I’m in San Francisco! I’ve had a weird couple weeks, and I’m also — as always — distracted by this glorious puzzle-box of a city, so I don’t have much to say. I’ll just tell you that I’m reading from The S&M Feminist at the Polk location of classic feminist sex toy store Good Vibrations on July 5th. Come see me and buy my books! (I’ll have copies of Confessions of a Pickup Artist Chaser there, too.)
Also, general notice to commenters: I’m going to be at a music/art festival here in California starting Thursday the 28th, and through the night of Monday the 2nd. Internet access might be iffy or nonexistent up there, and I apologize in advance for slow comment moderation.
Oh San Francisco. The story I always tell about this hallucination city took place years ago, when I dragged a close friend out to walk along the cliffside. “It’ll be foggy and cold,” he said, and I said “No it won’t!” and then it was foggy. He didn’t say “I told you so,” because he’s a good friend. He also consented to walk with me through the fog for a while, anyway. It was still beautiful.
Eventually we came to a restaurant. “Come on,” he said, “it’s cold, let’s go get a drink.”
“Noo, I want to follow this tiny dirt path I just found,” I said. “Just for a moment? Please?”
He shook his head, but went with me, and then two minutes later the fog suddenly opened upon extraordinary ruins.
The Sutro Baths. In how many major American cities will you suddenly find ruins while wandering around?
And where else could you turn around after descending a staircase, and realize that the grey-from-above stairs look like this from below?
I love this place. The city calls you to take that extra moment for chasing down a tiny path. It also calls you to keep your perspective open to radical rearrangements of what’s behind you. The moral of the story is obvious.
Also, open thread! If you have something random to say, feel free to say it in comments. Or don’t.