drawn to mars by love

I remember the first period of time I spent in Tucson...horrible. Actually, the first time I was there was back in 1978, as a thirteen-year old, and I think I spent some time hanging out of a sunroof while someone drove the streets of the city. That one doesn't count. 'Period of time' was actually in 1993 when I first went down to visit Sarah after she moved back from England. The city was hot, dusty, hot, tumble-weedy, dirty, dusty, hot and hot...we stayed at a La Quinta out on I-10. I remember waking up about 6am and deciding to walk across the parking lot to the Denny's for a coffee to go. No worries, Sarah will sleep until 3pm if you don't rustle her, and I had no intention of waiting for that bag-o-bones to get up. Anyway, I open the door (at 6am) and it's a million degrees out. Literally. Who lives like that? Who? The trip was nice because we were together, but I remember thinking "this place is horrible, I'd never live here...". Of course, if the opportunity would have been there (it never was...) I would have moved down in a heartbeat. Back to the story. As the trips to Tucson piled up, I found myself sorting out the city and knowing that I'd have no problem living there, and here's why: the things I need....live music venues, a good record store, a good bookstore, some scenery, a decent place to live, and an excellent grocery store. In order in Tucson: Plush, Hear's and Zip's, Bookmans, Mt. Lemon, Civano homes out West, and Wild Oats. Shhh...yes, and Sarah. Stay with me, please. There was a time when I needed a good barber but my clippers and my vanity have been powerful and have waned, respectively. You see, it's not much one needs...a focused core of important things. For the last twelve years I've begun to rapidly develop ideas for where I could live, and in the end, it could be anywhere. It's nothing but a rabbit trail and eventually you'll sort out the the important stuff. Which brings me to the District and thereabouts. I'll take the easy route and not type it over again: Iota and the 9:30 Club, [fill in the blank], the Bay, N. Park Dr., and Whole Foods/TJs. Shhh...yes, and what's-her-face. (Ducking.) Throw in a job down the road and public transit and I see I've gotten to a point where setting foot somewhere isn't even necessary. At some point, it all sorts. Maybe it's people, maybe it's place, maybe it's both. Actually, it's people and where they are....but it's nice to know everything else will fall in order. You aren't there for nothing, you're there because that's where there is. The District or the river of Monks, either would be fine. Morning to all... x