Hither and Thither #32

the physical possibility of inspiring imagination

I arrived to the Greater England Area just a few hours too late to go see this. I might’ve taken a train to Liverpool just for this. I might have.

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There are a lot of ways to be at odds with how your brain sees your body and how your body actually is. This was a new one to me.

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I see this message more often lately (though maybe still not often enough), and oh, it makes my heart soar. For a YA version (though still pretty effective), see the Ruby Oliver books.

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All along, I’d been told cats speak French. Apparently not. Though I will say my own were nowhere to be seen when this stuff was erupting from my computer.

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Your regular installment of Andrew W.K. makes you cry.

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It is possible to have absurd amounts of money and also a little sense. I wish there was more of this.

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My friend!

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You don’t drool enough. No, seriously, get on that.

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If I walked into a New York subway car and saw this, I might swoon from the wonderfulness.

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I love when other people create roundups of my city. Eff that Storyville business, though.

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We are better at valuing things if we have lacked them.

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And, finally, a rad roundup about drawing the female body by women who have drawn their own bodies.

Being in San Francisco Inspires Me to…

koi stencils on haight street in san francisco…make and carry stencils.

heart stencil on haight street in san franciscoSeriously.

zines copy shop sign san franciscoTo make zines! (Granted, that doesn’t take much. The only thing I lack these days is time.)

colorful houses off haight street in san franciscoTo live in a beautiful cake.

extremely ornate house off haight street in san francisco…to live in a freaking work of art.

very very ornate house off haight in san franciscoDude.

mission-drug-poster…to make silly bullshit, make a bunch of copies, and post them everywhere.

mission-cereal-poster…to eat cereal.

golden-gate-park-rainbow-steps…to own a big rainbow staircase. In pretty much any context. I can live under it like Harry Potter, I don’t care.

golden-gate-park-musicians…to lay in the grass and talk for a while. (No, not to dance. I am not shy about dancing, not even a little, but San Francisco and I diverge in that I do not do it in the full daylight in a park. No.)

fishnet legs on haight street in san francisco…to think about Bourbon Street.

the alembic bar, san francisco…to drink cocktails made to be paired with Girl Scout cookies. One of the only regrets of my trip is that I’d already reached my booze threshold for the evening by the time we passed The Alembic. (That I reached it by splitting a couple wee pitchers of sangria at Cha Cha Cha makes it almost worth it. Almost.)

And also:

  • To drink more awesome beer. That’s a greater quantity of awesome beer, I mean – not beer of increased awesomeness. I’ve got that down. But San Francisco? Also has their beer game nailed.
  • To get a job that pays a lot more than I make now (ah, the life of a writer)
  • To be a character in Tales of the City, which I surely need to go back and finish reading

This was my fourth or fifth time going to San Francisco, and for some reason, it hit me so much closer to the heart this time. Now I get to figure out what to make of that.