Unbearable for Some Reason

On January twenty-fifth I wrote that I was trying to shore up my blog and the NA before I left the house on the Friday before I wrote this.  Mom and dad were making dinner.  I had found some papers earlier and had the occasion to ask mom about them.  I noted that dinner was happening so I called my buddy and she said we would eat together.  I made plans to pick stuff up and grabbed my bike discards.  I bought a bottle on Irving and my buddy let me know that we wouldn’t be making anything.  There were a lot of bad car situations on Page and when I got to Waller and Market I avoided the median.

I had to ring my buddy’s bell at the gate.  She was winding down from work when I asked if I could leave some bike stuff with her because of the bad timing.  She suggested she bring the materials by the Bike Kitchen after work sometime.  She had ordered pizza and we sat in the kitchen with the roommates drinking the whisky I brought before going to pick it up.  One was at work.

We had been discussing a movie and eventually settled on Big Eyes.  We got the bikes out and headed for Octavia and Grove.  I knew my Long Beach friend would text me but didn’t know when.  We passed through the Safeway parking lot and parked in the garage.  We got a drink and talked before the movie started but had to sneak our drinks in via the elevator.

The movie was Amy Adams playing a woman that allowed her husband to take credit for all of her art.  I thought it was good and it was a fair portrayal of SF in the 60s.  I remembered the Walter Keane pieces from that era floating around a Richmond District flop house in the 90’s and that was the impetus for wanting to see the movie.  It seemed that my buddy had some reservations over the film but in all liked it.

My Long Beach friend and my engineering friend got in contact with me before the end of the movie.  I let the Long Beach friend know that I would send her a message the next day but never got back to the other.  My buddy and I went back to her house then the same way that we had arrived.  I remember that she had some misgivings about my riding style.  I remember that her roommate may have been in the back with a window open.  I went to bed around 1130.

Next morning my friend and I were riding up the Wiggle to Marin.  She was wearing a magnificent a green plaid skirt and with a matching scarf.  We went to Central Coffee where the barista recognized me as someone from Java Beach.  I introduced my magnificently attired companion to her and she served us outside.  We had an interesting conversation and she tried twice to cut the conversation short—a bit disconcerting.  As we cleaned up and started back to the Panhandle she explained that others were listening and that she was shy.  I understood then why I was being too talkative.

We took the Shrader Valve and went to the roller skating spot.  There we took Cabrillo to 15^th Avenue—she thought we were headed down Park Presidio.  At Lake we entered the Presidio and climbed to Pacific Overlook.  We looked at the view and she told me a story about a trip she and her father took on a sailboat once where they knew more about boating than the owner—the boat was essentially sailing backwards.

We took Ralston to a spot where she could put on a cute sweater matching her outfit and continued to the visitor center.  Then, after a few photos, we stared the bridge crossing.  There were a lot of jerkoff roadies and she clearly approved of my behavior towards them.  After that we took the main road and descended to Sausalito.  I noted that my companion had passed many people on the ride and was smugly satisfied that someone attired in such a her proper sweater and skirt would be able to do so.  We used my lock to secure the bikes in front of Benetton because she had forgotten her keys and went to an antique store.  I saw a Girl Scout book on how to use a compass that I really liked.  She was peeved she couldn’t touch the fur jackets.

We wanted to go to the burger joint that fronted on the road but went to the Barrel House instead.  We had a bunch of whisky and a burger.  A number of people complemented my friend for being stunningly beautiful.  We noted the bartender monocle and a flat cap and learned that he lived in the Inner Sunset.

We got the bikes and passed the Tall Ship warehouse on our way to the Richardson Bay bike paths.  We stopped under the freeway bridge and a little later were passed by some roadies.  One of them was a lady that noted she was slow in conversation to her friends and my companion engaged them in that moment.  Later we passed a bearded guy with his girlfriend.  They had a lot of panniers.  My companion had no trouble claiming the freeway frontage into Corte Madera.  After passing the mall and heading back under the freeway she told me about driving around Corte Madera in her Sebring.

We arrived at Sir Francis Drake below the 101 and I sent my Long Beach friend a message.  Then we went to the Landing Brewery and saw the bearded guy as well as the roadie girl and all of the people that both groups had been with.  Ironically we had arrived there before everyone.  We had a couple of beers and then followed the crowds and cyclists to the ferry.  We boarded despite the fact that the gate to the facility was on the fritz.  We got to meet many of the riders on the boat.  My companion wanted to take photos of me in the wind.

At the terminal we headed to 21^st Amendment Brewery because my Long Beach friend had suggested we meet her there.  We took Embarcadero and then doubled back.  We found my Long Beach friend at the bar and took a table.  I was surprised that she was traveling alone but she apparently had done this many times to celebrate her birthday.  I congratulated her for making it another year and she clearly hit it off with my companion.  She told us that she had gone to Chicago on the same type of brew tour and that earlier in the day she had gone to the Blue Bear too.  As if to reassure us she told us about some of the jetsam from a few of her trips.  Our friends in Long Beach had taken her out to breakfast the day before.

We then went to Mekkler walking through the SOMA and Union Square areas and I locked the two bikes up in front of the bar and then we descended to the lower bar and the girls talked among themselves.  When my Long Beach friend finally bid us adieu, my companion and I headed up market.  Later we noted that her roommate had made some steak—the smell was unbearable for some reason and we let some outside light enter the room and even lit matches.

In the morning of the day that I wrote this I helped a friend clean her house—even though I noted that this would cause us to miss Lindy in the Park.  I helped out by going to Whole foods and to buy food and wine.  Later I made appetizers.  Eventually the roommates were gabbling about in the kitchen and the dishes needed doing.  My friend said several times that she and I were going to the mountains in a week.

My friend and I got on the bikes then and went through the park to Andytown.  I showed her some of the ways to go and she took over at the shop.  She knew one of the owner’s pretty well and one of the other owners seemed to recognize me possibly as a Java Beach regular.  We had coffee and then my friend made plans with her buddy and then we swung by my house to grab some beers.

We then rode up Ortega to the reservoir for a few beers and the Sunset.  We told each other about our lives and I looked at the map and we looked for stuff on the horizon.  After that we headed up to 16^th and Lawton and then down to Park Chow.  I saw a bartender I knew from SF State while we ate our salad.

I noted that it was around then that we discovered that the birthday trip to the mountains was scheduled for two rather than one week.  I noted that this made things a lot easier and when we went to the Shamrock and refined our plans.  I made the embarrassing decision to sit in that one seat reserved for the more regular of regulars and when he said not to worry about it later I was further diminished.  We spent some time talking about our ideas for the future.  We rode to the park after that and were alone near the racketball courts for a bit.  When I got home I did a bunch of Twitter and FB stuff. 

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.