Stories

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San Francisco fog gray 8:18 am - Like army basic training here - a bunk and three squares and yesterday was storage and dump day : 5:30 am - My socks are laid out and my oatmeal is measured and ready to go ~ and at six we are on the freeway heading south ~ from SF back to my known no more ~ and a seventeen foot rental truck for 7 am : The freeway was a breeze 80 most of the way ~ as we drove into the huge orange ball sun ~ rising in the yeast ~ of the making the read : The truck was ready at seven and we old-homed it starting loading at seven thirty :

Morning of my most momentous re-meant ~ O beauty of my life : The gang is all gone ~ taking the little one swimming and to friends for baby sitting ~ then the big-two ~ off back to the estranged house for more work : I have been given a mission for later morning ~ to deliver a packet across town ~ over the hill-down into the depths of the fog ~ swirling across gray streets and shiny silver street car tracks : O for a cigarette on my third day smokeless suppressed desire ~ until eight 8 pm when ~ one as my reward : But couldn't sleep last night since probably overly tired wired or both - so in the ten be which-one hour ~ had two ounces of Kahlua and another cig ~ and crashed rather quickly till the 7 am hour of this fine morning my dearest :

We loaded for storage first ~ and it went pretty quickly ~ and when I say we-loaded ~ that were-to mean he-loaded mostly ~ and I helped all day to the best of my over the hill of be : We beat it over to storage ~ close to the truck rental place by ten : D Block - of row on row of one car garage metal roll-up gray doors ~ the roll-upper inside taking valuable space I thought ~ somewhere in the middle - a ten by ten nine foot high : A cash cow ~ I said to Guy and they can't manage a proper floor ~ too much lime in the concrete so everything has to go on plastic : The boat first went in the-back ~ bow-bottom facing stern bottom on either side ~ and the work bench in the middle I built myself ~ of 3x3s and and two by twelves ~ double decked and piled on top to near the ceiling ~ with my books and boxes of sculptures :

I have just showered-up ~ in the lush salubrious stream-silken flow - and it was hot out there in desolation row ~ as we hid in the shade of the truck ~ packing it in when ~ down the alley came the dreaded sound of boom-box and car-shudder metal throb ~ that stopped directly across and I thought I am going to have ask him to defer to my ringing ears ~ but he succumbed to conciliatory and I was spared : He was not tall ~ not short but stocky ~ and tattoos crept out from under his neck-line t-shirt - He had a stall opposite : Cash cow I said ~ and they couldn't do a proper flooring - The concrete is rotting and I am afraid my stuff is going to end up in China Syndrome : "Other amucking one's of a whiches" ! he said :

Just returned home from out in the fog bound SF avenues ~ over the mountain via Clipper street - and down to 19th and over to Taraval ~ to drop my packet and traffic is narrow and seems frantic and the streets are rough and bouncy ~ while I trying to remember my way there and back ~ and seven minutes cost a metered quarter - so a dollar gets you not quite the half of an hour or a day is worth 48 dollars : It is rough here ~ parking on the steep hill and just pulling myself out of the car faced up hill ~ could bust a gut ~ and try parking with few feet to spare :

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