San Francisco

The third guy used to say hi to me a lot, but ever since I told him I didn’t have money when he knocked on my door at 11 pm, he hasn’t really been all that friendly.

It’s the communities that are going on in the electronic alleys that I find valuable.  It’s those places where I can catch my breath, unplug from all the information overload, and recharge with real conversations.

I took the tram to work today instead of biking. And it was autumn. Walking around slowed me down. The city came into focus and I saw stuff I had forgotten – flower stands and commuters in coats, coffee shops and steam from the sewers, idled cars and the blinking restaurant

The bus alternated between the clean Pacific air and the fetidity of cracked souls. The mist fuzzed the windows. The bright neon of peekaboo nude shows blurred against the orange glow of wine bars and taquerias.

And the light. I love the afternoon light dancing. Amongst leaves. Between hills. Off windows.

I love the fact that I live close to all these streets named after ladies of the night. Back in olden times (that’s a technical term), the area were known for streetwalkers and other broken winged angels that Kerouac probably saw during his visits here. Now, the area is