Three Weeks Ago Today

1. Hung out yesterday afternoon in Washington Square Park. I was on my way to Trader Joe's when it suddenly donned on me that, hey, it's beautiful out, this is what you love about North Beach and you should be out there enjoying it with all the characters. When I grabbed a piece of grass on the west side of the park, the whole scene took shape. Near the bus stop were twenty or so elderly Chinese women with matching orange flags attached to their outfits, banging on drums in unison. Scattered throughout were folks sunbathing, throwing the football and frisbee, dogs chasing after each other, little kids running around, homeless men drinking beers and relaxing with their shirts off - their bellies protruding over their belts, attractive women trying to read in their bikinis (although I think this was for show), tourists wandering through (some Euros look amazingly confused at events like this), and a few hippie women giving bread to the seagulls (when the birds started to fly over us it seemed dangerous for a second, the way they weaved in and out of the crowd almost like Kamikaze planes - and I, of course, in my neurosis feared they would shit on my head). Saints. Peter & Paul Church, where they filmed that scene in Fearless, was alive with chiming bells and parishioners coming down the steps into the bright light. It was a majestic afternoon, simply a beautiful festive Sunday for the ages.

2. Last night I walked downtown. There was a funk band playing on the corner of Powell and Geary, with the most adorable little 10-year-old brotha doing his best James Brown impersonation. Clearly he was the feature attraction, as a big crowd assembled to clap and watch him get down. It felt like this kid was being exploited though. I mean it was 10 o'clock and well past his bed time, and the group - as entertaining as they were - seemed to bring in little in the way of making money or generating interest. And yet, I stopped for at least five minutes to enjoy the kid doing pushups and then jumping back up, spinning around quickly, back into the splits, and then boom - a quick two step, while another youngster passed the hat around. The boy was amazingly talented, and I had a smile on my face throughout, which was nice.

3. Later this crackhead followed me into the Tenderloin. Every time I turned around he would smile and say "Gotcha" - like he was purposely making me edgy with his presence. When I heard a quick ruffling of footsteps behind me I turned around with my fists cocked. He jumped back quickly and said, "Okay, okay, my brotha. Take it easy. We're cool." I told him to back the fuck up, and a few other black dudes on the corner started laughing at the way I got him to leave. When I passed in front of the liquor store they nodded in approval.

4. Spent late night listening to The Walkmen album (yes, again) over and over. Something about the opening lyrics to "Brandy Alexander" : {Finally close the door \ You’ve left open wide} seemed appropriate for the picture above, although the song is about something different than a sudden fight that finally concluded, once and for all, a four-year relationship/friendship. Oh well.