Well, I made into SF. The ride was nice until I got to Santa Cruz. What a friggin nightmare that place is. I spare you details. Don't go there is all I can say.
It's been a few days and very trying. I got spun out there for a bit and things were not looking good.
So no time or want to post.
I Have been here 3 days staying at dodgy motels in Daly city. It's money I don't have at 66 bones a day but I tried sleeping in the car last night and it wasn't going to work so i again checked into a dump of a motel that is run by Nepalese Immigrants. I like the place because it has garages attached to each room and can back my car into it and sleep without having to worry about crack heads stealing my tools. I could also jack the neighborhood wi-fi to check email and craigslist. People just don't secure their Networks- love it. The interior decors of the rooms are a strange fusion of art-deco and spanish revival painted over so much its hard to make out anymore. I told the guy who runs it his electrical is so out of date and in deep code violation and I could fix it all for free nights but he just shrugged his shoulders. In the two rooms I stayed in the smoke alarms were torn out with live wires hanging out of the boxes. Crack and meth smokers did this I can guess. I can imagine, however, if i told him my lights didnt work he would just come and build a fire in the the bathroom sink and leave the door open. Then again thats why I love the place so much.
I am dying to live there, the monthly rate is comparable to decent rooms in the city residences.
Such a dreamer am I.
San Fran Day One
When I rolled into town I went immediatly to Mission and Silver, near Rob's and Mrs. Rob's place. I know it well so I saw the exit and hit it. I made it a point to not see them until I get my bearings rolling in the right direction here as they have a new kid and plenty else to fret over. I am eager though to visit but my mind is not at ease with my situation and uncertainty follows me and I can't shake it these days. Don't drag a slain deer into vegetarian's house is about how I'd feel about it.
It's the Glen Park stop on the BART Rail map. A place where it's posh to the right and far too real to the left, depending on which way you go when you leave the station. Literally a few hundred steps away from each other two w]very different windows that you can peer into can give you either over-paid homosexuals stuffing themselves with focaccia, beansprouts, avocado slices , free range-roast chicken washed down with the latest must-be-seen-drinking pinot wine, or you can go to Mission Street and see a whole other world with no Range Rovers parked in the street reflecting back at you in the window glass. Buses, trash, cigarette butts, poorly painted signs, alcoholics digging through the trash sucking out the last few drops of booze from discarded bottles but considerate enough to set aside a pair of shoes he found in there aside on the side walk for someone else to find.
I first went down mission to get my motel room and get cleaned up and hit the BART to get to a bar I found on a Christmas Day in 2003?? I don't recall but I loved the place and made it a regular spot.
Things didn't change there and it felt welcoming a place to relax and get real but I felt eager to see the other places and soon hopped a cab to get to Geary street to see the usual asian hostess bars.
These places I dreamt of for the two years I spent back in school and it did not disappoint. I stayed in the first place until last call saving the others for later days. The girls there were lively enough and since I could speak some chinese and traveled their country more than they I was able to keep their attention. It was fun enough for me. $35 cab ride back to the motel will keep me away from
doing that as often as I wish.
Day Two
I wheeled out to the East Bay , San Pablo, to visit KiKi's bar , a bartender I met years ago on Mission street. Like most, she liked to develop regulars and a lot of these bar hostesses like to cultivate followings, telling customers that are pleasant to show up at other places they may work at. She was fun, enough to drag even me out my a dark gloom I could remain in all night given no distractions. That's something I cherish to no end and I gave back. Happy as she is she'll get to drunk and have breakdowns, I don't know how many times she cried on my shoulder and how many times I had to close out the till count the money, tip her out, lock the door and get her ass home in a taxi when shit really hit the fan for her. She sometimes is right out of a Wong Kar Wai movie I swear.
She does fantastically well , however, she drives a better car and owns more property every single time I come back into town. ""Cash paid for S class Mercedes" she said, raising her arms in victory, That is this time around and she did it all by her own wits. I am proud to know her,5 years younger than I and I I don't even know if she finished high school. She has a new home that lies empty in San Pablo waiting for renters just remodeled by her new husband, a general contractor she found good use for I reckon. I think he only does work for her. So smart.
But Ki ki wasnt there, I sat in her bar and drank cokes as I had to drive back and learned she works the next day. The day was a bust for me. I drove in circles. Gave up on sleeping in the car and went to the shitty motor lodge dying for a shower.
Day Three
I awoke and checked Craigslist for work-nothing. I ate $3 worth of drive-thru garbage and headed back to East Bay. I did not feel good, dread and hopelessness chanted in my thoughts to drown out everything else.
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