vitamins and minerals.

I have several unrelated and uninteresting things to say, mostly for my own remembrance's sake:

• The New York Times published an interesting story about Roberto Bolano and the possible elements of autobiography in his work. They also assert that Bolano was not actually there during the Pinochet coup. Interesting if you've read his books (which are amazing. and you should.): roaming groups of poets.
• I think I believe in fate to a point, and that at some certain point, free will takes over. The day after the election (or maybe it was a few days after, I don't remember the specifics), there was a huge gay rights protest in West L.A., which stopped all the buses. I had to walk the two miles home from school to Brentwood at about 7 PM. On Wilshire at the 405, a team of SWAT guys were sitting on the curb, and I turned around to try to cross the street. All the sudden, this guy almost bumped into me from behind. It was strange, running into a pedestrian on Wilshire. People don't walk on Wilshire, but the buses had poured pedestrians out onto the sidewalks. Anyway, so I started talking to this guy as we walked down Wilshire, we spoke about the protests and how long we'd been in LA. And it's not like it was a sudden realization, but I noticed he was a very attractive guy, with those deep brown eyes I always stupidly fall for and short chestnut hair, tall, very Jewish looking (sadly, this is my type). I shrugged it off, we both got calls on our cell phones, and we went our separate ways.
  
• Today at the bus stop, I caught the glance of the same guy. We both did double-takes like we almost knew each other, but then he kept walking and I kept sitting. When we got on the bus, he sat down next to me even though there were plenty of seats around me. But then, get this, he doesn't say a word. I started to think, maybe I should say something about our odd night on Wilshire, maybe not. Then by the time I figured how to say it in the least awkward way, I realized that the amount of time it had taken me to figure it out would have made it seem like I had been thinking about it the whole time he'd been sitting next to me with his arm brushing mine (which was true), and then that would be creepy. (Like this retelling of the events isn't.) Regardless, I looked down at my sweater and remembered I had been wearing the same one that night. And he was wearing the same striped sweatshirt he had been wearing that night too.
  
• Even if that isn't fated (obviously it isn't otherwise one of us would have said something), even though he only finally spoke to me as I was leaving the bus, I still just like that things like this can happen. It reminds me that there is some order to things, or at the very least affinities between people that last regardless of all the other clutter.
  
• My friends and I are road tripping for Spring Break. There is a winery made of caves up north, and I plan on getting trashed in one of them. :)