Coit Tower, Nob Hill, San Francisco.
I don't think there's any other word I could use to describe my time here in the Bay Area besides 'marvelous'. I'll keep this short but sweet. K, my best friend/niece is a most exquisite host. I've been staying with her the past several days up here in Petaluma (1 hour north of S.F.). We've been bonding, pigging out, and laughing with each other til our tummies literally hurt from it. She's so jawdroppingly beautiful, the way she has grown, the way I'm constantly inspired by her. She's a work of art, a work in progress, a work of pure grace.
Tomorrow I'll finally get back into San Francisco. K will drive me into town where she, my other close friend J, and I will find some good cheap ethnic place to dine and then I'll stay for the rest of my holiday with J in Oakland, where I have access to the trains into the city.
On Friday I have a date with T, that tall blue-eyed Irish American independent filmmaker I've been corresponding with. He lives in Lower Haight. We will go tikki bar hopping around Union Square in downtown. T and I share a love for tikki places, modernist kitsch (he has a vintage white monkey doll), Lili Taylor, and bizarre sense of humour.
On Sunday I meet N, another correspondent, for dinner. I proposed Italian. N is a senior executive in the pharmaceutical business, and leads another life as a graffiti artist. He and I have been having some deep and rather profound conversations (he's into the writings of Genet, Rimbaud, and Proust, and we share passions for artist Laurie Anderson, european films, and the writings of Anais Nin). We're both INFJ types.
