When the Rain Stops the Photos Start
After weeks of steady rain and an increasingly sad population, we finally had some sun in San Francisco. For the week I worked, looking out the window to see hobos shoring up their tans, kids playing in metaphorical fire hydrants, and women of all grades of beauty walking by in delicate gowns that if backlit left nothing to the imagination.
When the weekend finally came, this financially enriched buffoon feasted on the sun like a turtle. Though unlike a lazy ass turtle sitting on a rock, this cold blooded beast kept his legs pumping from one sunny moment to the next.
I had to keep on with the force.
I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop until ’til I got enough.
A group of show offs standing around bikes for some reason in the Marina. Perineum crunching on bike seats club?
The glory of the male form demands a snapshot of someone taking a snapshot.
Point and suit.
Smelled like a feed store.
The Internet Archive’s classy truck.
Sad man on a bench.
Our crops include garlic, rosemary, avocado, and lavender.
Our tomatoes, prior to upgraded to 5 gallon pots.
A collection of formerly concealed tennis balls in the Presidio.
The Presidio gang.
Logs and gully.
I’ve always had a fear of holes with bees in them.
Lazy ass turtles in Golden Gate Park.
Remote controlled sailboat race controlled by a pack of old white guys.
A man starts the race late.
I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
Sprinkles on an abandoned Baskin Robbins table in the Sunset.
A full moon brings out the beast.
Japanese bush at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park.
A jay on a stone. Groan.
A lone koi demands snacks.
The miniature world of the Japanese Tea Garden. In this photo we see miniature plants and two pagodas.
Drum bridge with lil’ bitch on the apex.
Gull from below.
Following the woman with the parrot through the Botanical Gardens.
More lazy ass turtles.
Mexican hawthorne littering the ground.
Men these days need more than one phone.
The best job.
Testing prayer flags.
Carnage at Fort Mason.
Massive land blanket.
Trail steps to a forgotten beach.
Eating coastal strawberries hidden between poison oak.
Bird with the silly beak.
Steps to the beach.
Little people, long boats, and big water.
The beast approaches.
On Sunday, N was in town. J and I met him at our apartment and we walked to dim sum, along the coast to Lands End and back. From there, we entertained in the parlor and walked down Clement for dinner at a restaurant that specialized in dumping mango into everything.
The weekend is over, but it lives on in my leg pain, sun kissed face, and fortified back moles.