a weekend

It's been such nice weather in San Francisco - the summer, the indian summer, two months of pure delightfulness and then the cold backlash of damp rain that never pours just envelops. But later for that shit. I took a walk around Noe Valley on Saturday just to get out of the house. I considered heading to Ocean Beach, but didn't feel up to the bike ride that would've entailed and I didn't really want to take a streetcar all that way either. So I walked up Church St. to 24th and turned left and walked to Castro St. where I took another left and started climbing up into the hills. Around a corner after the first steep crest I saw these flowers. I've never seen anything like them. I continued on, getting winded from the hot still-winded day. It seemed to me that I was in one of those snow globes, except if the atmosphere shook, there'd be no kind of precipitation results, just the same blue bright stillness. I made it to a couple scenic vistas that were very satisfying. I called my grandmother from one of them and fielded her "so, when are you getting married?" questions for at least the twenty-thousandth time of my life. I let her know that I like my job now. She seemed satisfied with that and then started paying me a bunch of compliments, saying, "you come from a good background..." and so paying herself a compliment or two in the process. I love my grandmother. She's what they call formidable.

Eventually I made it to an art opening and then to Dolores Park for a bit before calling it a night.

Today I woke up late, made breakfast and had a coffee, rode my bike to the store to buy flour and nutritional yeast, went to Atlas Cafe and read some of Point Counter Point, the Aldous Huxley novel I'm reading, until these two ladies at the table next to mine on the sidewalk started raising their voices during the emotional squabble they were apparently having. Eventually, it became too much to endure, but not before I heard snippets of a quarrel about somebody's step-father and choosing not to continue friendships with people who one never got along with in the first place. To keep things short, it was a mess of third rate dross laid out by some typical-looking early-middle-aged ladies of the very tan, very much skin showing in mid-afternoon variety. I left to come back to the apartment and make Basil Pot gravy. I then feasted on 1 1/2 bowls of gravy, gomasio, red onion, tomato and shredded white cheddar cheese.

Full, satisfied, and fresh from reading an article about the mystery of who blew up the Los Angeles Times builing in 1910, I retired to my bedroom to make a mix tape for Mixing People is Meeting People - a monthly mix tape swap and dj nite that I think is an excellent idea. I'll head over there in about an hour I suppose. and that will be the end of the weekend. good night.