Tagged With: San Francisco
love neighborhood
Last night, turning onto my street around midnight, I passed a guy wearing a Cal hat, a whistle on a string and nothing else. He seemed undistressed so we exchanged smiles and moved on.
At Dr. V’s birthday dinner at Shabu House
Girl with enormous eyes, as I put on my motorcycle suit: Do you motocross? Me: Nah, I just passenge on his bike. [Indicating Gene.] Girl: Oh. Well…can I take a picture with you? Me: …Sure? [We pose and her friend snaps the shot.] Do you want to just wear the gear? Girl, breathless: Oh, could … Continue reading
Women at Bus Stops
One tugs and tugs at her tunic-length top to cover a perfect behind. One wears a scowl, hunched shoulders and a cheerful turquoise bandana. One wears a new outfit and sits up straight, talking to an older man who seems to be holding his breath when he looks at her. One turns her back to … Continue reading
Kids: Still Endangered
The Chron is still doing its thing, I see. Today’s winner: a story about parents who accidentally kill their kids by forgetting to take them out of the car. And second prize goes to a headline: “Father Allegedly Tortured Infant Son.” I can just see the Chron reporters’ weekly staff meeting. “Okay, Father’s Day is … Continue reading
Office
I went to the zoo this morning in search of someplace quiet to work but I guess I picked the wrong day because it was swarming with kids. At the zoo! That’s the last time I buy a chocolate bar from one of those “keep kids off the streets” programs. If they’re on the streets, … Continue reading
Fly Ride
On the F, I sat near a father and his young son. “How about that car?” the little boy said, pointing out the window. “Yeah,” his father agreed. “That car is all about going zip and zoom.” The little boy frowned, then asked, “But is it reliable?”
Silence and noise
My favorite writing cafe is being overrun by Brits lately. I don’t know where they’re coming from; it’s like an ant invasion. You can see the flood but can’t figure out how to stem it. Dear Brits: you are all very well in your place (i.e. Britain) but I find your sexy-swoony accents distracting when … Continue reading
Free lunch
The intersection at Market, Noe and 16th smells like fifth-grade lunch: chocolate milk, wet cardboard and a faint whiff of peanut butter. Maddeningly, the wind is swirling like a cyclone today, making it impossible to track this lunch-shadow to its source.
The Tuesday alarm
Every Tuesday at noon a siren wails across a series of speakers placed on street corners throughout San Francisco. And every Tuesday at noon, for as many months as this has been going on, I jump out of my fucking skin. “This is a test,” the robotic announcement says, following the siren. “This is a … Continue reading
Hot
It’s roasting in San Francisco, sweltering in our apartment. In twenty minutes I’ll be sprawled in Dolores Park consuming smelly cheeses and clandestine beer, but in the meantime I’m here, absorbed in studying the way I abandon myself to this heat. I sit with one leg curled under me, the other bent against my chest, … Continue reading