Palo Alto / Cruiser

At around 4pm, the Stan­ford cam­pus is always filled with run­ners, cyclists, and ath­letes in car­di­nal red. I appre­ci­ate this, and yet, at the same time, I feel like I'm run­ning among high­ly-intel­li­gent pod-peo­ple who have sin­is­ter inten­tions beneath benign good looks and have assumed the forms of innocu­ous, white-bread ath­let­ic types in order to Blend In. I imag­ine that they detach their low­er jaws and con­sume god knows what when my back is turned, and per­haps some­day I will stum­ble upon a fly­ing saucer deliv­er­ing giant eggs. As always, this run was sus­pi­cious­ly uneventful.