Our table at Vesuvio. Alone. O my perch looking down at the street. Couples, foursomes, occassionally a triad. All about their evening business. On a Saturday night, fairly early still. But I've got my grey goose dirtied up already. These times. Alone. Searching. If I am out... Three doors down from Happy Donuts. The 3am drive from Santa Cruz to SF because I didn't know what to do with myself. Just because. Just like now. I don't want to go home. The home which is not a home but a place I lay my head at night. Vagabond. Gypsy. Ungrounded. My natural propensity. Hiding under my hat. Furiously and lazily writing. CityLights*Pocket*Bookshop. 3 Floors of Books. Books. Book. Next door. Will I or won't I. Maybe yes, maybe no. My poison seeping in oh so slowly. I am a different creature at night. In the city. More myself than sunshine. I can be. Frenetic. Flowing. A slow drip of vodka. Just one martini. Just one. Lest we upset anyone... Watching the street come and go. Tori piped into my head; slightly dimming down the chatter. But it's still there. The other. People. Interacting, Socializing. I am in no mood for this. Watching from the sidelines. I am here without apology, on my own. Observing the passers by reading the wall outside at street level. Those who are virgin to Jack Kerouac Street.

so i run faster, but it caught up with me...as it always does.

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Last Five
treasure - Thursday, Sept. 06, 2006
need - Sunday, May. 22, 2005
where is here - Friday, May. 13, 2005
save me. - Monday, May. 09, 2005
nonsense - Sunday, May. 01, 2005

ALL