wednesday:
(I’d ruined my “secret return” to san francisco)
I don’t have much time so these words will be quick,
a bus ride to broadway street to visit the beat museum
and a thank you to the man there who showed that there can be passion
from bethesda to san francisco,
you can get up and go
find something you love and follow through.
a visit to city lights bookstore
(but instead I bounced drunk into his City Lights bookshop at the height of a saturday night business)
a walk from chinatown (while hiding in the alleys with bums and then marching forth into north beach)
to embarcadero,
shared a chocolate macaroon with myself on
the pier, watching the bay bridge and the water
and i realize again,
that it’s alright to be alone
a muni ride back to soma and a trip to the market
barbeque chicken never tasted so good
thursday:
among many other things,
i happened to eat a chocolate croissant the size of my head
friday:
today,
i write in a panic because of my soon departure to monterey for the night.
big sur tomorrow and here we go,
(One fast move or i’m gone’ so I jump up, do my headstand first to pump blood back into the hairy brain, take a shower in the hall, new T-shirt and socks and underwear, pack vigorously, hoist the rucksack and run out throwing the key on the desk and hit the cold street and walk fast to the nearest little grocery store to buy two days of food, stick it in the rucksack, hike thru lost alleys of Russian sorrow where bums sit head on knees in foggy doorways in the goopy eerie city night I’ve got to escape or die, and into the bus station- in a half hour into a bus seat, the bus says “Monterey” and off we go down the clean neon hiway and I sleep all the way, waking up amazed and well again smelling sea air the bus driver shaking me “End of line, Monterey.” – and by God it is Monterey.)
(Big Sur by Jack Keouac)
Accepting This 