Fleet Foxes – He Doesnt Know Why

The problem with starting posts and finishing them 2 weeks later without having published them in the first place but leaving them in the Drafts folder for future expectations of “doing it better later”: When I do finally want to write, I spend the time editing these old posts and lose my time and desire for the what brought me here in the first place. Living in the Moment I am not.

I’m quickly developing a mental list of favorite things in San Francisco, many items transitioning on and off, and many getting added as they smack me – by surprise – during a hundred out-of-the-blue encounters.  One of my absolute favorite aspects of this town is how often I’m still caught smiling, stunned that even after a year of exploration, I’m STILL turning a corner and having my pants charmed off. And discovering entirely too many things to do and experience.  I chastise myself for not having seen and done it all yet, as if I actually could.

I love it here. I really do love it here.

For instance: a beardey dude I met yesterday told me about this – Critical Mass. How have I never heard of it? And on Halloween to boot.

(psst. There are SO MANY beardey dudes here. Grin.)

I just don’t know how to convey it — there seem to be countless thrilling and gorgeous and very well-crafted endeavors here.  The hiking, exploring, sailing, riding, climbing, the buildings, food, art, architecture, DESIGN (in every aspect), and most of all, the outright beauty of this city.  That’s the thing, it’s the crispness of this air, the colors of all the goddamn flowers, the near-constant breezes that deliver notes of fir, rosemary, jasmine and honeysuckle. (again, I’m not fkking kidding. I walk home and say “Really San Francisco? REALLY?” to myself. Beautiful asshole town.)

It’s like it’s not fair.  I fly in from TX thinking, “Hey, it’s not so bad here.  Texas has some good stuff.”  And into Oakland to boot, which is furthest away, a much more expensive cab/Super Shuttle/favor-to-ask-of-any-friend, slower in nearly every aspect and altogether considered by me a less than top experience.  And as I’m crossing the Bay Bridge on my way to the city, especially at night, what I’m greeted with upon my return is pretty splashy water, a bright clear sky full of stars, and “land stars”, a term I’m stealing from Blake to describe the twinkling lights in the hills of Bay Area cities at night.  San Francisco has them, Berkeley has them, and Santa Cruz has them when you’re looking at it from the shores of Monterey.  I’m not kidding when I say how beautiful I find it here – I getnow the comparisons to Cologne and Buenos Aires and to the Marais.  It’s like I land, and now I’m in a fairytale land.  At least it’s what it looks like.

I. have. so. many. pictures. Ugh. I’ve GOT to get them up here.

So this is a picture from last Tuesday night when Frank (who calls me Charm Bracelet?) and I went to a workshop at the SF Chronicle, then wandered next door, up a red carpet inside a baroque-embellished old columned building and found ourselves at the annual tasting (more…)

Scarrrrrryyyyyyyy

Sweeeet!

Southern Star Pine Belt Pale Ale. From Conroe. Nuff said.