At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Sunday, August 03, 2014


After returning from Marin last night, I should have stayed in. Down on Polk Street the mad dogs were howling, many of them stumbling around inebriated from the mixed drinks at the new bar at the intersection of Clay.
The neighborhood has changed a bit.

Kol haschalos kashos: All beginnings are hard.

I'm not sure I appreciate the nearest main road becoming a place where e-commerce migrants get drunk and rut. It used to be quieter. Yes, I objected to the drinkers stumbling around looking for a place to pee in the past, but as they are drunker now they seldom manage to come this far up hill, and usually two or three of them will hail an uber, so that they can continue their drinking and shenanigans somewhere else, where they might also communally pee instead.

They are far more numberous, and shallower than ever.

Loud, hormonally off-kilter, and indecorous.

Everything is new at some point.

Further north, beyond Broadway, Polk Street has become an extension of Union Street and the Marina. The rates of venereal disease and liver-damage are probably astronomical. That alone will eventually lessen the effect of the economic boom and chase them back to the Midwest.
We can't count on the fog to do that.
The bastards seem to like it.

It used to be much quieter on Polk Street.

Note to the wise: one or two drinks occasionally are all right. But more than that is pushing it. Your behaviour becomes an embarrassment to your companions, your speech will be slurred, and lord help us you might even attempt to sing karaoke. Your parents would be ashamed of you, and friends with cell-phones will post pictures that aren't flattering. Especially if you expose yourself. Which, as a young pampered dipwad Midwestern alcoholic of dubious morals and worth, newly away from your native environment and earning more than you ever thought possible working for a high-tech startup in San Francisco, is pretty much inevitable. And when you do, please do so long after you've insulted the wait-staff and had dinner (you've probably tipped a minimum, if even that), and please try to wait until minors and decent people are indoors. We know you can't help it; you are stupid and rather ignorant, plus given to self-centeredness and self-indulgence on a monumental scale.

On second thought, that's not a note to the wise at all.
It's a note to transplantees from the United States.

Oh well. It does not take all kinds.
It just seems that way.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

Newer›  ‹Older