m asked a how her migraines are. a has psoriasis that could be arthritis.
we walked on geary to presidio. the ocean was a couple of miles from us,
it was getting dark and cold. there was no fog.
do you have a headache, i said
i feel headachy, a said
tomorrow we are meeting with a’s friend julia. she’s a social worker who chooses
when she wants to work and in what capacity. she works with abused teenagers. i’m
curious about how, what school of thought they use, social workers help the marginalized.
i took the bus from geary and 9th avenue to kearny. a young thin asian woman
talked to herself in silence. i got off on kearny. there were asian faces everywhere,
sun light, tall buildings and the california chamber of commerce. at the dutch consulate i had holes punched in my expired red passport.
j has a dog for emotional support. she has millenial co workers. she thinks they are entitled.
buses with one way murky windows transported techies across town.
a had four margaritas. she was happy to see julia. she hadn’t seen her for two years.
julia looked like a squeezed tube of paint. she talked about her friend’s dubious lover’s psychotic break.
he’s a sociopath j said. he doesn’t remember what he does. he lies. he was talking shit about my friend’s kid. it was awful.
i was having a hard time. i wanted a’s attention. we had one of our great conversations before julia had arrived that could have comprised one of us. i was jealous of her friend. i hated how she had to smoke a marlboro light every half hour and how she was so close to her sister’s daughter, who wanted to compete with her horse and not go to college, and didn’t have a child of her own.
i’m sorry, a said. i only had two margaritas.
i guess, i said.
yeah, a said.
you ignored me, i said. i was angry. there were only two chairs. i didn’t want to stand. I sat down. the bartender said I wasn’t allowed to sleep. i wasn’t sleeping. i had my eyes closed. i wanted to leave. i wasn’t able to leave. i told you guys that i was sorry for walking away to sit down. i can be boring. you like to torment me. i think you said to your friend i like to be humiliated.
would you like for me to have said that. a said.
the bar tender touched my knee, i said.
a and i walked in the golden gate park to the de young museum. we passed by
two baseball fields. there were teams playing. they had legitimate uniforms. it wasn’t for recreation.
this gives me hope for the middle class, a said. techies don’t play baseball.
a wants to save the small farmer and the middle class. the organization she works for has a large cooler in a warehouse where they contain meat from small farmers that is transported to businesses.
you shouldn’t watch cnn, i said. you get upset.
i don’t get upset, a said. i get animated. there’s a difference.
in the late morning we went to a diner.
sheila likes cheese fries, i said. do you like cheese fries.
i like it, a said.
i don’t believe you, i said.
why not, a said.
how you said it, i said. do you like like it.
i like it, a said. you can be a dick sometimes.
you didn’t want to cook last night, i said. we should have ordered out.
fuck you, a said.
are you happy now, a said. do you have material for your stories.
we spent the day walking for ten miles like we did the day before and sharing uber rides with talkative and silent strangers.
san francisco bores me, a said. it’s not what it was. we shouldn’t come back here. i love being with you.
i fell from the small bed and hurt my thigh against the night table. i screamed. i was in pain. a asked me how i was. she said she wasn’t able to find the light. i labored to the couch. a went back to sleep. i slept on the couch for a few hours. i knew i hadn’t seriously hurt myself but i wasn’t sure how bad it was. i was confused.