Hello.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I just want to thank San Francisco for the homecoming I received at 16th & Mission today. I’m sure nothing new can be written about this intersection, but blogging is what the word “masturbatory” was invented for, so here I go. I knew something exciting would be greeting me as I ascended the escalator from my several week exile to Los Angeles. Would it be people screaming at each other? Someone smoking crack? Some sludge metal band? Or maybe a man bleeding to death on the sidewalk like that time I met my mom, who had taken Bart in from the East Bay, at this station. Luckily, my mom grew up in the projects in Queens, and she swears she was in a gang (I don’t think she understands what a gang is), so it didn’t phase her too badly.

Today, it would be a performance artist—a combination of GG Allin, Blue Man Group, and Gallagher—who spun in circles and strewn vomit in the air like San Francisco’s version of the Bellagio water show. There you are lady. I am sorry for your fate. But thank you for this welcome. I might have thought I missed my stop and had emerged in Walnut Creek were it not for you. 

(And yes, I posted this photo on that other internet thing I do, and will try not to do that in the future. I am deeply sorry.)