Even on a rare clear day at the coast in San Francisco, we never get sunsets with the full spectrum of roy g. biv. We'd get several shades of an OK pale orange. No deep, rich indigos and orange, or fiery, passionate red, or definite streaks of green and yellow.
How can I be living in a place that doesn't have decent sunsets? The symbolism is so important! Maybe it's not fair making the comparison, since the sunset I saw tonight was on the plane, 27,000' above Syracuse, NY, considerably more vivid than most of the sunsets I'm talking about. I hear Tucson has great sunsets.
On the plane, I thought that I'm too tired to move. I'm too exhausted to seriously consider relocating. Holding back a wall of water with my bare hands? Or molasses? Maybe jello? Not quite as prosaic as Sisyphus. Not quite as dramatic as the Titanic filling. Not quite as romantic as the sea of love where there are no shores, all there is to do is drown.
I knew when I moved from Noe Valley to the Mission in December 2001 that I was too exhausted to ever move again. Relocating to another city is that times ten. That's pretty darned tired.
In the room I grew up in, circa. 1983
A day of flying that ends with Fort Lee Pizzeria pizza is indescribably heaven.
Sunsets shot from planes are always beautiful. 27,000' over Syracuse, New York, according to the captain.
That patch of green in the lower left is the large Sunset View Cemetery. If it were possible to swing around 180 degrees from this point of view on the ground, we'd be looking at Berkeley.
Flying over Oakland. The first place I lived in the Bay Area was around Lake Merrit, and it's in this shot, but I won't bother to try to pinpoint where. Suffice it to say, there is a small cloud over it, on the other side from this shot. Rte. 580 snakes its way up and down in this shot with the diamond of the MacArthur Maze connecting it to 980.
Birds-eye view of the Presidio with Crissy Field hugging the shoreline and the half-circle of the Palace of Fine Arts in the north-east corner.
Soaring over the Golden Gate Bridge:
We took off in high level fog, so it looked like a cloudy day on the ground, but we quickly got above the fog to a clear, sunny day. This sums up what San Francisco is to me. Everywhere else is warm, bright, and sunny, and I happen to live in the one place that is foggy, dreary, and cold. Bite me.
The Seacliff area is on the right, middle of the shot. The Golden Gate Bridge connects into the Presidio.
Waiting to take off. Airports are the ideal place to get around by bike.
San Francisco Airport. Going to New Jersey.
