Streets Up Top
Tuesday. Awake at seven after a good night's sleep. Well, after a goodly number of hours if a goodly number of hours makes for a “good night's sleep”. Nothing special in saying that, the usual fuzzy head, reading the papers in bed this morning rather than carrying them off to breakfast, although I went to breakfast later at the usual café. Heading out this afternoon for San Francisco to meet the unusual crew from Seattle and various other places up north. I think we're just talking a few people who've checked into the motel in S.F., although there's a reunion party planned at a bar Wednesday night for those who've ever in any way been associated with the old San Francisco Rip Off Press. Have no idea who's going to show up, although I let an old crotchety cartoonist friend know the time and the place. I suspect there will be interesting people I haven't seen for a while. Best, I think, I'm staying in the city tomorrow evening. Maybe take a cab rather than drive.
It all sounds so very rational and safe.
Careful what you say.
Later in S.F. Cloudy coming over, they're saying rain later tonight. Hasn't rained here in long enough I can't remember, so maybe this is an omen. San Francisco, by the way, at least the part I had to drive through, seems old and beat up. Franklin Street was in need of resurfacing and driving on it today reminded me what it was like to drive in New York: the bumper to bumper traffic, the sky overcast and grey, everyone, well, getting on with getting on; better in the car than on the street. But I drove through an area not frequented by tourists, more the underground underbelly that services the well manicured streets up top. Or something like that.
Watching the news on the motel room TV set. Seems there's a primary today in Pennsylvania. Ran into Mr. B when I was registering in the motel lobby. We'll all get together later and decide on dinner. Exciting stuff, here in San Francisco.