There's so much to do here it's overwhelming. Festivals every weekend and concerts every night (not that I've gone to any...YET). I thought I'd share a few photos from the last week.
Alamo Square. The row of Victorian houses are the apparently infamous "painted ladies." So far all I know about this park is that there's a great view, half the park is "dog crap central" (according to G), and it gets really cold and windy there in the evenings, like today as we sat on a park bench trying to eat pizza.
Golden Gate park...no buffalo in sight...
...just some weirdos.
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
-Carl Sandburg, "Fog"
In front of a Hayes St. apartment. I appreciate the quotation marks.
I got on the BART going the wrong way tonight, but at least I got to see the Oakland BART station (and I will never make the mistake again).
6 comments:
Fog, fog, fog:
"The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep."
(You know who that is, right English major? What is it with fog and cat imagery???)
I was thinking of Mr. Prufrock, too, from that poem... which probably was inspired by.. whatever. Anyway, I got to see the Lafayette Bart Station once when I went the wrong way. You really do only make that mistake once. Good or you for doing it early on :)
Faith. Megan. I love you guys so much. That's one of the images that stuck with me from reading the poem in Bain's class (Megan). That, him being stuck on a pin like a bug, and the "ladies of the night"s' arm hairs. Why does no one else write poetry about arm hair?
P.S. I think Prufrock = Bain. That's all I can imagine when I think of the narrator in that poem: the self-conscious neuroticism, the premature balding, the thinness...
Oh my gosh!!! You're so right! Hahaha, oh no.... Haley, you ruined the poem for me!!! Now all I will think of is Bain when I hear that poem...ahhhh.... :)
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