August 18, 2005


Mike is still my newish friend but tonite we went on one of those walks that, as he szaid, ages you as friends. "We are 55 in friend years after that walk" he said, and it's truer than true. We skipped the Burmese show and walked 15 blocks uphill to see the city high up from a park. Climbed on stuff and froze a little. Mostly we talked about anger, fear and the weird soul of San Francisco.

I think of SF as a ghost town, so haunted by all the ghosts from gold rush panhandlers, to everyone ever downed by a quake, to all the hippy ODs, to generations felled by AIDS, all of the ghosts mingling hard in Manson fam hill habitrails and scriggly-scraggly fault lines. All that Helter Skelter juju, all the Monterey'd money, all that leftover vibe from the America slowly dying routine, the push and pull of fog and ocean, the special feeling you get in a city where a third of the people on the street are on their way to cop.

But mostly, mostly, the soul is in the sign in english and spanish on the firehouse next door that has a baby in a big hand and says "safe drop off site", though the sign in spanish is more explicit -- "this is the safe place to abandon your son or daughter". It says "Renuncia" instead of drop off. If you are freaking and must renounce parenthood -- The sign is to encourage you, if you have to bail on yr baby, do not put it in a picnic basket on the BART, bring it to the fire station. Renounce sons or daughters here.

Posted by Jessica at August 18, 2005 02:17 AM | TrackBack