Demain, dimanche. Un autre jour, j’m’en fous. J’irai j’irai dans la ruelle, j’irai là où mon coeur m’appelle. L’est pas question que j’passe ma vie emprisonné dans ma p’tite tête, je suis un félin insoumis, j’tiens mordicus à bien paraître.
I was like, let’s go up the hill. And I went because this is my time, I am free, and there’s nothing to be afraid of. So up I went. And up and up and up. At the top of Nob Hill, taking in the sights of the sprawling, downward streets and cable cars, the ocean (the fucking ocean!!! I had never seen that one before!) far away, it hit me. Finally. Finally finally finally. I AM HERE!!
This is what I wished for. This is what I’ve been waiting for. I made it. I am in San Francisco. Let me be corny for just a second: dreams do come true. This was my dream, and I am here. And it’s nothing like I imagined it would be. I am nothing like a imagined I would be. But it’s real.
I put on Sitting on the dock of the bay and cried a little bit. I am allowed, okay, it was a very emotional moment.
I sit in a square to write, next to Grace Cathedral, in front of a fountain. The sun is out there, but it’s still pretty cold up here. It smells like dog shit. All of Tenderloin smells like piss, Vietnamese food and weed. An old lady is doing her morning aerobics alone. A tiny dog is wearing a Santa outfit.
En attendant, ça peut attendre, j’goûte au bonheur, c’est pas pressé.
SONG CREDITS: Belzebuth – Les Colocs – Dehors Novembre