In April I ventured to San Francisco on my own for the SF Women's Film Festival (Which I applied to again this year!).
On my very solitary adventure, I frequented this coffe/beer/bagel/panini/gelato joint called Cup-A-Joe on Sutter St at Leavenworth St. Buzzed on morning moonshine, I would sink down into the shop and order another one, then sit and draw the patrons until I was sober enough to contribute positively to society. I didn't know it then, but I was meant to return on a bicycle, of all things, and order a Fat Tire and a black forest ham panini. Which is exactly the reason I went back this weekend.
You might say that other things drew me north, but those things are not to be discussed here, because I am in love again. In a much more quiet way than I used to be.
I drove up with Emma. On Friday morning we threw our bicycles into the back of my wagon, where they embraced each other like lovers or like children in the backseat on summer vacation.
I love being around Emma. She is always a willing participant in my half-cocked ideas and schemes.
With my accommodations uncertain, I simply shrugged, and at the recommendation of a friend, engaged in Critical Mass San Francisco. Everything just makes so much more sense on a bicycle. Though San Francisco is Critical Mass' birthplace, the pack was pretty thin, and escorted by a band of police on motorcycles (Who, for the most part, ignored our bottle-swigging, anarchic intersection takeovers, and blatant disregard for the law with friendly chat and illegal cell phone calls of their own).
There were some pretty amazing sections of the ride - most notably a howling downhill drag through a tunnel lit up like heaven. When we dwindled down to a literal handful, the cops peeled off, and me and the remaining five or six riders stopped in the Mission for Mexican food. I got myself a crappy Corona, but after twenty nonstop miles (For which I remained at the head of the pack, hills and all), nothing could have tasted sweeter. Having lost Emma a while back (She went home to her fellow), I made fast friends with my Critical Six.
San Francisco is a cyclist's haven. Or rather, more of a haven than Los Angeles. Signage constantly reminds drivers that cyclists are free to have full use of the lane, and in a city not much larger than a twenty mile radius, where parking is sparse and streets are congested, a bicycle is a remarkable alternative. Almost everyone is on a bike, and it's comforting to see.
On Saturday we woke up late and I rolled dreamlike on my mission. I took my bike on BART and rode to Powell St. We got off there and walked up the hill, parting on a street corner in a sea of pedestrians. I took off on my bike and he took off on foot.
Starved, Cup-A-Joe greeted me with familiarity and despite the cold, I sat outside with my pint, lovingly eyeing the bicycle which had brought me there.
I'm back. Not quite as I had expected, but I'm back. I try to recall the life I had when i sat here almost half a year ago. It was April and remarkably hot in San Francisco. So hot, in fact, that to be buzzed at 1:00 in the afternoon was a chore. Now as I sit here, the warm amber glow in the pit of my stomach (& the pit of my brain) is a welcomed sensation. Recounting the small events of last night and this morning, the lyrics of a music that I feel best suits my life right now keep running through my head: "Home / Where my thoughts escape me / Home / Where my music's playing / Home / Where my love lies waiting silently for me."
Writing December 27th 2008 (I think)
Which finds me in the same place I was half a year earlier: I left my heart in San Francisco (In more than one way), and that city calls to me (For more than one reason). Experiencing it on my bike was new and wonderful, riding to meet up with a friend and then riding home in the most wonderful Bay Area haze (If you know what I mean....).
It, of course, happened much too fast. Did I tell you I have fallen in love again? I had the great fortune of staying at a friend's beautiful Mission apartment, having the space all to myself. And the ease of the city, walking its streets arm-in-arm with one once thought to have been lost...passing bicycles locked together like lovers, huddled close and leaning in to whisper secrets to each other....
I realized that I could tolerate the cold much better than my first trip up north, and maybe that's because I've grown much more flexible lately, especially in the wake of all that I've been through (Which is really not much, but to a spoiled girl from suburbia, it is...it's all relative). And as I've said here because I've said it before, I left my heart in San Francisco.
I will return one day to retrieve it.
In other news! My birthday party plans are synthesizing! The spot is going to be L'Keg in Echo Park on January 31st...and many many thanks to the gallery for allowing me to do this! More details to come as I solidify my lineup, which thus far very likely includes VOICEsVOICEs, Naima Earth, and Taffy Davenport, with photos by SayCheeseAndDie. Unfortunately I am going to have to charge folks $5.00 a piece, but just skip out on Starbucks that week because trust me, you don't wanna miss this!
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