Such is life.
No news is good news.
Discard.
I waited for the late-night bus back to Berkeley. The 2am didn’t come at all so I waited until 3am, on this especially windy corner of Market. The tree’s suffered far longer than I, however.
Night?
I saw this person while waiting for another late-night bus. I wanted to go to bed really bad, but it could wait.
Bop is a really peaceful sleeper.
Shadowy meditation.
“I got my pocketfuls of money.”
“I’m gonna spend it all tonight.”
“A whole month’s salary, I’m gonna set it to flames.”
They boarded up the fountain at the building where the magazine I work at is located. Good thing, I’d probably have to pee all the time.
There are no windows in the office. Just this natural light.
Deadline for Issue 14 is almost up. It’s crunch time.
Mmmm, wang fat.
Brushstrokes in the sky.
Color shift.
Nighttime fell and I had an idea for an adventure. Danilo agreed without any idea what we were going to do. He was in the dark. We were both in the dark.
But along the way we found a beautifully lit trash pile.
I decided it would be a great idea to go to an abandoned radio tower. We walked a dark path only lit by occasional camera flashes and scored by the creaking of eucalyptus. Hunter Jackson showed it to me one year ago. There used to be a hole in the fence. This time we had to scale the razor wire.
Those stairs laying on the ground used to connect to the next level. Not anymore.
We had to balance along the shaky expanses of corroded metal to work our way up to the next solid level.
Danilo wrote a song about the loss of a brother earlier that day and felt like it was a sign not to climb up.
I went on alone and made it to a set of stairs twenty feet up and climbed as the rest of platforms as they got smaller and smaller.
It’s way up there and it’s beautiful.
The veiled purpose of the outing was to hang a flag I made.
No claims. No manifest destiny. Just a salute.
And it flew.
Up up over darling San Francisco.
