evening

I feel comforted by the sunset, fading from orange and pink to pale yellow. But the night scares me.

marin

One night in an airBnB in-law at Muir Beach, with n -- I picked her up in Berkeley, so we could stop by the Bowl, which, nowadays, is a special event for me. We spent some time on winding roads, looking for parking -- silly to think we'd find it at Muir Woods. Finally we found a spot at Bootjack trailhead, which allowed for a short hike before it started to get dark. We found the house, just above Hwy 1 but accessible only from behind, via a private road. We made ourselves dinner and drank most of a bottle of wine.

MM came the next morning for breakfast.Good to see her. We walked along Muir Beach and then drove to Novato to have tea with mm's mother.

No rain until last night after I got home. An accident on the Bay Bridge -- two vehicles in the fourth lane, one had rear-ended the other. The passengers out on the road (a young man and a young woman who was holding a baby). They seemed to be OK. I had to switch lanes to drive past them, very close. It felt wrong not to stop but I couldn't see how stopping would help.

Tom

I saw Tom the other night for the first time since the mid-90s. He was in SF for a few days by himself, staying with a friend who happens to be married to one of my coworkers. I don't know why he decided to contact me -- I'm sure he's been in SF many times over the past fifteen years. But I was glad to see him, looking almost exactly the same as he used to look (a bit less hair, maybe).

We met outside the building, in the dark. He had not been confident that he would be able to find it but he did fine. We decided to go to my house, get my car, and have a drink in the Mission/Bernal, because I was going to Nanci's for dinner and he was going to end up at his friend's place in Bernal. So he saw my little house and then he sat in my car.

I felt old and young at the same time -- looking at him, listening to the cadences of his speech, so familiar from a long time ago. Realizing that I don't know anything about his life, and sensing sometimes that he had gone blank, disappeared for a moment behind some kind of barrier. I still feel for him, but my feelings are nowhere near urgent. I can't tell how he's doing, really. I can't even tell how I'm doing.

black birds

Leaving work in the dark, I saw black birds (crows?) careening and swarming in the sky above Washington St. -- they were cawing noisily, like the parrots (but more urgently). A middle-aged black man who reminded me of Charles Rangel was sitting on a ledge outside the Transamerica building; he was talking to someone on his phone but he looked at me and waved with his cigarette in a kind of salutation. It was weirdly warm.

coworker holiday love

Lunch with coworkers past and present -- Michael, Chris, Terry, Jen, Marjorie, Maria -- plus two who were before my time. Hard to describe the bond but it feels very strong sometimes. Because . . . why? We all work(ed) in the same building? We share some disgruntlement, some pride, some amusement. We spend 40 hours a week together.

After a long lunch we parted ways until the new year. I walked to 4th and King and got on the T. Then I walked up the hill from Third St. in the wind, white skies, and wet air. Changed into fleece and wool, put on Arcade Fire, and crawled onto the couch. Holiday time, what is that?

muni again

A young Asian woman sat next to me on the T, applying makeup and curling her lashes. I'm always interested when private activity takes place in public. I try not to take it personally--I mean, should she not have prepared her public face before she left home, for the benefit of the other people on the train? But I guess the Muni is a private public space. At some point, as she was tossing her hair out of the way before applying blush, I stopped trying to concentrate on the draft I had been reading and looked out the window. I noticed for the first time that the streetlights on the Embarcadero are crowned with crosses, or maybe fleurs-de-lys.

struggling

Sunny late morning, a bit chilly. Still no affixed-source heating in this house, except for the stove. Who knew it would be so difficult to find a heater. I am alright but struggling. N reproached me yesterday for neglecting her and that made me realize that I haven't really been holding it together as well as I thought. A rough night's sleep did not help. I feel like I'm looking at my lonely old age at close range. It's melodramatic of me to say it that way but somehow I don't care right now. Perhaps I should go back to the personals and exercise better judgment. Or I could get more involved in doing things for other people. I need to stop feeling oppressed by all the couples and families around me. 

getting old

I'm living in a little house in the Bayview.

Feelings

Relief, sadness, guilt, indignation, self-reproach, empathy, disbelief, disappointment. All of the above. I hoped it would work out better than this and sometimes I think I should have kept at it but then again I can't really see the point.

Today is Tuesday

Today is Tuesday and I am tired. It is better than it was a couple of months ago but I still wake up burning with heat from inside. I am wearing purple with green. Does that work? And my hair is tired, too -- it needs a visit with Domenique but in the meantime I have it pulled back and out of sight.

I will sleep again when I'm old. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I won't want to sleep because I'll feel very keenly that I have very little time left. I think mom feels this way now.

transition

I have made some mistakes in the past year but I feel like I have to keep moving. So far I have moved from one place to another, and then another, and soon maybe I will move again. Fear and anticipation -- it's hard to tell them apart. Sometimes I feel certain about the next move but mostly I just vacillate. I don't have to make a decision yet but unless the whole thing falls apart I will have to decide eventually. Is it important what I decide to do? Sometimes I think it is, and that's when I feel afraid. Other times I think I'm taking everything way too seriously, and that's when I start to feel capable of making a decision. I need to move, or move on, or move away, or move in. Something like that. How bad could it turn out to be? There's no telling, really. I only have a few decades left, if I'm lucky. So . . . I will make a decision when the time comes and I'll do my best to make the right one.

transit

On the 1AX. Young woman sitting next to me with loud radio sound leaking out of her earbuds. Chipped nail polish, teased hair meant to look unmaintained. Unappealing perfume. Nervous. I am trying not to be a fussy old woman. It is difficult, because I am hypersensitive.

mirages

So much is based on nothing! You know how it is. You home in on some things and brush aside others. You make assumptions. You don't ask yourself questions that might give you pause. You are at the mercy of another person. I thought I could help. I didn't realize what he needed, which was more than anyone could give him. I feel like a fool. And my life feels thinner than ever before.

I want to say that I'm having a hard time but I don't know if that's the truth. I am in a strange kind of limbo of my own making. I feel guilty that I am getting out, shedding a skin, moving away from a situation that has become untenable. I feel heartless, in a way. What was I thinking would happen? Now it seems incredible that I ever believed it would work.

Probably I expect too much out of myself and others. We are human and we fail.

text test

No sense in writing nonsense. Nothing worth saying.