May 9th, 2018. High noon. East Palo Alto shoreline. Sixty-four degrees and sunny, the kind of day that makes you forget, for a moment, that everything ends badly. Especially here, where the ground itself is a monument to bad decisions. We’re standing on a Superfund site. Toxic landscape. The kind of place where American ambition […]
Continue Reading →San Francisco itself is art
San Francisco itself is art, above all literary art. Every block is a short story, every hill a novel. Every home a poem, every dweller within immortal. That is the whole truth. William Saroyan The Wave Organ’s this crumbling concrete jetty that some madman stuck pipes into so the bay could gargle its own tidal […]
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