So the meat delivery guys have started talking to me. We usually just exchange nods as we pass, like we're coworkers or something. I guess, in a way, we are. But this is a sign that it's time to move on. I'll probably keep doing it though, since I seem to keep walking the same beat and I think I have lots more to learn in Chinatown.

You should experience San Francisco's Chinatown early in the morning on Saturdays. I don't know if they deliver meat every day, but on Saturdays there's a two-block section where its all trucks - their back gates open wide - stacked high with pig corpses.

My real coworkers no longer ask, "What's up with all the dead pigs?" I have no answer that would mean much of anything to anyone. But, here's the truth as best as I can express it: it's horrible and beautiful.

Alex, who likes to instant message me with random Simpson's quotes, will usually follow up a visit to my site with a simple, "Hmmmm.... pork snouts."