Quick update from yesterday after our morning shower serenade and ode to whatever ... I managed out the house to kick my coffee bean diet ... beautiful day for st. louis to lose and Arizona to win their respective series ... or wait, the opposite happened ... damned ... i've got pictures from yesterday too, i will post ... here's a bitty i wrote while at lunch -
at velo rouge, bourgouise spot; beer, braised beef sandwich - first meal of the day. I don't know much, have I mentioned this already or is it just assumed at this point. Either way I write on, trudge on - as if perhaps maybe somewhere I do know something. This writing thing as a creative and artistic endeavor is a big charade; I am really a charlaton, a simple unemployed folk desperate for fame generated by exxagerated and conjured up grandoise exploits - like eating 20 whole coffee beans for breakfast, in order to capture and sustain your attention ... (Actually I am writing this blog just as an excuse to watch as much sports I like without incurring my gf's wrath ... it is brilliant idea right?)
I hit the ordering crossroads today, often, I'm often at crossroads... it's kinda my thing... and often I sit at these times when everyone else stares and says go left, go right - do something - and i do, do something. I stare them down with great veal, and reveal my humanity - to show them something extraordinary - a glimpse of life and its most blatant quality - insertitude and vulnerability. Perhaps I stare to much, too often and like a herd of sheep in the middle of the road in Uzbekistan I stubbornly refuse to budge... and annoy the hell out of you - but not in vain my friends, I promise - not in vain ... you see, I too am going somewhere... and at the pace of a turtoise fueled by time infinite unknown - I am also ... getting on your nerves. And once there I sink my ever annoying little not going anywhere teeth deep into ... (insert picture of sandwich) ... my sandwich - see back to food. I told you I was going somewhere with this.
... alright, that beinfg said lets move on to the rest of the day ... of sports and food ... hackysack with the homeless guitar playing folk in the park, while they ate their dumpster lunches, played old led zepelin songs, passed around a blunt and a couple 40 oz of old english ... (picturer) ... yep, that still goes on ...
Actually a sunny day today in the Richmon District of San Francisco ... amazingly ... oh did I mention the orange juice smoothie or the pasta with fresh cut herloim tomatoes and poached eggs dressed as if east met west ... a korean bowl meets your momas italian meals ... olive oil and basil with soy sauce and saracha ... try it, when the fridge is empty, is good. The only sauces in my fridge are saracha and soy.
...watched those bball games last night ... wanted zona, wanted phillie and st. louis to sponatneously combust and be disintegrated from the universe for say three weeks only to miraculously appear uninjured but out of all playoff contention ... also wanted that center fielder from milwaukee whats his name who refers to himself by some name like the entertainer or something, to get in a fist fight with brian roberts 3b from zona whose got tats and tood as well ... then for prince fielder to come in and perhaps just obliterate someone, only for kirk gipson to settle the rest of the matter on one leg like karate kid meets 89 world series gipson and take down prince with a kick to the dome ... but then poppa fielder races onto the field and the milwaukee sausages and zona takes out some rattle snakes the bring with them for good luck unbeknownst to anyone else ... well you see where i am going with this, yes, ryan braun was a 60s porn star.
ok, now onto other matters ... like the wine bar a drank some fine blonde beer at and cheered with the gf and a rowdy crew of frenchouis meets bay areans ... actually we mostly talked about tron the movie which i watched earlier that night and blew my mind ... actually it did not but jeff bridges wanted me to say that ... i think ... he is very tricky, and seductive ... alright ... enough ...
Al Davis, R.I.P. - al actually lived down the street from me in Piedmont in a japenese styled house ... as a youth my friends and I would pass by his house half in fear and half in curiousity ... i think we might have seen al making love to a young women one day ... but i cannot be sure ... he too, like jeff bridges, has the power of mind control and time travel / morphing ... so i do not trust these images ...
i hear marcus allen will be the knew executive director of the raiders ... actually, 1988 rushing title winner marcus allen, who time travels as well ... in a moment of redemption, will bring the raiders back to their glorious ways when fans were free to pee in the beer cups and poor it on opposing players heads as they came out of the locker rooms ... you know, the good old days of silver and black football.
one time i went to a raiders game in the new oakland coliseum and sat in the area known as mount davis for it is formidable in haight and distance from playing field ... i brought an oxygen taken and no one over the age of 60 or with a heart condition or with azma was allowed up ... as well, we were required to wear caribeaners and straps, it was like climbing half dome, i think at least thirteen peole fall off mount davis every year to their deaths, but i cannot be sure ... it is especially good for getting drunk quickly and easily, although this does add to the death risk factor ... my head starting spinning from altitude sickness just as the raiders tunred it on in the fourth quarter against the lowly st. louis rams of the mid 90s. this was a sad day for all, as both teams were very poor and al davis, aka vador, was controlling all of our minds to enjoy but only with a great sense of loss deep in our hearts ... i do not know why he wanted this of his fans, but i imagine he wished us to feel his depth of conflicting emotions while running the great raider team to glory and then into the ground as a result of pysychosis and dementia ... brilliance, excellence.
ive got to go now and watch the amazing planes fly over head and annoy the hell out of me, it is called fleet week in san francisco but most just refer to it as that annoying time when everyone with migrains must leave town, and all children fear for their lives, and those who lived through the cuban miscle crisis experience severe ptsd. it is very traumatic. but most young white people in the marina district seem to like it, as they drink excessively on roof tops and cheer ... perhaps it reminds them of their dear film and life philosiphy known as 'top gun'.
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