2003-06-22 || 9:58 p.m.

|| just don't bring up the part about the guy in the red leather pants on the 22 fillmore. ||

san francisco adventure with my dearheart kelly: lunch on haight street and riding the bus to the fillmore. buying books and cold drinks and old lady sunglasses. walking up and down hills in the general direction of chinatown ('it's up and down that humongous hill.' 'it'll be a city hike!'). riding the trolley for the first time ever, holding on tight and worrying about ballet shoes flying off feet. chinatown and kelly with all eyes on personalized license nameplates, pointing at sea cucumbers and fish heads and a spontaneous dragon parade. crossing continents over to north beach, sitting upstairs at vesuvio to people watch and write letters and moon over the lack of one michael b. visiting ghosts in the poetry room of city lights books and lying around in the sunny patch of washington square park. writing a secret love letter to my sister on her bookmark, tucking it into her hardback copy of the new harry potter so that when she opens the book in 2012 to read to her daughter she will find it and get all teary. walking down broadway to meet friends at chef jia's for dinner, realizing the habitual tardiness of said friends and shivering at the curb while playing rock and roll name game. dinner and trader sam's and thank you, san francisco, for tucking my lovely sister under your righteous wing.

that's where the ghosts are. through that door on the left.

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