These last three years have been the most difficult and depressing and strange and scary and challenging and courageous and wonderful wonderful wonderful years of my entire life.
I dearly miss the midwest:
My Friends and Family (of course),
Snow,
The "Blue Cow" at Caffrey's Deli,
Holy Land Homos (cause that's how they spelled it),
Swimmin' Holes,
Short Springs,
Humidity,
Theater on a Shoe-String Budget,
the West Bank,
Niceness,
In the Heart of the Beast's Annual May Day Celebration,
Grainbelt Premium,
The Turf Club,
The C.C. Club,
Treehouse Records,
Yards (Back and Front),
BBQ's,
Shorts (even though I never wore them),
The Spy House,
Hard Times Cafe,
Bicycle Rides to Diggers,
Valentine the Dog. . .
BUT
I dearly love my new town:
My New Friends,
Rainbow Grocery (my new family),
Fog,
The NY Steamed Pastrami Sandwich at Ted's Deli,
Taqueria Vallarta's Tacos (cause they have a mural depicting Joe Montana jumping out the back of a bottlenose dolphin)
Big Sur,
Perpetual Indian Summers,
No Humidity,
Music on a Shoe-String Budget,
North Beach,
Radness,
The Stern Grove Festival,
Trumer Pils,
The Hemlock,
Zeitgeist,
Aquarius Records,
Dolores Park,
BBQ's,
Sweater Vests (even though I wore them in MPLS),
Bazaar Cafe,
Vesuvio,
Bicycle Rides to the Ocean,
Cooper the Dog,
and all my Friends and Family (when they visit).
I once asked my close friend Adam Sekuler how long one can say they were "new" to a city. His answer was three years.
I guess that I'm finally home.
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