San Francisco, California
We rolled into San Francisco over the Golden Gate bridge. A perfect way to enter sparkly S.F. We drove to the mission and ate my favorite tacos in the world. We looked forever for a spot to sleep. We were tired and cranky, and finally found someplace on a busy, loud street. I had strange nightmares with all the city noise trickling into my subconscious. I woke up with a stiff neck and felt hungover even though I didn't have a drink.
Lately, cities make me feel weak - it just seems like an insurmountable chore to become or do or create or be - so much competition.
We are now at the highest point in S.F. I can see all of the city below me, and the bay and the ocean. I still am completely disoriented in this city. This town is brighter and more colorful than New York. I wonder if I could live here. It is an extremely clear, clean day and I am glad I came up here.

	We met up with my friend Hallie. We ate dinner in her neighborhood, Pacific Heights. She lives in a great little Victorian style apartment. Afterwards, Spencer and I went to our van parked in front of the mansions on Pacific Ave. to sleep. We spent today at the SF Moma. Now we battle again for parking and looking for a sushi restaurant. I want to go eat my favorite tacos again. I'm sitting on a busy corner across the street, and I see 2 men sitting together in a bar enjoying a pitcher of beer between them, and talking intimately and laughing. There is also an older guy begging for a quarter from everyone who passes by. I really feel for him; he seems down, sad, defeated, and no one's giving him quarters. Spencer gives him 10 dimes.