If I were her I'd paint my body til all my skin was gone.
I'm not sure why I ended up humming that song yesterday evening while on my way into San Francisco, but it oddly seemed to fit.
Frisco's my favorite city, ever. Its dirty and disgusting but I absolutely love it. It's so overwhelming. I feel like it's the place im meant to be, but it's so scary. I feel like such an outsider, in a place I know I belong.
I woke up in new York city from my sleep behind the wheel.
Caught a train to poughkeepsie and time stood still.
Walking around with the group of kids I was with, figuring out bus transfers, and where to walk, I was torn between two feelings. An overwhelming love of the city, the desire to soak it all in and become a part of it and the desire to crawl into a ball, and tune out everything new an overwhelming in favor for something more familiar.
She wrote me a letter from San Diego, to qualify her luck.
These flights connect through Arizona, but I think I'll stay stuck.
So here I am.
And there I was. We wandered through Castro street, up and around the haight. I bought Tales of the City and a hippie backpack. This Hobo pointed out jimi hendrix's purple orgy house and I coughed through clouds of cigarette smoke.
I woke up in a car, I traced away the fog so I could see the Mississippi on her knees.
I love the bay area. I love San Francisco, so much. It's so over powering, and chill. I love cca and the cute little shops on college avenue. I love that everywhere I look are little artsy hipster kids.
I've never been so lost.
I've never felt so much at home.
The city is a whole new scene for me. Full new challenges, and fears and adventures. Somehow, I've always felt San Francisco is my home, and I have no idea why.
I'm not sure why I ended up humming that song yesterday evening while on my way into San Francisco, but it oddly seemed to fit.
Frisco's my favorite city, ever. Its dirty and disgusting but I absolutely love it. It's so overwhelming. I feel like it's the place im meant to be, but it's so scary. I feel like such an outsider, in a place I know I belong.
I woke up in new York city from my sleep behind the wheel.
Caught a train to poughkeepsie and time stood still.
Walking around with the group of kids I was with, figuring out bus transfers, and where to walk, I was torn between two feelings. An overwhelming love of the city, the desire to soak it all in and become a part of it and the desire to crawl into a ball, and tune out everything new an overwhelming in favor for something more familiar.
She wrote me a letter from San Diego, to qualify her luck.
These flights connect through Arizona, but I think I'll stay stuck.
So here I am.
And there I was. We wandered through Castro street, up and around the haight. I bought Tales of the City and a hippie backpack. This Hobo pointed out jimi hendrix's purple orgy house and I coughed through clouds of cigarette smoke.
I woke up in a car, I traced away the fog so I could see the Mississippi on her knees.
I love the bay area. I love San Francisco, so much. It's so over powering, and chill. I love cca and the cute little shops on college avenue. I love that everywhere I look are little artsy hipster kids.
I've never been so lost.
I've never felt so much at home.
The city is a whole new scene for me. Full new challenges, and fears and adventures. Somehow, I've always felt San Francisco is my home, and I have no idea why.
She wrote me a letter as we passed through Rockford, she said she won't forget
Maybe I do, maybe I don't, but I know I haven't yet.
Maybe I could live forever, if not ever I had known,
that you'd be waiting here whenever I am alone.
I started this post friday, and have been putting it off ever since. I spent saturday at a flea market (I got some sick waist beads), my parents came sunday (they bought me food, no more top ramen!), and I spent the fourth of july chilling in golden gate park. I've had so much art homework. oh em gee. I'll do a post about art at some point. So busy! I've got to say, I've met a lot of really chill people here.
"I never saw such crazy musicians. Everybody in Frisco blew. It was the end of the contentient; they didn't give a damn"
-Jack Kerouac
