27 June 2006

I'm pretty sure I'm forgetting something crucial...

25 June 2006


This is a birds-eye shot (-ish) of day one of preparations for Hippie Road Trip 2006. Functional digi pending, pictures to follow.

Lessons I learned today?

One - don't ever store your zip-off pant legs separate from their zippered shorts. You might find yourself with with only one leg, and pondering whether or not you want to wear the old ones with the moss stain/streak on the ass...

Two- never assume that REI will have anything!!! especially maps. and ponchos. and watches that cost less than $30. jerks.

Three- never assume that online stores will be able to fulfill your needs...turns out you can't buy a good poncho and Mary Jane Farms Black Bean Hummus in the same place at the same time. Nor can you buy a map of the Sinkyone Wilderness anywhere. Boo. AND shipping is expensive.

Oh! And it's hard to find violin strings on a Sunday in SF. Who knew? Basically this was a day of shopping for stuff and not buying anything (except for at Sports Basement, which we love.)

But it was also Pride. Yet another example of San Francisco's institutionalized public drunkenness; something New York has yet to really embrace. And it's hard to be too pissed off about shopping woes when overwhelmed by the amazingly beautiful and incredible ethnic/ social/ economic/ gender/ sexual (/not so political) diversity that exists on the streets of San Francisco.

06 June 2006

Feels Like Home to Me

Biking home from band practice I take a wrong turn through Golden Gate Park (stoopid museum construction detours!) then hit a bump and lose my rear light. On the unlit (‘cept my headlight) mid-park road I pause to grab the blinker and reassess my directional decision. A car cruises by and slows ever so slightly. As I give him (or her?) my best “fuck-you-motherfucker-I-fought-off-a-mugger-in-Bed-Stuy” look I realize that this is what makes San Francisco San Francisco for me – biking, fiddle on my back, not sure where I’m going, letting a bit of New York slip out.

A few blocks later I’m home, I park the bike in the garage (ah, SF) and then discover that my flat’s front door is wide fucking open. Who knows how long it’s been like that, but I shut it, assuming that the last one out of my housemate’s meditation study group left it ajar, or that it's part of some spiritual cleansing that should be stopped. But I ask, and it seems that, in fact, he just forgot to shut it while forgetting to water the very, very sad fuchsia hanging by the door. But no one in the neighborhood seems to have noticed the oversight, and all is well.

And so it goes. Creepy date today, no? Too bad that movie ruined it.

p.s. I went to New York this weekend. More on that, with some pictures, soon.