Days and Nights

Today, John and I took B’harnie to the beach. The tide was high, but going out, and the beach was covered in a salty foam. The water swirled and churned the foam until it looked like a cheesy, yeasty mass, undulating and writhing.



Later, I met up with and we supped at Fuzio in the Embarcadero Center before heading up Nob Hill to the Masonic Auditorium to see Eartha Kitt in concert. The woman at 80 is vibrant, has great legs, and could work her music so well. She had the crowd eating out of her dirty kleenix, which she frequently used to blow her nose.

Henry and I parted company after walking down Taylor to Market. I boarded MUNI at Powell Station, riding up to Van Ness. The walk home’s wind sussurated, carrying the sounds of the street. Briefly, I caught a whiff of pipe tobacco, and my memory was filled with Mike. Mike would have a pipe during certain times of the day, and I would be at his side, enjoying the special blend. A sense of melancholy swept over me, knowing that the likelihood of me seeing him again is growing more remote with each passing day.

Tagged as: Baltimore, Life in San Francisco, Music