Sunday, January 9, 2011


Solange had already been up and about when I awoke the next morning.  Waking up was a pleasant experience,  helped  by the site of Solange's morning smile and the strong smelling red eye she offered along  with the sourdough bread and brie Solange had packed for the trip.  While she wasn't in any particular hurry, the concert wasn't for another thirteen hours or so and San Fran was only ninety minutes away, Solange hinted that she wanted to get a move on and hustled me towards the bathroom.  So reluctantly I opted for gulping rather than savoring the French Roast and made do with a quick shower.  Once clean and looking sharp in the black turtle neck, slacks and Doc Martins Solange told me to wear, we floored it to SF.  Solie had planned much to my pleasant surprise on some more fun tourista stuff figuring it was about time i see present day San Francisco rather than the pasts I had had the opportunity to explore.  

We walked on the Golden Gate bridge which was fabulous. Solange looked, well she looked like a sexy sprite with her hair blowing being framed by a blue and umber hilly coast line.  We didn't cross the bridge, just walked about half way before turning back.  When we stopped, Solange remained quiet and just gazed at the vista.  I must admit I was staring more at Solange rather than the beautiful horizon.  Anyway with the view and the smell of the sea air and the rythmic sound of cars passing I truly felt at peace then.  Serene.  Until I fell asleep and found myself still on the bridge watching someone stand precariously on the edge.  I shouted "Don't Jump!"  Thinking about it I probably should have kept my mouth shut, I startled the chap so much he lost his balance and toppled down into the  Pacific.  Wonder where the bodies end up.  Funny how it doesn't seem like the papers report on plunging activities of the Golden Gate.  'California hear i come, right back where i started from, gonna plunge of yer golden gates.'   When I came back to the present, I was ready to head back to the car.

The rest of the day we managed to hit North Beach, browsing books at City Lights and listening to Arias on the juke box while sipping lattes Trieste, two places as cool in present as the times I'd seen them in the past.  Solange dived into Vesuvio's for a drink, but I didn't risk it not feeling I could pass for a twenty one year old.  We both enjoyed a PBR across the street at Specs though.  I think they'd serve anyone there, I swear I think one of the patrons was a lil corky dog.  Loved the decor of the place and felt comfortable clinking glasses with a jovial Solange who seemed to get more excited about the concert awaiting us as the day rolled by at a pleasant pace.
We also went to Golden Gate Park and Haight and Ashbury.  Loved the park, but could have done without gawking at the Haight, seemed like a puposefully dirty and stinky mecca of  a mall geared exclusively toward the gawking tourists who tromped around there. Hate to rant but just have to say i believe picculi is the foulest scent ever to be warn by a human being.  I'll take body odor any day over that putrid aroma.
We spent the rest of the day wandering the Fillmore area, and then eating around the civic center.  I think i loved that area of the city the most what with all the old government buildings play houses bastions of wealth interspersed with the hordes of homeless asking for change, prostitutes turning tricks and junkies looking for a fix.
It was really a great day the best I ever had, and was still very jazzed when it was time to see Diamanda perform.

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