The beauty of San Francisco is more than just visual. It is an understanding of sorts that the people share. It’s possibly not known consciously, but it’s there. A freedom. The people here are comfortable in their skin, and act out naturally, for bettor or worse. They feel little or no social pressure to conform.
We met this exceptional gentleman, Patrick, for lunch. He’s old friends with Damon’s booking agent, Wendy. He’s one of those guys who’s cool as hell, and a total bro. He got the tab at this great little cafe in North Beach. We sat outside, sipped on coffee, ate massive calzones and discussed the end of the oil age, reasons why none of us smoke pot (anymore or ever, depending on who’s asking), and the music scene. He lives a charmed life.
He had to make his departure, to head back to work, and we walked down to Washington Square and took a pseudo-nap on the lawn. It looked like the popular thing to do so we didn’t exactly feel like bums.
And the sun still follows us where ever we go.
