Blue Sky, Warm Sun

Blue sky, warm sun, San Francisco Saturday.  I mucked about.  Went shopping at Saks Men's Shop looking at the crazy beautiful jackets by all the Italians that I cannot afford but which look so wonderful on me.  How much money must you make to afford $4,500 jackets?  A nice fellow named Brian helped me surely knowing that I could not afford them, but in the end he gave me his card and I wrote down the address for Cafe Selavy because he said he would like to peek.  Brian. . . if you do come, drop me a line and a jacket that fell off the truck.  You know my size.

But San Fran on a Saturday is nothing but ugly tourists and not the place to be, so after running around in the crowd for a bit too long, I remembered that I had a car and decided on a trip to Berkeley's 4th St.  Were I to ever work in San Fran, I would certainly live in Berkeley and commute.  Berkeley is Brooklyn to San Francisco's New York City.  Did I say that right?  It is more relaxed and boutiquey, without the traffic and the tall buildings and with better access to everything you want for your home and garden and your soul, body, and mind.  Berkeley is easy with cute neighborhoods and wild flower yards, and now the old, dilapidated industrial areas by the bay have been renovated in semi-urban ways.  4th St. even has a bookstore, something that you cannot find in San Francisco neighborhoods so easily.  And so I walked and shopped and had lunch at Zut! which was the old Ecco I so dearly loved but which has not changed very much, and so I sat at the bar and had Meze (roasted peppers, hummus, and smoked eggplant spreads with olives and grilled pita) and a blended Rhone that was cold and delicious.

After walking for awhile, I sat and had a coffee at Pete's and watched the crowd that meandered by, so different than the ones in San Francisco.  It was quiet and I got lazy and thought how wonderful life could be had I come here to live some time ago.  But then I looked around at the people who lived here, and they seemed no happier than I.  If anything, they were not as happy but were inured to this delicious life that maybe you can only truly feel by contrast.

Finally, in the late afternoon, I took a drive around the streets of Berkeley before turning back to the highway and the Bay Bridge.  Last year, I crossed without cash and still have an outstanding fine, but this year when I went to pay, the woman told me that I had a pass behind my rearview mirror.  Really!  Avis was really taking care of me this year.

Back at the room, I poured a drink and tried to work on some photos, but rather I turned and stared out at the bay and at the Twin Peaks and watched the day as it faded away thinking that I should go down to the Mission district and walk the streets and get some food and some tea at Samovar, but there was a heaviness on me that would not let me move, and so I sat longer and longer watching the sun fade into the background, the lights of the city beginning to take over from the day, and then it was too late, really, for me to go anywhere but downstairs and up a couple blocks to a sushi restaurant where I would drink sake and eat sushi and then come home to a final whiskey before the last of the embers died.