the last pay phone in the world
October being ushered in with 80 degree weather, which is enough to make you forget that it’s supposed to be fall, a more apt new year compounded by 16 years of public school and the fact that the weather actually changes, and in San Francisco it gets hotter.
Spent the early afternoon yesterday camped at a coffee shop with friends trying to make a Match.com profile for my roommate’s sister. The things you would write about your friends are different from the things they would write about themselves, and the pictures they would choose. After nearly an hour struggling over a 100-character about me section, my roommate called for a surrender telling us that this really wasn’t working out. “Too many blowjob jokes?” I asked. “Too many blowjob jokes,” she answered. I guess we had wanted different things from the relationships; both ours and the one her sister was about to have with a stranger.
We retired to someone’s stoop. The afternoon seemed long already, but it was barely 2pm. I left for my first book club meeting at a beautifully situated apartment in Pac Heights. The mansion across the street was supposedly haunted. You are required to warn people if someone has died in the house. We talk about bad energy. If I believed in ghosts I would have to reevaluate my entire definition of reality. Total reevaluation of reality takes too long. I don’t believe in ghosts. Just Harry Potter.