I went bowling earlier in the day. I got a bit too into it if I'm being honest with you right now. My arm is sore. It already feels like its going to fall off at times. It feels actually pretty nice. The feeling of having utilized your physical self. The satisfaction of juicing your body and expending your latent frustration and anxiety. Sometimes it feels good to feel slightly bad in terms of soreness. But I digress from the real discussional task at hand.
Like I mentioned in my last post (link here please) I fly to San Francisco a lot for work. When I first started having to do it I'd often get a bit stressed. I think that it had to do with a combination of factors: the logistics aspect and the uprooting effect. Its hard to settle into a routine if every three months you are suddenly relocated for a week. Now I'm not complaining and in reality it's not that bad but since this is my damn blog I think that I am allowed to discuss whatever on here. Thank you for reading : ).
Like I mention in the subtitles I've spent a lot of time at the place pictured. When I first moved to San Francisco (permanently-ish) I came to this spot that first night.
I'm not sure how to put into words how I feel about this place. I miss it and purposely try to stay close to it. I've reached many a moments of catharsis spending time here. Contracting my muscles and tendons in a pointless sort of way. I've spent time on the floor of this place, sometimes writhing but mostly not.
Sometimes there are other people here at night. It's hard not to talk to someone when it's just you and them in one place doing the same thing. There is an initial period of gauging what kind of person the other guy is. Each of us figuring the other one out as best we can. And most of the time I end up at least exchanging pleasantries with the other guy: Complaining about one thing or another, Lightly complimenting them, Asking them a question. Old-school type crap like that. Some of the time we end up actually chatting or engaging with the same obstacle.
I am realizing now that I am fond of San Francisco. I like the buildings, the people I know here, the weather, the way the sun is somehow deeper and more dramatic. New York is a hopeful place of course but California has a different sort of hopefulness that I am coming to appreciate. It is a glacial sort of hopefulness: slow to come on but once it does it underwrites everything you experience.
When I lived in San Francisco I lived above an older German woman: Hilke. When I moved there initially I heard about her from my brother/roommate and I thought that since it was only us and Hilke living in the building that we'd become fairly good friends the three of us. I met her during the next couple of days and liked her a lot. She was mild-mannered but also struck me as Bohemian. She told my brother that I had the vibe of an artist so maybe I liked her for that reason as well. I was not much of an artist then though. Anyways, the pandemic struck and we weren't supposed to be near older people so I only had limited interactions with her over the next 2 years. But I tried to help her out by taking out her trash and recycling and trash night and bringing mail and packages up to her door. My brother and I would check in on her periodically.
I wanted to spend more time with her but fate got in the way. Older people have a lot to say. People in general have a lot to say. But you can't just say it all at once. Like I talked about earlier you have to get a feel for someone before you can understand them. People don't understand this about life at times. I always feel like I missed out by not getting to know her. I also felt bad because I felt like I could've been helpful to her and made her life better. Not that I am God's gift to the Earth but older people are often appreciative when people take the time to hang out with them and listen to them.
I have mostly lost touch with her. She doesn't have many people to take care of her. Her husband (maybe they never married but they were life partners) died some time ago and her daughter only comes once a week. Her apartment is filled with his art. It is earthy and unsettling a lot of it. I like his art. Her daughter comes once a week. She drove a bmw i3 and I remember I would know she was with Hilke when it was parked on the sidewalk driveway hybrid outside of my apartment. I've seen Hilke once since moving back to new york on one of my frequent trips back to SF. I went with Serena of course. Serena is always there to help me do the right thing which is one of the things I love about her. Hilke was thrilled to see the two of us. Hilke has lived in California for the past 60 years and has steeped in the hope here for that amount of time. I imagine it keeps her sane. I should visit her while I'm here.
Signing off - will