How to Bring in the New Year

Quietly, spend a slow afternoon in apartment land, otherwise known as San Mateo doing as little as possible to recover from all the previous exertion. I finish the night the way I intended last night- bathing al fresco with a glass of champagne. I look up at the moon and the constellation of Orion and meditate on life, memories of my lost friend and the kindness of my hosts.

My traveling companion Chester gets a perch on my writer’s cap after complaining that he couldn’t see anything as I kept him in my coat pocket with my camera.  He is much happier with the new view.

Monday morning, my last day began with a plea to let me stay but real life beckons. I make breakfast of home fries and scrambled eggs for the gang. An old high school friend shows up as well. Instead of ferrying to Tiburon we decide to attend the “West Side Story” sing a long at the Castro theater. This grand old theater is a reminder of what a movie theater should look like, art deco decor, plush curtains, even an organ. 

The crowd is festive and in the mood for silliness, including me. Having hosted bad movie nights at my home and watched countless episodes of “Mystery Science Theatre” I’m ready with a retort. There are plenty of opportunities. In the balcony scene between Tony and Maria, she asks him to visit her at the dress shop where she works. The audience erupts when Maria commits the best unintentional double entendre with “Tony when you come, use the back door.” This is Castro street after all. At intermission I turn on the gang in mock despair.

“This isn’t going to end well is it? I thought this was a comedy but there’s like drama and singing and shit. This doesn’t end well does it?” Then there is the scene where the detective ( played by the great Simon Oakland) questions Maria who sends Anita off  with a coded message for Tony. 

“They could just speak Spanish.” I remark logically, which gets a big laugh from the row behind me.

We all know how the story ends but irrationally hope that this time they will happily ever after. There is not a dry eye  in the theater when Maria leans down to kiss Tony one last time “Te adoro Anton.”

We trudge up the steep incline of 17th street and the Saturn stairs once more in time to see a spectacular sunset as an exclamation point to a perfect afternoon. I pack my bag reluctantly and after a rushed Skypeing with my brother we go off to  “Mochino”  a fancy Peruvian restaurant. It’s so dark I have to use my tiny flashlight to read the menu. It’s mostly in Spanish but I find something I more or less recognize. I really can’t see my dish when it comes but it’s all very good. Now I should point out I’m not an adventurous eater normally and I’m a total spice wimp but I bravely eat what’s put in front of me and it ranks as one of the top eating experiences I’ve had . Ahi never tasted so fine. 

We end up rushing to the Ferry Building just in time for me to catch the bus to the train station in Emeryville. Hugs to my dear friends and I ‘m off  to the night train north.

We interrupt this vacation for a sobering reminder.

Ok I admit it, as much as I complain and roll my eyes at people for checking  the internet constantly- I did check in on facebook while I was on vacation. The new year started on a somber note. 

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I heard KC drowned.” a friend informed me.

Oh My God. 

We try to prepare ourselves for disaster. I had been thinking about earthquakes before coming to SF -trust me they get them. But life has a way of blind siding you with the unexpected. 

KC, whom I’ve known for years, drowned while trying to rescue his dog from the dangerous ocean surf. Grief, shock, sadness and - what the fuck was he doing? swept over me.

I had spoken to him only a month before while working on a play and needed some advice about guns- he had been  in the navy years ago. We had a pleasant chat and I had intended to get together with him and another friend but put it off until after my trip. The sudden loss reminded me that we should not take the presence of our friends and family so lightly. I vowed to keep in touch with the people I love and learn from them because I don’t want to regret the unasked question when they are gone.

My younger sister died ten years ago and I still wish I could talk to her about this or that but the chance is gone. We are indeed brief candles and the heaviness of morality latest blow has not left me the last two weeks.  I suggest you cherish the ones you love, it’s such a cliché but it’s also true.

Pouring Sunshine, Drifting Through Crowds.

I awoke Saturday morning to warm sunshine. I sit outside in sweats and a t-shirt. Only the sight of christmas decorations remind me it’s the holiday time of year. Feeling chipper me and my hosts decide to go for a walk - or rather a hike to the Randall Museum . I used to go to this place when I lived here. It’s where I learned the ancient art of setting movable type in a shop there. Me and a friend also helped feed the animals in the mini zoo they have. 

Looming over the museum is Bernal Heights, otherwise know as Rocky Mountain. It’s a bare outcropping made unattractive by a cyclone fence placed along the edge so people won’t fall off. I say lose the fence and let nature take it’s course. We wisely stay at ground level and enjoy the view of the city skyline marred by yet more ugly architecture in the form of a tall apartment buidling downtown that looks like an air filter. ( Note building in the center of photo).

When we return to base , Operation Rainbow Grocery Shopping is launched. Five people pile into a Honda Fit- the official car of SF -and we head off.  San Francisco has a population of  800,000 and I’m pretty sure most of them were at the store. It was an absolute madhouse. Note to self: don’t shop in SF before New Year’s Day without sedatives. 

We planned to stay in and celebrate the new year but decide to eat out with the arrival of another couple. We walked down to Castro Street and dine at the Sausage factory (insert your own joke here) an excellent Italian restuarant. While the two adult couples chat completely enraptured with each other E  and I sit in silence. I recognize the awkwardness in her expression from my own years of feeling excluded from company. As we walked back we passed by mobs of people out for a evening of  gala partying. Handsome men decked out in tuxes and a few in dresses stood in line outside a club or strolled around. Yep, gay people really know how to party. 

The hike up the Saturn stairs exhausts me but I’m proud of the achievement. I’ve exercised more in one week than I have in months. It inspires me to keep it up once I get home. I greet the new year sitting on the balcony looking out over the city hearing the whoops and hollers at the stroke of midnight. It’s an odd and unexpected way to bring in the new year. I was grateful for the privacy of the darkness, alone with my thoughts.

The Weather Whether you like it or not.

Friday morning me and the daughter unit were summoned to the boyfriends place to guard the goods while they moved.  We took the underground and walked the few blocks to lower Folsom street. Downtown SF, like most big cities is the sleaziest neighborhood. Our walk was a vivid trip past the homeless, the drug addicts, and- oh look a cop leading someone away in handcuffs. All of this in the shadow of the new and supremely ugly federal courthouse. I was not the least bit disturbed or surprised by the hard realities of street life. However, I’m  may never recover from the bad architecture.  

While the move continued, I headed to Japan town for sushi and colorful paper. The weather turned from sun and fog yesterday to outright rain today. Shit, I left Eugene specifically to get away from this dreariness but followed me. Curses! I was astonished to see so many people out on a Friday afternoon but I forgot the winter tourist season and everyone gearing up for New Year’s Eve. I wanted to walk around and explore things but Chester insisted we eat first. Fine with me. 

Isobune is a sushi restaurant that has little boats carrying the food around instead of a conveyer belt. It’s unique ( they patented it) , it’s cheesy and I love it. Let’s face it food always taste better when a) other people make it and b) it’s presented theatrically. I swear it’s enough to make an steadfast dieter go off the wagon. Chester wanted to ride on a boat but I vetoed it. I was startled when I saw the empty chair next to me slide away and two chefs emerged from underneath. Apparently the only way to get to the prep space in the middle is to crawl through an opening under the counter but it still looked like an prison escape. 

I was hoping to find a sword but according to an antique dealer a real Japanese sword is next to impossible to find anywhere these days. I am reminded again of the lost chance to buy one when I was in Japan years ago. Crushing. I find  some cool paper to perk me up but still. Like yesterday, this turns out to be a poor trip down memory lane. I realize I have adjust expectations and just relax when on vacation to avoid these small disappointments. Things work out better for me and I can enjoy it more.

The bus ride back was crowded but everyone was in good spirits, even the deeply stressed driver who was trying very hard to be solicitous. I gave up my seat to an older woman with a cane but after a few jerky blocks putting stress on my bad knee she decided I need to sit more than her. Fortunately the seat near to her opened up and we shared the complaint that cell phones were indeed a nuisance. A real phone does one thing- Stay home and is just for calls. Amen sister.

B’s mom is a bona fide famous artist. Merry Renk  has a long career creating some stunning jewelry. She even had stuff at the Smithstonian and  is mentioned at length in the several art book displayed on her coffee table. I spend time looking up at her large watercolors with a mixture of envy and awe. She’s a bit frail now with age and heart problems but fiercely independent. I arrive back at the house to find her chopping up ginger with a small clever. Considering her poor eyesight I watch the procedure nervously while she cheerfully carries on about her grand daughter and such.

San Francisco Here I Come Again

I finally got a chance to get away so I went to my favorite place- San Francisco by train. I was met by a friend who graciously let me stay a her place despite having one son move out and a new boyfriend move in the same weekend. I didn’t care I was out of dreary, fogged in Eugene. Since it was so beautiful we decided to check out Golden Gate Park and the conservatory. The joy of walking around in a warm lush environment  can not be overstated. My friend B spent most of the time taking photos and texting with my brother back in Pennsylvania. It was virtual vacationing with a family member. Both she and the beau are addictive iPhone users. I was half tempted to hid them and watch them freak out from with drawl.

I lived in SF years ago so I was still vaguely familiar with the urban landscape. The next day I decided on a trip to Cost Plus which I remembered from my youth.  I used to take the cable car which terminated about a block away. This used to be a laid back affair. I jumped on using my bus transfer at Powell street and watch at all the tourist oh and ah the ancient technology. At the end some of us would help turn the car around on it’s turntable.

The first shock was the cable car fare is six bucks-one way. Forget that-nostalgia isn't worth it. There was still a bus route that got me there. After walking  in thickening fog I discovered that the funk old brick building the store was in had been replaced with a new one  that looked just like the one in Eugene. I walked about in quiet disappointment, I guess I was really hoped for was a trip to my past. It's true, you can't do go back.

I took the streetcar back- what most would refer to as a trolley. The driver was a large black guy with dread locks. I was tired from walking but the car stayed put because the back door wouldn’t close. The driver recommended the underground line. After much debate about which direction to go I got off at Church and emerging on Market street  and what do I see? The same streetcar crossing the intersection. The driver and I pointed to each other in recognition. Riding on Muni can be an adventure.

New Year coming attractions.

Ok so I thought I was done with this blog stuff but it turned out I was just dry for a while. All I needed was adventure so I had something to write about because, I don't know about you, but I could give a shit about the mundane activities of every day life, mine or others. Yawn.

So I had a couple interesting things happen and as this a new year, a year I believe will involve change for many of us, let's get started.

First I took a play writing class and despite my inability to grasp the subtle nature of subplot, I did pretty well. I managed to write a ten minute play about a professional "hitter" who goes to a psychologist. It was actually funny.

Just last week I got back from a another trip to my favorite city- San Francisco. Lots to relate there so stay tuned for posts on that.

I  may threaten to go away but like a bad rash I always return, only I'm more enjoyable.