SF DAY 8 – Black cloud

I woke up this morning with a black cloud hanging over my head. How black? I didn’t even bother to put my contacts on today. That’s how black. I am a fiery ball of rage, except tired. I put on an outfit of ripped jeans, a grey tank top, red and black plaid & a maroon hoodie. I call that outfit the Exhausted Hipster, which might be a pleonasm.

I just want to bury myself in my book and not deal with people or myself or the outside for a while.

I work on the blog in the morning. That fucks with both my patience and my expectations. Around 1pm I take the N line (again) with a bunch of skaters to Buena Vista Park. I climb a hill, then another one, then some wooden steps, then some more climbing. At the top of the hill, I sit my out of breath ass on a fallen tree. It’s quiet here, only nature, people who don’t want to be bothered and the sounds of the city around us. I couldn’t do Twin Peaks but this, I’ll do.

Ok, you know why I’m so mad? I can see myself living here so clearly. If I had a job with a salary that could support it, I could so live here. I would come to Buena Vista Park on weekends to read instead of just once for twenty to thirty minutes. I could take Muni to go to work every day. I could meet people at Mission for brunch. I could get involved in local projects to help the people who need help. I could learn to say “Have a good one” like it’s a sentence that totally makes sense. I could be here, indefinitely, instead of being a tourist. Fuck.

A butterfly just landed on my bag, everybody be cool.