Catching Up

by

With my friends.

Drinking coffee with my friends.

Debating the newest Daft Punk album with my friends, one good jam, and let us all cross our fingers that someone remixes the shit out of the rest of it.

Shit talking with my friends.

Eating spicy jerk tofu salad with my friends.

Eating french fries with my friends and looking out over the ocean from Louis’.

Drinking more coffee with my friends.

To the point that I handed off the last cup I had gotten half drunk to a friend.

“Here, you want some,” I said handing it off, “I can’t take in any more.”

Which is unusual for me, but I could feel the jittery tiredness begin to overtake my body, which means I had gone too far down the route of the highway of caffeine.

“It’s cold filtered coffee concentrate, you will want to mix it with milk,” the barista said.

Oh.

Yeah, how about some soy milk with that.

Ok.

And yes, that was concentrated.

Indeedy.

Yes, pardon me while I deconstruct that album with you, I can’t help it.

Tomorrow, more catching up with friends, I am super excited to have some sit down time and dinner and see some kittens and just general chatting and life and how are you doing.

Same thing on Sunday.

I get to see a friend who I have not seen in a while as he will be in town doing some work and we’re going to meet up in San Francisco.

Ah, San Francisco, you brat you.

I had a gorgeous day hanging out in Temescal Alley with my friend eating really awesome salad at the Mixing Bowl and drinking amazing coffee at the Dolly Donut, land of the “Naughty” cream filling and the coffee concentrate, and sitting on a bench talking general shite with my friend, then we went to the city and I was just seduced by the beauty of it again.

The way the new bridge is coming along and the glass shimmering towers, ok, who are all you people buying into Rincon One anyway, and where do you get your money, and do you want to share some with me?

Awesome.

I met up with another friend at Church and Market and we went out to the ocean.

“I got a car,” he told me, “and you need to change your phone number contact on your Facebook page, it’s your number in Paris.”

Oops.

Still we managed to connect and he wheeled me out to the ocean.

My first sighting since I have been back.

“How long have you been back,” my friend asked me earlier.

“Um, just over three weeks, not even a month yet,” I replied, although it feels like it has been longer.  In truth, it has not.  I have just done an insane amount of things in that time and I have been trying to cram as many people in as I can where I can and still do things, like, oh, you know, work.

Or procure work.

“Are you back at the bike shop,” another friend asked me tonight.

“No, they asked me back, but they did not give me a promise of better pay, and since I needed, need, to get on my feet financially, I decided to take on a nanny job that was offered to me,” I replied.

“Who cares where you work, you’re here,” she said and gave me a great big hug.

“You’re back!” He said and swaddled me in a gigantic hug, “you look great!” 

Thanks.

Thanks.

Thanks.

It is really nice to be welcomed back.

A little stressful trying to balance living in Oakland and going in and out of the city as much as I have.  That bridge really is a barrier.  When I am at home, when I am inside, typing away, writing, or sitting down in the morning, again writing, I feel safe, secure, sheltered.

Then I go outside and have to begin a long commute from here to there and that feels like a lot.  It feels like a bit of a struggle.  It feels like something I am uncertain for how long will this work.

“Listen, San Francisco is out of control with rents right now,” my friend said as we crossed over the bridge.  “Stay where you are and enjoy it and see what comes up, maybe you get a car, maybe you find work that can sustain less of a commute, maybe you just sack up and do what everybody else does and BART and carpool and deal with it, everybody commutes.”

Yeah.

But San Francisco, whoa, she was a calling my name today, even with the chilly ocean breeze flying in my face and my desire for a warmer neighborhood, I was freezing in my jean jacket and did not have nearly enough layers on, even then.

I did not want to get on the BART and come back.

However, there is nowhere else that makes as much sense for me right now.

The East Oakland is where I am, but it won’t always be where I am, that much is probably true.  The Bay area is where I will be, that too feels true to me, as far down the road as I can see.

Which truth to be told, I cannot often see very far down it.

Hell, I thought Paris was going to be it for the next ten years.

“How long where you gone for?” She asked reaching out to touch my arm, “and are you staying? You better be.”

“Six months, I was in Paris for six months,” I said and smile, “and yes, I am staying put.”

“Good we need you here, welcome home.”

Thank you.

It’s good to be here.

Can’t wait to see a few more friends tomorrow and regal them with tales too.

Perhaps just with a touch less coffee in my system.

Perhaps not.

I am starting out my day at Ritual.

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