it's not all that unfamiliar to me. i'd been out here about six years ago, when my aunt was having surgery. it was a hold-your-breath moment in life (my aunt's better now, living life and happily married abroad in Indonesia), but the place seemed comforting to me. it was sunnier when i came to visit her, and more busy; i saw families and students along with nursing staff and such walking around. outside the buildings, all was cheerful. and not to mention there's an incredible view of the city from this place, up near Twin Peaks. i liked it then, and i like it now-- it's one of the first places of San Francisco that i was really exposed to, and i distinctly remember reading in the car that day two books-- A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and The Catcher in the Rye, and for some reason having read those while driving through the hills of San Francisco and looking around, i felt really influenced, by everything going on in that moment. it's a fond memory, and i really should like to bring those books back here to read again-- would those feelings come back, i wonder?
wasn't much writing here today as much as reading for my Harlem Renaissance class-- Nella Larsen's Quicksand is moving slow for me but it's sure an interesting read. and thank goodness i got a seat at last; had to wait fifteen minutes for inside seating, taking to a chair outside the entrance that was just out of reach from the POURING RAIN. so windy, so wet, but not so cold. still, better to be inside.
so glad the rain's calmed down, and i look forward to a better, dryer weekend, fingers crossed. but it's not that i hate the rain-- it's such a romantic disposition, and a challenge to the human spirit; it's really what you make of the rain and the shadow it casts upon the world. i love it, but then again i don't want to be smothered by it-- smothered by dampness and a possible cold, i reckon.
i look prepared, but trust me, SOAKED TO THE BONE.
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