An Unusual Love Affair
I keep thinking of the sidewalks in Berkeley where I found squares of wet cement and for the first time in my life, I had a chance to scratch my name into the sidewalk. I had heard of this phenomenon , marking ones initials in wet cement, as well as seen others' initials, footprints and pawprints -- but nowhere in my memory is the satisfied feeling of the luck of encountering a patch of cement wet enough to etch my name anywhere in Sacramento. But it happened twice in Berkeley, once on Channing, just East of Telegraph, and once on Piedmont. I am officially immortal until the tree roots come shouldering their way up through the pavement and until the whole section of the state suffers that long-anticipated monster earthquake and the whole thing slides into the ocean.
My affection for San Francisco is strong and I know why, I think, cities are often thought of as female. I caught her scents and we flirted casually, a brief taste of oysters on the pier and the charm of the horizons, and the fog rolling in like a daily toilette - and I am smitten, completely smitten, with San Francisco. A friend of mine is starting law school in San Francisco and my jealousy seethes. I imagine them together, and I see him locked in his dorm room, not properly enjoying Her, and how if I were there I would visit every corner, familiarize myself with her rhythms, and I could spend forever knowing her, while HE will treat her like some characterless wench. I one day will become a true lover of San Francisco. I will sit on a bench looking at the bay and be content with the sights she chooses to show me, delight in her weather, cherish her storms...
There was a distinct feeling of jealousy in me gazing down Bancroft avenue in Berkeley, barely discerning the tiny white sailboats sprinkled over the bay like tiny folded handkerchiefs, or flower petals.
And to think that it was with her shabby cousin Berkeley that I consummated a relationship! I tattooed my name in two sidewalks! I endured every stench! And for the duration of this feverish slow dance, I was gazing covetously at the gemstone shining across the bay!
-AUGUST 2008
My affection for San Francisco is strong and I know why, I think, cities are often thought of as female. I caught her scents and we flirted casually, a brief taste of oysters on the pier and the charm of the horizons, and the fog rolling in like a daily toilette - and I am smitten, completely smitten, with San Francisco. A friend of mine is starting law school in San Francisco and my jealousy seethes. I imagine them together, and I see him locked in his dorm room, not properly enjoying Her, and how if I were there I would visit every corner, familiarize myself with her rhythms, and I could spend forever knowing her, while HE will treat her like some characterless wench. I one day will become a true lover of San Francisco. I will sit on a bench looking at the bay and be content with the sights she chooses to show me, delight in her weather, cherish her storms...
There was a distinct feeling of jealousy in me gazing down Bancroft avenue in Berkeley, barely discerning the tiny white sailboats sprinkled over the bay like tiny folded handkerchiefs, or flower petals.
And to think that it was with her shabby cousin Berkeley that I consummated a relationship! I tattooed my name in two sidewalks! I endured every stench! And for the duration of this feverish slow dance, I was gazing covetously at the gemstone shining across the bay!
-AUGUST 2008