California Kid

I should be speeding eastward in my car, never to see California again. But I'm not.

I just experienced the strongest earthquake of my eight years in Southern California.

I'd like to be able to tell you the exact magnitude, but the latimes.com server is down. My cell phone doesn't work, either. Hmm.

Around 11:41, the quake gently shook my apartment with just a few tremors, like a whale frolicking with a sailboat at sea.

I paid no mind, choosing instead to listen to the Counting Crows' new version of "Rain King" from their Live at Soho album, which came out on iTunes last week. If you like CC and you like Bruce Springsteen, spend the best dollar of your whole month on this download. Adam Duritz and company somehow seamlessly blend the lyrics from "Thunder Road" into the melody of "Rain King." This version has been kicking around for seven years or so, but this is the highest quality I've heard on the internet. The Boss would be proud.

So I kept listening. 10 seconds later I realized the tremors were not dissipating, but increasing, both in frequency and strength. I watched my books on a cinder block bookcase shimmy back and forth like children in bumper cars.

Yet I stayed in my apartment. On the second floor. Not that I failed to act, though. I leaped to my feet and held on to my flat screen TV to keep it from falling.

Once the quake subsided, I remembered that it's Tuesday -- street cleaning day. So I went outside and moved my car onto my driveway, thus placing it directly underneath my second floor apartment. Five minutes after a large earthquake.

My survival instinct is no longer triggered by impressive earthquakes. I am more concerned with material things and avoiding contact with the police than I am with my own personal safety. I chose to blog about these shortcomings.

I think I've become an official Californian. I might run for governor next time.