San Francisco Calling?

My daughter, who lives in San Francisco, frequently multitasks by calling me while walking from one place to the other in her neighborhood. She is often on her way to some place, or from some place that sets my imagination soaring.

“I’m walking to Tartine to get some coffee,” she’ll say. I can almost taste the warm croissant I would buy if i were going. People take photos of Tartine’s wonderous pastries and they blog about their sandwiches.  This photo is from wishbone clover

I know that I am probably embellishing things already fixed in my memory from the time that I have spent in the city.

Although when I think of of the 70s in the Mission District I see strange, rumpled bunnies hopping home from a long night of sweet yet dubious adventure.

When I read chuck b’s blog my back 40 I drool over the beautiful pix from Bernal Heights.

I imagine the cool air and the fog crawling through the low-lying areas of the city and I see myself scurrying through the streets among other creative open-minded people. In my good cherry-topped, whipped-cream dreams they are everywhere.

I’m sure there are still plenty of assholes, hustlers and those who suffer from unfiltered perceptions of reality but I’m dreaming here.

I find sites like this and imagine that by some miraculous twist of fate or by logical calculation I can come up with a way to transfer my money-making focal point four hours to the south.

I’ve just discovered the neighborhoods page at dreamworld.or’s S.F. guide. Alfredo Jacobo Perez Gomez is the person behind this site. He has put up photo tours of some neighborhoods. They may be a couple of years old. I see a reference to 2005. It is delicious work, Alfredo.

Here is the Mission at 18th and Valencia:

Lovely photos from this West of Mission St.  neighborhood.

I have always dreamed of other lives, places and people no matter where I am. It’s not that i am disatisfied. I think it’s more about keeping a balance of reality and fantasy in my watery mind.

I know that I have it really good right where I am. In Redding I live with a great partner in a nice house. It’s quiet and surrounded by lovely vegetation.

Our landlady employs a gardner so we don’t have to mow the big lawn. We have plenty of room to do our artsy thing and we can afford to live here.

This place is not haunted by any unpeaceful entities, at least not any from the other world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I believe that when it is time for things to change the doors will open.

I just like to peak through the windows while I’m waiting.

A flock of angels grace our back door.

Here’s another one.

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