I do miss that in this town, anywhere you walk, there’s something worth walking by.
thisbelongsinamuseum:
In recognition of what would have been Jack Kerouac’s 90th birthday I bring you a one-way alley in San Francisco’s Chinatown. Located between Grant and Columbus Avenues, this isn’t some random alley, it is located next to a pub and bookstore that Kerouac used to go to when he lived here. It once was a garbage dump until 1988 when a bookstore owner started a transformation project. It involved repaving the alley, banning motor vehicles from entering, and installing new street lights. This took a while, but the new alley was officially reopened in 2007. Because it symbolically connects Chinatown and North Beach, the alley is inlaid with stone and metal plaques inscribed with poetry - poems by Li Po and Confucious are engraved on the western side while writings by John Steinbeck and Maya Angelou are on the eastern end. And no, I have never read anything by Kerouac, but all I need to know is summed up from this Freaks and Geeks quote: “‘On The Road’ is about being…on the road.”
(Image Source)
This store was in walking distance of three different apartments I lived in in San Francisco. Wait, four.
It had interesting oils and spices and ingredients that might inspire a need to make papaya salsa you didn’t know you had. The bus stops on this corner, taking you up the hill for a dollar.
Then. Then, the hill was a dollar.
And I’ve lived up a lot of hills.
thetenssf:
Big pple Disco
I put the treadmill incline on 15 this morning and just remembered.
I don’t think there’s a grade in this town I haven’t scaled. Ten years of climbing is a long time. Long enough to be part of you.
And uphill is easier in heels, than down.
(via love-jesuschrist)
Ohh. Wow. And then sometimes things hit you.
Not the orange house, but the one to the left, the blue-gray with the dark upstairs window, that was my house. That was my house when I was married. I’ve seen it since, of course. I lived in that town for another five years after I lived at this address — but when you’re surprised by it, the memories don’t get warning.
That was the window we put the Christmas tree in. The dining room with the built in china hutches that I painted myself. Behr “Khaki.” The china that lived in those cabinets is currently under the single bed the US Government allows me to sleep in.
Weird. Weird, weird.
scenes-from-my-hood:
this is salmon.
the city was not easy this morning.
but look!
i love it. i do.
(san francisco, ca)
You can actually see two of where I used to lives in this one picture. Maybe even three if the left margin goes up to 9th Avenue.
(via lovelettersto)
Noooooo! I move, and this happens. COME ON. Why, King of Sparkles, whyyyyy????
Britney. In the Castro.
Though, mah twerter’s about to get goooooood.
On the subject of Out of the Window plane pics, this remains my favorite, and the reason my answer when people ask me, “Ooh San Francisco. Did you like living there?” Is and will be, “It photographs well.”
I lived at the top left corner of the park there. The exact corner.
Oh okay, one more. The Golden Gate Bridge from up top.
Sigh. No kicking her out of bed for eating all-natural fair-trade artisanal organic cracker products, for sure.
Taken: San Francisco, November 2008.
If there is a pop-artier president, I can’t actually think of one. Though I wish Warhol would have had his way with Rutherford B. Hayes. The beard, screened? Dope.
In the San Francisco Bay Area, the toughest high schools are now forced to contend with yoga classes.
I gueesssss. I mean something has to be done, sure. But yoga makes me so antsy I want to punch things, which I think is the exact opposite effect they’re after. Plus forcing yoga? Seems kinda backwardy un-Zen.
Running. Shoes.
