static and distance

alrightalrightalright

One week almost down though it feels like much, much longer. I’m on my last day in San Francisco and getting my act together before flying out to New York at 8am tomorrow. The last 6 days have been a heady blur. From almost missing my initial flight out of Sydney to a hot seedy couple of days in LA to some incredible music over the last 3 days in magnificent Golden Gate Park to hunkering down on clam chowder and watching sea lions wrestle on the piers..it’s been a gas, man.

The flight was OK. Exhausting and uncomfortable sure, but pretty much as expected. I spent a night in Venice Beach on arrival. Cool place but a night was adequate I felt. Sauntered up and down the strip mostly, taking in the sights and smells, avoiding persisent scammers and beggars. Spent some time watching street basketball which was strikingly similar to White Men Can’t Jump…the trash talk, the arguments over fouls, the colourful characters. Met some guys in a bar playing pool who invited me over for beers that night. Dive of an apartment with about 5 guys squashed into two bedrooms and a tiny lounge room. Graffiti all over the walls and contraband everywhere. The whole block was one big party-Latino families mixing with surfers with frat boys with whatever you class the guys I was with as. They informed me across the road was The Dudes apartment, from The Big Lebowski, and their aprtment was in the background of a scene in the film. We hit a bar and shot pool and talked nonsense and I felt very at home, except no one understood a word I was saying(“You English?” the most common question). Had a stroll around the canals of Venice the next day, slept in a park and got rather burnt, ate a horrible enormous burrito and it was time to go to San Francisco. LA was cool but I can see where Michael Douglas was coming from in Falling Down.

G-Dawg met me at the airport and we jumped on a train to down town SF. We emerged onto Market street and I liked it at first sight. Not love, but a lotta like. Market St and the surrounds were bustling with shoppers, tourists, street performers and the homeless. The homeless situation I’ve witnessed here so far is utterly shocking, to put it conservatively. Made it to my hostel which is smack bang in the reddest of red light districts I have encountered. Lewd and bawdy and dangerous, the Broadway district of North Beach seeps into the Italian district, China Town and eventually the ultra touristy wharf area. I’ve enjoyed walking around and exploring, more so during the day then at night. There a couple of great bars around, the best I found being the Saloon just around the corner. Had a brace of big nights there-the joint is San Francisco’s oldest bar at 200 years young and puts on serious live blue shows 7 nights a week. Set up at the bar, order a locally brewed Anchor Steam beer and just take in the authentic unmistakeable history of it all and cracking music. The most memorable moment there was watching an octogerian couple all dolled and liquored up dancing with earnest unrestrained joy to Time Is On My Side. Made me feel kinda stupid about complaining about gettin’ old. Checked out the Haight district too which is probably my fave area, sorta similar to Fitzroy/Collingwood back home. Lotsa history, lotsa cool shops, bars and cafes as well as the ginormous Amoeba Record store where a dude could spend a years salary in a blink. Everyone here wants a piece of you, wheter it’s hey buddy gotta dime or elaborate scams. Saw a square American twenty-something fleeced of $100 on a bus by three guys playing the cup game. Dude was devasted. They didn’t use any force, just tricked him into handing it over then vanished. Geez I wouldn’t hand over $100 to anyone, let alone griftters on a bus. Guess they know how to spot the green ones…

The 3 day Outside Lands Music Festival within Golden Gate Park was fantastic but, of course, left me spent. The park is a beautiful sprawling lush area and the festival spread across a sizeable region of it. The highlights were many, though it’s hard to beat Radiohead. On the first night they played a mindblowing set enhanced by a dazzling mulitmedia/lighting show that left no doubt as to their stance as the best damn live band in the world. There were a couple of major technical stuff ups but the band powered on through a near two hour set of their greatest songs. The rest of the weekend was enjoyable-M.Ward, Drive-By Truckers, Bon Iver, Primus and Broken Social Scene all playing kickarse sets. The fog rolled in late on the Fri and Sat to cool things down but on the Sunday, the sun hung around(suitably) right up till darkness. The final band was a little group called Wilco who played a lovely show before the majority of the 50 0000 odd punters into the dusk. Songs like California Stars and Remember the Mountain Bed were tender, unforgettable moments amongst the fog (or was it pot smoke?) filtered sunshine and picturesque greenery that I’ll never forget. Wotta band, wotta day……..

Feel like I’ve got a good impression of this town. Would I live here? Hard to say. I would like to visit again and squeeze a little more outta my stay. It’s certainly an aesthetically pleasing place with a helluva lotta soul. Looking forward to New York though. On my third day my camera died and I’ve had some issues uploading snaps from my new camera but hopefully I’ll get some shots up soon. Rest assured I have been amongst it like a pig in mud and the slide shows upon my return will be long, tedious and possibly a little incriminating. Only to G-Dawg, of course.

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Apologies for crappy grammar/spelling…time is not on my side right now

What would be a good, clichéd book to read while traveling? If you said Kerouac’s On the Road, you were close but no cee-gar. No, I have opted for the following:

If it’s OK by Zimmy it’s OK by me. Dang the first page is enough to get you thinking bout the tracks, a hastily construed knapsack and stirring yer whiskey with a nail…

This train don’t carry no gamblers,
Liars, thieves, nor big shot ramblers,
This train is bound for glory,
this train!

Planning on getting a bit of train travel in, from New York to Boston and possibly Berlin to Paris. It ain’t the cheapest or fastest way around but I’ve always dug trains and the opportunity for reflection and introspection they provide. Plus, of course, the chance to view a whole lotta gorgeous country side. I saw a certain movie a couple of weeks ago that furthered my keenness for train travel. You may know of it…

That song has very much sound tracked my last few weeks and will continue to score my departure, I’d suggest. Clever boys, those Davies brothers. And that Anderson character. The themes of fraternity in The Darjeeling Ltd resounded heavily in my chest and had me missing my own siblings. There I said it. I’d like to think one day the four of us will ride a train across India or Argentina or pilot a submarine to the center of the earth, but for now I’m gonna have to settle on meeting brother Tom in Turkey real soon. He is taking me here:

Whoah! If I see any Jawas around I’ll be sure to sit down to a cup of mulberry tea with them and have them reveal what it was like working with Neil Young.

In five days I will be in San Francisco. This is exciting but still does not seem real. The bulging bag in the corner of my room makes it more tangible, as does my flawed melon gazing at me from my passport upon my desk. My next post will be from the US of A, perhaps it will feel real then. Right now I am off to meet an old friend at the Retreat for a few jars of black and a bit of reminiscing, a bit of nonsense talk and a bit of discussion of what’s further on down the tracks, just around the bend. A fitting final night in my Melbourne.