saturday.
went to brunch alone. a young gentleman sitting next to me at the bar asked me "do you choose to dine alone?"
i said yes. but, really, does anyone? it is fine with me when it ends up that way, and it might even be enjoyable, but choose it? no, not really. i said yes though.
went for a walk, bought a new scarf, came home, felt real sad, didn't know quite why, something about getting older and fading beauty. took myself to the movies but left the house hours before the movie was supposed to start. took the 22 bus past the theater and almost to the bay, walked back, hurting my ass and thighs with the climb up fillmore. was rewarded with romantic view of golden gate bridge at night. something about it seemed a shame, looking at it felt wasteful.
called my mom, she mentioned grandkids and how my cousins have like 10 kids. told her she was being insensitive to my plight of being a independent woman surrounded by people who are breeding.
in pac heights, saw ellen & chris and some of their friends through the window of a cafe. pressed my face against the window and opened my mouth to do a 'blowfish' at them. went inside and talked to them. it seemed like there were a lot of pauses. i hadn't expected to see anyone and wasn't sure what to say. this is the second time i've run into ellen during a night of solitary wandering and wasn't sure what to say for myself last time either despite being glad to see friendly faces.
after we said goodbye, i went into the bookstore next door to the cafe: "browser books." old people were picking up bestsellers and saying "have you read this? i've heard it's quite good" to each other, loudly.
walked to the theater. outside it, gave change to the guy with the weird eyes who always begs there, he usually says "i love you" afterward but not tonight.
saw "a serious man." mindblowing.
when i left the movie, i couldn't find a cab. stood around on the corner of fillmore and geary watching ratty homeless guys use flashlights to help other people hail cabs. finally one came around the corner, but there was a couple in the backseat passionately kissing. seeing that broke me open emotionally, then i looked up and noticed the moon. intense waves of loneliness came over me. i missed a lot of things, just then, and a lot of people, and a lot of times and places. then, when i started to really think about the people and times i was missing, it started to make me feel pretty bleak, because i couldn't decide or remember if i'd ever been truly connected during those old times, to those former lovers and friends, either.
gave up on the cabs, which all had fares in them already, and walked through a bad neighborhood, trying not to notice orion too much and feeling overwhelmed with being alone and thinking about the fundamental human need to merge with another, and to be accepted by and cared for by others. and thinking about how much pain comes from the persistent struggle to do so. thought about all the lonely people, for real, really thought about them, really felt them. walked by a guy asleep on the steps of a church, his face turned upward and illuminated by the streetlights. his vulnerability was a little too much to take. for a few blocks everything seemed like a symbol of human suffering and loneliness, my own included. tried to figure out if there was anything i could do about it. like, what? become a nurse or a social worker? move away from san francisco so i don't have to see all this humanity? just start hugging people more and being a better listener? just love MORE? came to no conclusions.
eventually i hailed a cab, still somewhat overcome but in no mood to confide in any cab drivers. luckily all the cab driver wanted to talk about was rogue cabs without medallions, and how i should call the police on them should i ever get in one accidentally, and to never take a towncar because last week "the driver of towncar, he try to rape!"
at home, yoko came running to the door to greet me.
