Landmarks, Schlandmarks
“George Bush doesn’t care about black people.”
Kayne West in Hurricane Katrina relief commercial
When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t wait until lunch so I could take a nap, but the Elders willed me to take a walk, notwithstanding the rather Siberian weather. I hoofed it on down to the quaint and pseudo-trendy Fillmore before wandering into the Marina and finally right into the Palace of Fine Arts: http://www.nps.gov/prsf/places/palace.htm
http://www.palaceoffinearts.org/Rotunda_day.jpg
I was absolutely mesmerized. The giant Roman columns had me feeling like I was in heaven, if heaven needed a good scrub down of Rust-A-Way, that is.
Have you ever seen a boy so beautiful it physically pains you to look at him? It hurts because you want him and you want to be him?
There is a chick that rides my bus in the morning who has long, ass-length hair, a bit chubby, Latina, all dolled up in make up. She’s probably in her early 20s, and carries a little Macy’s make-up bag to work. I reckon she’s probably a housekeeper based on the company she keeps on the bus and the stop she gets off at, and I’ve nicknamed her Senorita Mujere ‘cause I admire how she gets all purtied up even though she’s just gon’ get dirty.
The only plus this week is the impending arrival of Allen, aka. Holla Scholar, in his first visit back to SF since gallivanting off to grad school a few months ago. I anticipate good times, noodle salad…
