Third day in San Francisco. Road through town on my touring bike - a great city to ride a bicycle in. Much faster than a car. As interesting a place as you'd think from looking at photographs.
Had three things to do: Get a new copy of my tour book at the book store (Market Street), since I just lost the one I had; go to the REI and get some underwear and misc. things and finally, go to the SFMOMA. When I travel anywhere, I have to stop at every large art museum I can find.
The bookstore on Market Street was easy enough to find as was the tour book in the bookstore.
Went to checkout and made small talk with the checkout clerk. When you buy a book about touring the Pacific West Coast while in the middle of the Pacific West Coast, you must, MUST tell everyone that sees the book that you're 870 miles from finishing.
So you do. And you catch, in the corner of the eye, the cute girl, near the door, half-listening. So you talk louder.
And you feel like a total badass. Since this girl. This girl is listening.
You finish the transaction, put on your sunglasses and walk out of the open door onto Market Street.
You neglect to realize that the door wasn't open, but closed. A huge slab of thick glass. Not a thumbprint on it. Your nose hits perfectly with good acceleration. Directly. Beautifully. Crisomsom blood comes gushing. Gushing. Gushing. Fucking polarized lenses.
You lean forward, just slightly and get out of the way of the door.
The girl that you were half-assed flirting with indirectly comes out of the door, successfully, by *pushing* the door, open. She turns her head slightly towards where you're bent down, trying to catch blood from dripping on the ground.
Without stopping her straight and beautiful and esteemed walk she takes a slight jab at you:
"That. That did not look like it felt good."
What do you say?
What do you say.
"Good thing I can... laugh at myself!?"
And you do. You laugh at yourself. Since laughter helps with the pain of almost breaking your own nose. You're wearing a red shirt anyways, so what the hell, onto REI.
REI has all I need. Especially underwear. I looked at this twenty eight dollar pair of underwear. On the package of the underwear says something like,
Three Continents, Twenty-Eight Countries, ONE PAIR OF UNDERWEAR.
God-damn it, I realized. The advertisement on the packaging got me.
I bought the twenty eight dollar underwear.
SFMOMA: I really have a love hate relationship with Modern Art. I do like Frank Stella. They had, "Zambesi" - a painting from the, Black Series. It looks like this:
I thought: OKsowhat. I like the slight Op Art of it and the use of house paint. Rules.
I went about my day. Stopped at the Mission for food. Japanese Vegetarian Restaurant: perfect.
