Category Archives: san francisco

on a muggy day

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events lay heavy

on a muggy day

all my stuff is dusty and dirty

everything is out of place

my precious love on layaway

on a muggy day

hard to say

hard to care

the world struggles beneath it’s own weight

hard to even muster

when the day has lost it’s luster

and has become a faded photograph

stubbornly refusing to die

there’s no reason to this
no why

because a muggy day

makes no sense

it’s feels murky, grimy

I feel like washing my face

get me out of this place

where the air can choke you

and your eyes are filled with sand

a muggy day like this

is impossible to understand

It’s a brand new day today

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It’s a brand new day today

The sun is shining brightly

I can breath today

I can hold my cat on my lap

As Billie Holliday sings

Tapping at my computer

Happy once again

Can’t account for it

The world is still what it is

Death has been working overtime

And catastrophe just a few steps away

From my door

Still here I sit feeling a deep well of compassion

Beneath the blood-stained Earth

Every day someone falls in love

And new life begins

It’s a brand new day today

Anything can happen

Let’s make it happy

Let’s make it good

Down those lonesome tracks (Tribute to Neal Cassidy)

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Down those lonesome tracks

that led to somewhere back

a time of red roses by the side of a shack

pool rooms and fresh news

from out of a gunny sack

He talked and he talked

as he drove all day

taking us further and further away

I miss him today. sweet Neal

Innocence sweaty, sensual and scarred

there can be no other bum so proud

there can never be a truth so loud

as Neal

Headin’ down those lonesome tracks

looking for a home cooked meal

Nude Dude

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The nude dude don’t care

Cause he don’t wear your values

He just flaunts it

Cause he wants it

He likes when you stare

With an impudent interruption

in your daily routine

the nude dude gets in your hair

Looking for love

looking for recognition

for something even he doesn’t understand

but can feel inside

forcing one’s needs upon the world

ain’t pretty

but the nude dude doesn’t care

Yes I see you

Yes you’re there

All hairy and horny

with nothing to wear

why must the nude dude do this thing?

why do I care?

Does life in it’s rawness without rules

Scare me?

Maybe I should try being a nude dude too

But if everybody is nude

where is the thrill?

A Foggy Day in San Francisco

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I like fog. I like the way it makes me feel. I love San Francisco, and the city is given a sense of mystery when enshrouded in fog. When I arrived for work this morning the Golden Gate Bridge was completely covered in fog. The fog moved across the ground like an ephemeral animal seeking it’s prey. You can smell the fog and it has a unique flavor. A foggy day enhances my senses and makes me feel more alive. I don’t mind it at all. By contrast, although I love sunny warm days because it means beautiful women tend to wear less clothes, I don’t like the way it saps all of my energy causing me to just lie around and sweat. I am certain I would like Scotland and other foggy climates. Many of my ancestors were Scots, and I can easily imagine these hardy souls freezing their asses off just for the thrill of it, standing above some fog filled crevice.

We live in such a beautiful world and don’t stop to appreciate it often enough. Ever since my eyes have been restored (actually better than just restored, my eyesight with my new glasses is 20/20 and close to that without glasses) I can see things that touch my soul in little ways. I can’t necessarily explain it, but it bares close resemblance to wasabi. I think that is the right word. This is a taoist concept of when something is perfect just as it is, in perfect balance and harmony. At times I can see wasabi in all kinds of unexpected places. But the tao puts on an especially lovely and intriguing coat on a foggy day.

There is a freshness in the air on a foggy day, and even though it isn’t comfortable I rejoice in my uncomfortableness. I am alive. I play a part in this beautiful play of existence. It seems that everyone and everything has it’s part. I still can see the squalor and sad urban decay both animate and inanimate, but I view it from a different perspective. I marveled at the sight of the little black birds picking their way through the tasty goodies hidden in the grass at Fort Mason while humans frolicked nearby. Each species absorbed in it’s own agenda, and beautiful in it’s own way.

This is why people sometimes seem unaccountably cheerful on foggy days. Even though it is chilly, the world has taken on an eerie, inexplicable quality which excites their imaginations. Or, at least, that is what it does to me. I am reminded of the tourist I saw. He was laughing and taking a picture of where the Golden Gate Bridge would have been if it were not for the fog. He was delighted with this trick played by nature, and decided to get even by snapping his photo anyway. I am often struck by the hardiness of tourists who come out to see the Golden Gate Bridge and are wearing shorts and no jacket expecting warm weather. They are tough, they enjoy themselves anyway. This says something about the human spirit, it’s tenacity in the face of adversity.

I feel like I am in the middle of a really good novel when I walk about on a foggy day. This is the cinematic backdrop to this drama called my life. I have always absorbed the texture and the mood of any place I have lived and San Francisco offers a rich antique, and yet very up to the minute contemporary texture and mood which is enhanced on a foggy day.

It Can Be Done

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Limitless opportunity in an unshackled universe

It can be done

Present the ideas that will never fly

It can be done

Dance in some new crazy sexy way

It can be done

Don’t wait for opinion or you will lose your nerve

It can be done

Blow up the carcass of your belief

It can be done

Put your plans in motion

It can be done

Cause the clockwork to pause

and reset the time

It can be done

This poem was inspired by a paperweight model of one of the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, which you see above. The Golden Gate Bridge, for me, represents audacious daring. Taking a crazy idea which many people said at the time would not fly, and making it not only fly but become an icon for the American spirit of unshackled innovation and exquisite beauty. You can purchase the model at the new Bridge Pavilion, next to the Golden Gate Bridge.

What’s Up With Muni?

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This post is for my fellow San Franciscans. The one question all of us have in common here in SF is “What’s up with Muni?” Muni is our primary public transit, and everybody hates it. That is not an exaggeration. Even Muni employees hate Muni, but then most Muni employees hate pretty much everything. Which is much of the problem. I ride Muni to and from work and I am constantly reminded of how rude and hateful most of the Muni drivers are. This happens without provocation. I am perfectly cheerful and board the bus and slip in my two bucks, and the driver treats me like absolute shit. Because I exist. These people have no business dealing with the general public, they should be in the back of some warehouse where they can be as hateful as they want with only a few people having to deal with it. I used to cut these drivers some slack because I have seen some incredibly rude and obnoxious people on Muni buses, and so those drivers have to deal with a lot of nonsense every day which is enough to make anybody cranky. However, the rudeness I have seen lately has no rationale. No one treats them badly, and yet they act as if their patrons are the scum of the earth. They can’t stand to answer questions of any kind, and are especially rude to tourists. Language barriers can be frustrating but the Muni drivers only make a frustrating situation much worse. Many times I have helped people get to where they need to go because the Muni driver couldn’t be bothered. I do want to point out an exception to this however. The driver of the number 28 bus to Daly City, which stops at the Golden Gate Bridge, on Wednesday mornings, is a nice, considerate, friendly, enjoyable driver. I wish I knew her name. She is a rarity however. The other drivers tend to be very aloof, unfriendly, or down right rude and offensive.

Why has this problem persisted? Why can’t Muni get it’s act together? The Muni drivers are among the best paid workers in SF, and yet to listen to them you would think they were poverty stricken. Their culture is one of them against the public and even the company they work for. They are the poor maligned Muni drivers who don’t deserve to be hated by the people of San Francisco. Don’t believe it for a second. What they deserve is better training, and the loss of the job they seem to hate so much when they insist on being rude to their patrons. There is no excuse for the behavior I witness daily. I used to think the people that worked at the post office were bad, or the social workers that deal with the unemployed were rude, but Muni is the absolute worst. What causes some people to get to the point where they despise every human being they encounter? I can understand occasional grumpiness etc. but this is a disease. The Muni virus, and I don’t want to catch it!!!