San Francisco

There was a 50/50 chance that we’d* purchase the motorcycle (*we’d being A only, ever, but to include myself makes me feel mature), and either way I’d have been satisfied. Rather, I’d have been most satisfied if we spent the time, whatever time this was, exploring. Unfortunately the sale did not go through, and another lesson was to be learned that yet another person is inhumane/unkind/ and on and on. See ANGST.
So we spent the night at the Hotel Vincci where our room glimpsed the bold blood orange of the gate, and I loved all over the smoke of the air & the gray gray. I fell asleep on the floor of the shower for quite a while, beside a then-steamed glass of cabernet, and woke up with hot welts & red eyes. The pool was closed for unforeseen circumstances & so there was another roadblock on the path of post-collegiate athleticism and/or basic relaxation. We walked & walked & through Chinatown, where I gave A a very close impersonation of the elderly Chinese. I enjoyed seeing the stacks of plump vegetables, after new insight on organics accrued at the farm stand; the eggplants & oddities stood out more as consumption for hunger of the mind rather than for ---.
I walked in Saltwater’s the length of the trip – fell ill to flatfootedness until A bought me a pair of wedge platforms which cut into my heels & have been bleeding for a week & were the dramatic stylistic mistake divaness of mine to wear walking through the bus & Bart & airport systems, leaving me several times fallen on concrete stairs with strangers always suddenly gasping & reaching. I wonder if any one else pushes the pain-for-fashion as much as this? Probably yes, even A himself, as the boat shoes I bought him were too snug, but he continues to wear them with tape on his ankles & two thick horseshoe cuts punched out of the leather. See IF YOU LOOK A HOT MESS IN PAIN-FOR-FASHION MOVES, YOU’RE PROBABLY NEGATING THE AESTHETIC ANYHOW.
There were people in swim caps swimming laps between two buoys out on the water amidst the historic ships and behind them Alcatraz. I wanted the goal of this scenario to happen for myself the next morning. It didn’t pan out, as my motivational skills have been lacking since the spring. It was beautiful to see them though. I got a bread bowl of clam chowder which was also beautiful. We bought a disposable camera. We walked along the pier & I saw-heard a woman stop in front of the Hawaiin pearl excavation-from-shell-on-the-spot-as-a-lovely-gift-for-your-wife store, and yell with a thick, gutteral, long H-a-a-a in the beginning, “HAAAWAII!” Which made me smile. Finally, someone who was as vocal about pleasurable Hawaii as I am.
For dinner we happened upon a place called SAUCE, were brought to the back room, dark lit, with red velvet on the walls. We devoured & enjoyed goat cheese filled dates wrapped in prosciutto – yes!, fried things with dips, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans al dente, potato gnocci with swiss chard & mozzi, a bottle of red, and a sampling of most all of their desserts: smores, donuts & whiskey sauce, strawberries & cream, and a pb& j of ice cream, bread & jelly.
We intended to go to the MOMA the next morning, but got coffee and were patient & soft. Until all of a sudden we were late & running up the infamous hills.
A showed remorse for the loss of the bike, but I found a long-rested craving unwound.