Last Friday marked my seventh San Franiversary but I had a work thing I couldn't miss so I celebrated late with a day off today, during which I...
- slept in
- booked flights and ferries to P-Town
- folded laundry
- paid a bill
- attended a spin class with Bevan and Dan
- played catch in Duboce with Ellie
- ate lunch at Duboce Park Cafe with B and the dogs
- took a nap
- chatted on FaceTime with my dad, my sister, Harrison and Ella
- got a pair of suit pants hemmed
- bought new dress shirts
- dropped Rosie off at her dance class
- ate dinner at Harvey's in the Castro with B and Sid
- let B hold me in a hug for as long as I needed
I don't have time tonight to do my seven years in the City by the Bay justice in a post (I probably wouldn't have been able to anyway), which is why I'll let a beautiful piece from David Talbot's Season of the Witch do it for me.
As the years went by, San Francisco became not only my city but also my way of life. From the time I was a boy, I wanted to live in a place like my father's theater world, a magic box filled with lavishly made-up women, extravagant gay men, and other larger-than-life characters. I wanted a world that could encompass all worlds. I found something close to it in this soft-lit city in the ocean mists.