And because Santa Cruz is a sweet small town relatively unravaged by Orange County-ification and class wars, I can sleep out on my front porch. Immunological repair takes place only when you sleep, and what could be finer than breathing the good night air? My neighbors have all seen me in my nightgown. There is an amazing ontological security in living in a place where you see kids playing in the street with their pet goat. It's not for nothing I call my little bungalow "", after Thomas Mann's TB sanitarium.

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