It's just that I had to make my way to North County to find it. Whereas South Bay is the intelligence-and-culture vacuum in which I currently reside - the area between downtown San Diego and Tijuana, North County is the area north of San Diego. I've been informed that this is where the artistic, intelligent, creative folks all tend to reside. (But remember, we've got the nail salons and tattoo parlors!)
Last night, I made my way 45 miles north to join a writer's group that I stumbled onto on Meetup.com. I'm not going to say too much about them, since I'm not really prone to smooching tuckus, but I will say it was an extremely pleasant change to meet with writers who seemed to have voices of their own, who sought honest criticism (and got it!), and who accepted it pretty graciously. Plus we all seemed to come from out of the same pool of interests (yeah, geeks, but literate, functional geeks).
I'm more curious about North County. What is it - the water? What is it about that place that keeps you people up there? Can't we get a sort of international exchange program going on? How about some of you artistic sorts come down here to this cultural third world and bring a sort of artistic care package? ("This is an oil painting. It's painted on canvas." "Oooo!") Maybe you could do a USO show. ("This is clog dancing!" "Really? When do I take my clothes off?")
I doubt that this will happen, so I comfort myself with the thought that every few weeks, I'll get to pack up the laptop, some paperwork, and drive 90+ miles round trip to spend several hours with some writers of like minds. But, you know, I'm the guy that used to drive 150 miles, round trip, to Memphis every 2 weeks to get comic books. I'm sure they understand - and I suspect they'll know I can't wait.
So, to all you up there in North Bay, to all you everywhere, to Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the ships at sea, I'm sending this dispatch from deep in the cultural apocalypse that is South Bay. Back to you, Ted.