| December 12, 2003 | The P-Dawg is Not for Pussies |
|
"I'm not expecting to grow flowers in the desert but I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime. In a big country dreams stay with you like a lover's voice fires the mountainside. - Big Country "In a Big Country" When we woke up on Sunday, it was sunny. We went to the Ebb Tide for breakfast (I had a goat cheese and spinach omelette), and then drove to his house so he could change his shirt. We watched Trogdor and all the Radiskull episodes on his laptop, until the afternoon sun heated up his tiny room. Then we opened up the windows, I took off all my clothes, and the sunlight trickled in and made patterns across my legs and back. He read me Nietzsche's "Geneology of Morals" while we listened to the Velvet Underground. I watched his eyelashes skim across the pages and his mouth as his lips sculpted out the sentences, and somehow I still managed to follow some of the ideas. When the sun went down we headed to Zeitgeist where we sat outside in the back and shared a pitcher of Anchor Christmas Ale with Andy. After Zeitgeist we stopped at a corner store and picked up some cheese, Syrah, and unfiltered sake and headed to Andy's place where we proceeded to consume all of the liquor, and most of the cheese, but did not have enough combined attention span to finish "The Big Lebowski" or even a single episode of South Park. Andy told us stories about all-boys' boarding school, and when we got tired, we created a new drink by mixing Pernod with Red Bull. We called it the "P-Dawg," and it's not for pussies. Sometime after midnight we were back in my bed, and he read me some Rilke and then we fell asleep. It's cold today -- it was like 42 degrees outside this morning when I woke up. This is about as cold as San Francisco gets, and I can't really take it. Makes me want to move back to Los Angeles. I dunno how I'm gonna handle Christmas in Boston next week. I think it's in the twenties there and no doubt there will be snowstorms. I'm not physically or mentally prepared. I think the next season of "Survivor" should be held in a small, cold Massachusetts town in December or January. The frigidity would surely drive those contestants insane. Another version of "Survivor" I'd like to see would send twelve Mission hipsters to live for one month entirely in the Marina. Yes, that would be entertaining. Labels: andy, august, sanfrancisco, sf posted by Jess Barron @ 9:17 AM 
|
<< Home