Cornelia Parker. Anti-Mass. Composed of a the charred black remains of a Southern Baptist church burnt down by whites.

So this weekend has been alright. Friday tried to go see Zizek, but the bookstore where he was speaking was so packed and his Slovenian accent was so thick, I couldn’t hear much other than the odd ‘capitalism’ or ‘liberalism,’ so instead I drank Red Stripe on the roof with my flatmates and called it a night. Saturday had to attend/help at this memorial service thing which though I grumbled about having to get out of bed, was really touching, and lunched with new colleague. That afternoon I meant to do so much, but two days before I managed to develop the largest most inconvenient blister I’ve ever had in my life, and so after dragging myself around Zara clubfoot, it hurt too much and so I gave up. I wanted to do so much that night, but my body refused to stay awake much past nine. I think the fact that this isn’t vacation and I can’t go home now is starting to get beneath my skin and my body is not happy about it. Saturday night I turned down several social opportunities and felt like a failure about it. Much as one tries, can’t make a housecat go out. Today I tried harder. Went to a monster Episcopal cathedral which was beautiful and all, but I think too much pomp and circumstance for little me. Went with a friend of a friend to Chinatown where I ate crab for the first time. It looked terrifying but didn’t taste too fishy. Also went to this chocolate festival thing where there was a swing band playing, which of course was nice. I know that sounds like a lot of stuff, it still doesn’t feel like enough. I feel like I could have tried harder. Though I have things to do and even some people to do them with, I wouldn’t yet say that I have really found a friend.

The Meat Market by George Hems

in the De Young Museum in the Golden Gate Park.

They say that people either love or hate this building. I liked it. Was into some of the naturalistic details, but I couldn't help but compare it to the Jewish Museum in Berlin, against which it paled. This view tower thing was nice, but was nothing like plain old mother nature twin peaks.

View of the new science center opening in late September. Excited!

Hey, yeah so I’ve been so busy I haven’t had much time to write and when I have, had too much to write about to get it said. But here I am now I will try. Got an apartment. Nice roommates. Great location. Had a week to explore. Put a lot of mileage on my new Keds. Need a bike but am let’s just say poor right now. Priorities, right? Like the Iphone on my Visa. $15 worth of mismatched furniture and a bed on the floor. Eating mangoes daily. A lot of burritos. Wonderful weekend wine and artichokes in the Alexander Valley one of the most architecturally appealing cabin house I’ve ever been.Started work at the hospital. Gonna be some tough adult stuff. Feel the weight of life and death about it but then strangely light. Senior care somber tasks and all I can do is skip home to dance music in a way less burdened than I’ve been in months. Perhaps deep down I know what I need to do to survive. This city is alive and even if I don’t yet give much of a care about anybody in this place and consistently miss everybody not here, I am not depressed and not quite alone. This city, I’ve determined, has a heartbeat of its own and while when Odessa told me she left her heart in San Francisco I assumed she meant love of a woman, this city is a living organism that I suspect can make or break a heart of its own accord. I am happy to be here. I am strongly ambivalent.

The strange cocoon known as the Conservatory of Flowers.

So I suspect that showing people photographs of flowers that you like is kind of like telling them your dreams.

Boring. But hey whatever, if I bore then I do.

Dalia garden.

Rose Garden.

Japanese Tea Garden.

oops! reverse order

views from my backyard.

houses on my new street.

approaching.

my new house on my new guerrero street.