On BART last night, chasing after a length of tail coiled around a boy in the City…
I fell asleep on the train and criss-crossed the Bay enough times to end up in Pittsburgh/Bay Point (still unsure of whether or not those are two distinctly separate places even after having spent the last thirteen hours there) where I was forced to take shelter at a Motel 6 (smoking room - same price as a non-smoking room - smoked indoors for the first time since that trip to Las Vegas in March over Sergio’s birthday weekend. That’s the sort of person Sergio’s managed to live as - someone who has a weekend dedicated to their birth. Me? I dedicated myself to fucking up any chance I had with him by being an aloof son of a bitch who couldn’t show affection to another human soul if my soul’s absolution counted on it) and sober up over two bags of Famous Amos brand chocolate chip cookies from the motel’s vending machine. The taxi driver at the P/B BART station offered to drive me back to the city (“…anywhere in the city - Peak to Presidio…” I swear to God he said that!) for $125, but taking into the consideration the potential for adventure last night’s happenings afforded yours truly I paid the ten bucks for a ride to the nearest bed for hire.
