The Count Down

I have hated living in San Francisco. I won't lie about, this city sucks. It's dirty and nasty. It's nasty and dirty. In the Tenderlion I've stepped over used condoms, used needles, used beer bottles, and discarded cigarette butts. There's no parking. (Please view No Parking Album). The people are hard to understand. Chinese people in Chinatown would sooner run you over than acknowledge your existence. Homelessness is out of control. Homelessness people are getting their off their cellphones to beg me for money. And the answer is, "NO, I can't spare any change."

I've loved living in San Francisco. I won't lie about it, this city is phenomenal. Take a walk up California, headed west into the Presidio, and you'll see the picturesque doll house homes. It's beautiful. Walk to China Beach and view the Golden Gate to your right and the Pacific to you left. It's inspiring. The rich history of multi-generational Sicilians, Chinese, Italians, makes for interesting conversations with any local SFranciscian. Pop in to a bar in North Beach and strike up a conversation with a local and you'll get an earful of lore about gangsters, how it used to be, and why liberals are the most racist people in the world.

My time is up here. Well, it's up in 39 days. I'm moving to Chicago. I need a big city, I want a big city. I want to attend an art school with other commercially driven students. And The San Francisco Art Institute ain't doing it for me. I'm not one to stick around when things aren't going in the right direction. Do I have to say it? Life's too short.

Corner of Sutter and Leavenworth

Location: Cup of Joe coffee. Close enough to home, apart from the 2 hills I'll have to climb to get back. Yes, it's climbing up hills. My body is good to go at this point. I've over it, and in it. I'm beginning to love the faces, it's not been as easy love though. In New Orleans, I can shot a street, a person, a place, with the ease of 2 old friends reconnecting over a beer. In this city, I sense my hesitation, my reservation, it's stranger than I thought it would be.

It seems as though this city is an odd B movie and the casting director decided to cast characters who are nonsensical and in no way cohesive. It's a wonderful mess.

My wonderful mess to sort out and explore.

Yesterday I sat next to Conrad, an electrician & rock collector, at Swan Oyster Depot. He told me he also took photos. He excused himself from the bar, went to his truck, and returned with a ziplock baggie of 3 x 5s. He then showed me photos of his rock collection. Stones he found in rivers that resembled a penguin, Mary and Jesus, a poodle (he stuck on the wobbly eye), a deer, and The Star of David.

Seven Days

San Francisco--city by the bay and the ocean and that other bay. I decided to move to SF over Chicago. Do love I had the two to chose from.

I'm here, SF, to attend the San Francisco Art Institute. The goal, to tweak and perfect my photography skills. I strive and desire to be better, to be the best at what I do. I'm aware my work had hit a plateau, it was leveling off--becoming dull and boring.

San Francisco won, it took me in. It's taking me in and I'm learning to love it. Occasionally, learning to not hate it.

My body has nearly adjusted to the hills, the charlie horses are dwindling. But damnit, I'm not adjusting to the cost of living yet.