What A Day


What a day.

What a fucking day.


I am tired thinking about it, exhilarated, and don’t even know where the hell to begin.

In no particular order.

Went to Outside Lands courtesy of my employers with my friend Radha.

We saw Hall & Oates, A-trak, Willie Nelson and Family, Vampire Weekend, and someone else who I am entirely forgetting, New Orleans funk brass band with guest Aaron Neville.

We sat and had Blue Bottle coffees in the VIP area and marvelled at the crowds.

We walked a lot.

I danced my butt off at A-trak.

And we left early.

I did not stay to see the Chili Peppers, I just was done in by the day, the dancing, the walking, the emotional excitement–although I heard them as I rode my bike from my place back into town, I had left my bicycle there and Radha and I walked from the house to the festival.


I put the deposit down on my studio in-law in the Sunset.

Yes, folks, I am moving back to, not really sunny, San Francisco.

I will be living in the fog belt but I don’t care, I have Trouble Coffee, Judalicious (where I had lunch raw vegan “tacos” on collard green leaves with avocado, cashew sauce, shredded red cabbage and carrots, sunflower seed “pate” and for dessert a nectarine from the local organic co-op market), Java Beach Cafe (I am envisioning some Sunday paper action on the patio in the sunshine–it’s not always foggy by the beach kids), Golden Gate Park, and lest I forget, the ocean.

I am not really living in the City by the Bay, but in the city by the Ocean.

It is just a bit different out there, it feels like it’s own little quaint beach community and I am excited to explore it.

By bicycle.



By foot.

By slow meandering walk to the beach.

By bonfire.

By moon light.

By hold my hand and walk with me in the surf.


I move in after I get back from the thing in the desert where they burn that guy for like being the man, dontcha know.

I don’t have an exact date pinpointed when I am back from playa, but I know that I probably won’t move in until that weekend following the end of the event–I am projecting a September 7th or 8th move in date.

The studio is gorgeous.

My friend really has done it right.

The bathroom (which I christened, yes that’s right, I peed on my turf) is all lovely tile and tidy silver and chrome with a lovely medicine cabinet, well-lit, and clean and bright painted.

The walls are fresh painted.

The lighting fixtures all brand new, including a ceiling fan and domed lights.

The floors still are in the process of being finished.

My friend was going to put in carpet and changed her mind.






The closet needs finishing and the kitchen is not complete yet, those details will all come together in the next week or two and frankly there is not a rush, it’ll be done and ready for me when I get back from the burn.

And eventually there will be a new deck out the back door and a new window so the studio will be even brighter.

I was actually surprised by how much light it did capture just from the little glassed in door in the back that leads to the yard and current patio.

I am going to have access to a yard!

I can hear the ocean from the back porch.

I can open the door and hear the ocean.

So much nicer than the gun shots I heard last night and the relentless drag racing and side shows that were going on last night.

Some folks got shot last night over here.

It was intense.

The news reported that a man was hospitalized for a gunshot, but no name, nothing said, a single line on ABC 7’s website.

I heard the shots last night.

And I heard the rumour mill at the BART station when I was headed into town.

Rumor was more than one person was shot.

I can believe that, there was a lot of return fire.

I am breathing so much easier just realizing that I am not going to hear that anymore as I drift off to sleep.

Ocean waves here I come.

I made it home tonight unscathed and in wonderment that I made it from 46th and Irving to Rainbow before they closed, and then to the Civic Center, onto BART, and back to the Gracelandia without incident.

The ride back, this time I did all on Lincoln and it was actually much more manageable than I thought, was foggy and chilly, and spooky and ethereal.

The entire city is bundled up in fog.

Then back to Graceland for the stack of mail to open and my groceries to put away.

And what’s that in the mail?



My student loan bill which has come out of forbearance and I have to make payment on before I leave for playa.

All the big money decisions whomp!

But I have it.

It’ll go in the mail tomorrow and I won’t have to worry about it while I am out dancing in the dust or getting my nanny on or doing my writing.

Of which there will be more as I also got something else in the mail.

The Bastille.

I am published.





My name, spelled correctly, thank you very much, and my story, The Button Boy.

It is so cool (even though there’s a typo in the last paragraph) to see my work, my name, my words, printed on paper stock.

I was also quite impressed by the journal.

It is a much higher quality print then I thought it was going to be.


****And here is where my internet went down last night at Graceland.  I tried again this morning to post and have now finally gotten some connection here at the nanny gig in North Oakland.


I hate when that happens.

Oh well.

So it goes, here’s the story from yesterday and hopefully there will be internet connectivity when I get home tonight, home, funny thought that.

Graceland for a little while longer.


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One Response to “What A Day”

  1. Secondhand Surfer Says:

    Have you ever gone to Jaws to watch anyone surf? Just curious.

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