raybear | This one'll never sell

I was doing so great this morning, immersed in writing from the moment I woke up, with a brief break to eat a ham and cheese croissant at the corner cafe with

limenal before climbing steep hills back with my carton of milk from the store.

I don't want to live in San Francisco, but I can still love it in different ways, in the ways which I love all cities and people who inhabit them and their ways of constructing lives based on geography and weather and shapes of houses and ways of getting to stores and who's faces are seen on trains and sidewalks, inside pick up trucks weighed down heavy with broken down cardboard.

There are palmettos out the window (I think, as I'm no botanist) and a blue sky that changes shape every second as the white clouds roll and combine, passing left to right. I needed a change of scenary, and I got it. I'm going to change it again, going to the back bedroom that overlooks the backyard...and the hills....and the city and the bridge and the water....but even more useful than the view is the distance my laptop will be from the wireless connection, keeping me in check from falling down holes I've been wanting to get away from.