scenarios

Below are a series of scenarios de San Francisco: bits and pieces of my life out and over here.

Roast Right on Time

I started Roast 1 at 4pm at my place. Pepper, salt, veg oil for the bottom of the pot. Wait, we don’t have a DEEP pot. Run upstairs to ask for a pot. None of that type of pot (the ones with metal handles) there. Here we go baking pan with a poorly-fashioned foil lid. You. Will have to do.

I bike over to Rudy’s with raw Roast 2 and a cup of dreams. I prepare the Roast 2. Both should feed 7 folks no problem. Drink a beer. Wash n cut potatoes. Play cards. Drink beer 2. Back on bike to check on Roast 1.

14 blocks later and Roast 1 is doing quite alright. Hung with housemate. It’s cool, real cool. Call to Rudy’s to ask to put potatoes in boiling water. Stuff ready-to-feast Roast 1 in Tupperware, jump in borrowed Hybrid and float back to Rudy’s.

We feast galore and it is delish. Two roasts, Roast 1, Roast 2, prepared in separate flats for many people. Potatoes, mashed, no milk, no time for milk. Biscuits. I eat five. FIVE. Flaky ones – the more the flakes the more the phat content. Peas n carrots. Another beer.

I fall asleep sitting straight up on Rudy’s couch. Eyes flicker open at 3:45am. I fall to the couch, deflated balloon-style. Rudy’s on the couch next to me curled up like Rover in front of a fireplace.

Sol Sister

I have created the most beautiful jen-wants-to-go-to-a-bar-alone-and listen-to-super-sweet-gypsy-jazz-music-whats-up-django situation for myself. There is this bar I go to. It is dubbed Amnesia. I go on average 1.8 times each week, which means you will go to if you visit.

Ive been heading there for about a year there: Wednesdays are my favorite, hands down. Gaucho. GAUCHO. 8:30p – 10:30p every Wednesday. Accordion. Gourds. A man who plays drums with his feet. And two guitar-players who are russel-huie comparable in talent.

So I sit at the bar and the dudes approach, not cool dudes in most cases. And even if they were: ugh please don’t talk to me ugh, I say.

So this is when Sol saves the days. Sol is the loveliest of bartenders and one of the most admired / feared, conjuring wishes from young men that they could one day be just like sol when they grow up.... the loveliest of bartenders who – when upon noticing I am dyyyyying – just wanted to sit and listen please get these boys away from me and he knows it - oh it's obvious - it's in the quintessential annoyed! annoyed! faces i make – he came from behind the bar, i tell him how i saw our uncle... last week maybe? "Man, I miss that guy," he says. What a brilliant creature.

I now sit at the bar, lose myself in the sounds and tell any who approach that I am visiting family. Who am I here with? Oh, family. Oh, who’s my family? That super intimidating guy that everyone in this city worships who’s working the bar right now.

These are my Wednesday nights.

(See myspace for more, if curious:
Gaucho: top 79 friends, fo sho).

* * *

Final thoughts: I feel super, freaking fortunate. I have friends who can be described on a whim as PROFESSIONAL:

To-be doctors
To-be lawyers
Clowns
Polyamorists
Photographers
Vagabonds
IT superstars
Mistresses
Professors
Scientists
Architects
Ghetto supastas
Punks
Punk-asses
Mothers
Political figureheads
Superintendents
Engineers
Veterinarians
Comedians
Product designers
Musicians
Pastors
Make-up artists

My word.

* * *

Next to Final Comments:

I finally bought I second bookshelf and I am STOKED. Oh a place to place the rest of my books in place.

AND I am FINALLY reading ‘A People’s History of the United States” and I adore it. A definite must read to those of you who have missed it over the years. (Thanks for the final recommendation I needed, Martha).

Next scenarios include: Not Quite aBeauty School Drop-Out and Come Out to Russian River).

Love you kids,

Jen