Culture, San Francisco, Poetry, Music, Reviews, Short Stories and Life
There is no way around it, people, I am OLD. I mean not officially elderly, pass me the sherry and some comfortable slacks, but you know…not young, and for someone who personified youth rebellion, who raged at the world and pogoed her way into and out of punk-frequented bars and drug culture, getting old is […]
MoreI was dreading today. I was dreading today with a passion that I usually reserve for opening day at Oracle Park. I was dreading begging for an extension at the shelter. I was just plain intimidated and I seriously do not do well with anyone shouting or being upset with me, I know, my problem, […]
More夢の庵 I The still drops from the water cake Understated sweetness Cool Inviolate Heart beat slows To a restrained take on the universe And all within it Herded Harnessed Bit and bridled Steered Separated: Milk from curdle A slow process This is no whirl No dervish. This is time slowed down to a pin prick […]
MoreDipping in and out of Neal Cassady’s letters, some by him some to him, I read Anne Murphy’s words “Im helping paint the bus, washing and cleaning for Faye, it’s a beautiful morning, the Hermit gave me some white powder he thinks is ground up aspirin, but in your spirit (and mine), I gobbled it […]
MoreSo here is the deal, I went to sleep some time in the early 2000’s, distanced myself from everyone I knew in the gay scene – from my male gay friends, and our nights split between lesbian bars and gay clubs with unlikely and descriptive names (careful not to out myself here!), from my girlfriends, […]
MoreI guess the last thing you might expect me to be listening to is Kendrick Lamar, yet here I am. I was listening to Astral Weeks, as usual for this kind of disaffected day, whilst reading Lester Bang’s equally inspired piece on Van Morrison’s greatest work. Like Lester I get drawn back to it, something […]
MoreIt is one of those days. Miles Davis playing some reedy notes, wailing at me, phone calls going wrong, people calling me old, or commenting on the fact I have an accent, or reading about anti Asian sentiment in my beloved San Francisco. I appear to have irritated the Boy somehow, and he is staring […]
MoreWe stayed at the motel that night, and the night after. I slept through the night, curled next to Billy, the kids sharing a bed, got up, had another shower. And another. And another. I turned on the TV and put up with the glares and watched travel channel mindlessness, pawn shops, hot rods, Guy […]
MoreAs you go down from my beloved Medora, it becomes quickly apparent that the painted rocks, the hilly landscape of the little town where Teddy Roosevelt tried to make a success of ranching, is not going to last. This is not Montana with it’s skies and Rocky Mountain passes, and huckleberry bushes, this is not […]
MoreGoing on down the road, Your hand inside my soul Your thoughts in my brain Your gypsy rags on my back Your scars tied in an Old kit bag Nothing is real and Nothing is right Nothing is the same Not even the same old game Of razors on pristine flesh Needles digging new holes […]
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