a city that is crisp and clear

One nice thing about being far away is that it allows me to look back at San Francisco from a distance. In my memory things are crisp and the air is clear. Billowy fog rolls over twin peaks. The city is small and compact. Streets are familiar. Friends are full of energy and excitement with ideas and news bubbling out of their mouths. A hint of fall chill is in the air with sun reflecting off the victorian houses and the bay glittering in the background. Small crooked bookstores and big cavernous warehouses hold a mix of interesting people. Middle Eastern music wafts out of my rooommate's room and everyone is planning their halloween costume. Is it possible to live in the past and the present? That isn't the most recent San Francisco in my memory. This sparkly recollection of the city describes when everything was my own version of Tales of the City. When coincidence was everywhere and anything was possible. That is not the San Francisco I left. But, maybe it will be the one I go back to.

outfoxing the hawk

When the weather starts turning cold the true nature of this city emerges. The fortified brick buildings, the double-paned windows, and the gritty grimy grayness. Old signs adorn old store fronts. Coldness and darkness will soon take over the green growing landscape of summer. People bundling up as if it were a natural reflex with shoulders hunched forward. Glowing windows in thick buildings, neon lights inviting you to come inside and have a drink. Resignation of the bus riders. I look forward to the extremity of winter, as if it were an extreme sport, to see if I can survive "the hawk's" assault. Hoping the the inside-time will expose some great internal answers. As I am often told here, "You have to be crazy to move here from California." And it is not even fall yet.

just a crow's fly

Sitting on a porch and rocking in a rocking chair is what I've been doing. North Carolina has wispy tall pines and a lovely beach. People in the South say things like, "It was just a crow's fly away." They eat chipped beef. Big front porches on the old houses look quaint combined with the clapboard shutters. I witnessed an entire golf game – the game does have it's charm. And I think the sign that said "Beware of the alligators" was for real, but I'm not sure. Cable TV, Ms. Pacman, and snack food is comforting. I feel like navel gazing lately, whether I'm in North Carolina or Illinois. All introspection is what is going on. Describing the outside of things is much easier than describing the inside.

pre-teen

Two men next door are busy tonight putting in a brick patio, I can hear them hammering. I can also hear the music they are blasting. They are listening to the cheesiest love songs sung by I don't know who, but she has a very high pitched voice. It is worse than songs I listened to when I was 12. Speaking of being 12, lately I have been having that adolescent feeling of cringing at being noticed in public and hoping no one on the bus gives you a look or says anything. In general, I feel more exposed here in Chicago as a female. I don't like men looking at me or whistling. I just don't. And if I were braver I would tell them to fuck off. I think this adolescent feeling is about more than the unwanted public attention but it is not bloggable material, although it is funny that I feel 12 again as I am getting gray hair.

big city of dreams

Like most cities, Chicago is full of contradictions. Daisies packed in dirt strain towards the sun leaving me wondering who plants hundreds of daisies in a Walgreen's parking lot. A young girl randomly yells at me, "I'll kick your ass if you don't give me my money!" Water drops off the ceiling and onto passenger's heads, which seems to be a phenomenon of Chicago buses along with cockroaches. Yard sale signs crowd the utility poles, advertising, "There's something for everyone! Really great stuff!". The girls upstairs have a "Three Friends Lemonade Stand" one weekend. There are really good avocados at Stanleys vegetable store which enables A. to make really good guacamole. A young guy runs through my front yard with a gun which means the gang boundaries may have moved over to my block.

from beirut to those who love us

My friend in Beirut replied with a video. I couldn't find the video online, so I have transcribed the text for you to read:

From Beirut to those who love us.
July 21, 2006

(woman singing):
One of whom are dear to us
Great those who used to care for us
Tell them whatever may happen

(sound of bombs interrupts her singing)

"I can't go on"
"Repeat, repeat"

(sound of bombs)

(Narration:)
We are around 4 million people
So far, 150,000 of them have left the country
And we were hit by 16,000 missiles
Israeli missiles
At first we disagreed on how to address you
Do we speak to you as Arab viewers?
Or as Europeans?
In the end
We agreed that it is irrelevant
No one is listening anyway
No one heard about a half million displaced
Half a million displaced
More than 300 martyrs
And 1000 injured
Did you hear of a town called Marwahin?
Marwahin?
Srifa?
Qana and Al Mansouri?
Sabra and Chatila?
Dir Yassin?
Kifr Qassim?
Massacre!
Massacre.
Massacre.
A moment of silence..

Now, listen well
We are besieged
And the smell of gunpowder is in the air.
Gunpowder, and the world is watching..
We are beseiged because the world is watching
What matters is
We still have a bit of food and water
And pride
And dignity
And love
We are 4 million people
4 million and one
One who was born today in a school under seige
We are here
Where are you?

One of whom are dear to us
Great those who used to care for us
Tell them whatever may happen
Don't forget to care for us