Mid-June on the Bay and the wind’s barely showing up for work. We’re drifting more than sailing, which is fine. Perfect, actually. The kind of lazy afternoon where doing nothing becomes an art form, where the only ambition is another Pacifico and maybe, if you’re feeling industriative, pointing your phone through the empty bottle at the city.
Saroyan said if you’re not alive, San Francisco will bring you to life. What he didn’t mention is what to do when you’re already alive, pleasantly buzzed, and the breeze has clocked out early. So you fuck around. You hold that golden glass bottle up like some kind of dime-store kaleidoscope and frame the skyline through its neck. Coit Tower refracted. The Transamerica Pyramid bent slightly by cheap Mexican lager residue and geometry. The whole goddamn city filtered through your afternoon’s consumption.
There’s something honest about it, this view. Not the postcard version. Not what you’re supposed to see. But what you actually see when you’ve been out here long enough that your phone battery’s dying and you’ve stopped checking it anyway. The city shimmering through glass, through beer, through the haze of doing absolutely nothing while the boat rocks gentle beneath you.
Saroyan understood. This place is made for delightful adventures, sure. But also for this: for empty bottles and experiments. For creativity born of boredom and heat and a sail that’s barely filling.
If you’re alive, you can’t be bored in San Francisco. If you’re not alive, San Francisco will bring you to life…… San Francisco is a world to explore. It is a place where the heart can go on a delightful adventure. It is a city in which the spirit can know refreshment every day.
William Saroyan