of course, in complete denial when it comes to earthquakes. they either have lived here all their life and have become jaded to years of predictions of doom, or haven’t lived here long enough to know how truly terrifying the concept can be. and that denial is crucial to the california economy, and therefor the nation’s. forget a fuckin’ earthquake – the bigger disaster would be if every golden state resident suddenly realized they were sitting on multiple nuclear weapons that can go off anytime, without warning.

just this morning i was talking to a girl at work who had got a good scare yesterday when the iffy elevator here shuddered and threatened to leave her trapped inside. but when i mentioned the chronicle article, she switched to superficial mode and said “i’ve been hearing that crap since i was a little girl,” not realizing that this is what makes it true. the idea that seismologists (some who continue to live here, some who become scared/smart enough to leave) like to tell us that we’re all gonna be fucked someday is misguided, at best.

maybe i’ll start taking the stairs.


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  1. […] while i had just recently stated my views on this matter, i have to admit that the very first thing i thought of was the “ironic” pink fuzzy […]

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