tinto.

my disappointing night in san francisco.

of course, yes all of us sf natives have been there, at least i hope some agree…  in search of some real inspiration on an evening of debauchery which has lead to, well, disappointment. 

without a single thought we all know the disappointment comes from nothing but high intellectual standards in this town.  you can meet a some bright young lad who has the thoughtful ability to play the original super mario tune on a half broken honky tonk piano over at a bar in the middle of the tenderloin.   or you can sit in an educated entrepreneurs madonna-esque home at the top of knob hill, while pouring lines of the finest, of absolute finest drugs found in the world, while feeding you nothing but adorable lyrics of the likes of a machine programmed by an army of ants.

you get it.

the town is diverse…to a point where some may call it the mecca, the center…of freedom.

twirl my voice and call me a singer…love me long and call me a winner.  wailing despair i heightingly dare, this beat prepare.  either way, there’s no sound but this psychological lair…

teeth clenching and hobbling into the night i paced through a red colored concrete floor.  the occasional panic here and there kept from dropping my head to a table but the devil, called deadlines, gave me a troll like smile. 

of course.

i’ll always meet them but the things that come between to meet them are odd-ee-seas of themselves.

take for example the two week time period we all had to deliver that one piece of soul to the beggar who needed it.  that piece of my and your soul which was sadly taken for a slice of paper.  that mother fucker rolled following some metallic axle which was controlled by dirty tubes and pipes leading to some top of a man lost without control of himself.  perhaps a beast, acceptable.  as said by the greatest, he who makes a beast of himself only takes away the pain of being a man.

pace pace pace.  red grey red grey.  delivery nearing and without a delivery my career and life was at its short shallow end.

it’s unfortunate the receiver’s name was Mr. John Doe, without him saving us from pushing a red button, the entire mahogany framed universe became a note.

“I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult his calendar.” -Robert Brault

(image ‘the siesta’ by van gogh)

bicycleta

feet connecting to pedal you feel like you’ve grown new limbs.  an extension of your body almost like those anime characters who put themselves inside robot bodies.  when you’re leaned all the way forward, feeling the wind in your face the curve of the metal handle bars almost creates this modern glass shelter for you to see into the distance.  this moment in time you forget you’re even pedaling.  you forget you’re breathing.  you forget you’re on a bike…you’re simply being…and that being is survival mode, making sure every decision you make is the right one.  every bus and truck and car and person is out to eat you and you need to figure out the best way to make it to your destination.  even the bumps on the road can destroy your balance.  and that balance is the key to survival.  this piece of mechanical gears and screws and wires and rods and pipes is an extension of your body.

“Twixter”

A Time article from a few years back.  I can relate.

“Jeffrey Arnett, a developmental psychologist at the University of Maryland, favors “emerging adulthood” to describe this new demographic group, and the term is the title of his new book on the subject. His theme is that the twixters are misunderstood. It’s too easy to write them off as overgrown children, he argues. Rather, he suggests, they’re doing important work to get themselves ready for adulthood. “This is the one time of their lives when they’re not responsible for anyone else or to anyone else,” Arnett says. “So they have this wonderful freedom to really focus on their own lives and work on becoming the kind of person they want to be.” In his view, what looks like incessant, hedonistic play is the twixters’ way of trying on jobs and partners and personalities and making sure that when they do settle down, they do it the right way, their way. It’s not that they don’t take adulthood seriously; they take it so seriously, they’re spending years carefully choosing the right path into it.”

full piece: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1018089,00.html