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| San Francisco |
| 06.07.07 (10:27 pm) [edit] |
|
I'm not going to write a lengthy blog about how it is more difficult to paint at Fort Mason than I thought because after you get your shit together, then pull your hair back to keep it from blowing in your face, find a large rock to put on the pallet paper to keep it from blowing off, thereby taking up half of the pallet leaving you with no mixing room, and all the paper being scruntched around and the paint not absorbing moisture and drying up, and your hard surface blowing away how after overcoming all that it is still like painting in a constant ferocious wind tunnel it is impossible and everyone must paint the golden gate bridge from photographs for this reason.
I'm not going to talk about eating at Alioto's Cafe Eight (I give it a B). Or how upset I was when I found out my alcoholic father-in-law was sitting in the back seat drinking Bud Light the whole time, which is illegal in this state, but drinking Anyway, that was completely disrespectful on both of their parts. My husband won't let me have a few drinks in front of his aunt after a really bad day but it's ok for her brother to be drinking in the same car behind her. I just had to get all that out because it made me really angry. I won't even get into a few of the bizarre racist comments, no, not about black people either. But still i thought, "Did you just say raghead?!" And I wasn't going to write about going to the Haight (where I finally caved and got that Robert Plant poster). And how Jeremy's aunt foolishly encouraged conversation someone selling a "Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal" (aka, my self-printed worthless poetry). And he said by her accent, she, "sounded like she was from the wrong side of the of the Mason-Dixon Line" and rather than nod, look down and say, "Yeah, that's nice" and pick up the pace a bit. She felt it absolutely necessary to defend herself. Of course, had I thought of it, and not been walking quickly so far ahead with my head down I might have said, "You mean, the same part of the Mason-Dixon line Bill Clinton and Al Gore are from, right?" Anyway, they went home this morning. Glad to have our lives back, you know, drink lightly, sleep naked, etc. But I'm glad there were here with their rental when my window stopped working. Wait! I was going to write about music stuff! Crap! OK! Gimme a minute! Let me start over! |
| 0 Comments |
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