Not trying to be a creeper but I follow lesbiansinsf, liked your photo and read that you haven't found a good deli in SF.
Sooo, long story longer, I'm figured I'd offer a suggestion. There's a great deli place on 19th Ave and Irving in the outer sunset called Lucca Foods, they make amazing sandwhiches. :)
I will absolutely check them out. I have found another deli, on 19th called Rhea’s that is pretty good… but thanks!
I am saving the last dance for you pops. What’ll it be? A wild blues-y number? Like the times you would pound on the upright pretending to be Dylan or Waters? We could waltz to Sinatra like you did in the quiet hums of night with our mother- us kids wide eyed and watching drowsily from the stairs- dreaming of our own lovers humming somewhere out there waiting to be found by us so accidentally the way you did with her? We can dance in celebration to our blood deep lineage, our golden ghosts and thickened skin. Witches and rabbis and tramps and teachers and…Or maybe I will whirl around in the yard like the gypsies before me? Ah damn, but we burned that down to bone and ash and married the remains of haunted mansions and peeled wall paper with dreams of a sunnier, orange groved coast. Left a swirling winter for the black pacific that lashes so lightly at the foot of those Marin Hills (that looked always to me like sleeping green beasts,) as the red gates smiled us into a small towered city. Or we could talk wine and I’ll take you in a derive and you can tell me about the situationists, we will ramble around the black lighted mission that will remind you so much of those bohemian Brooklyn streets that once filled you too with the rapping tattoos of the beat poets, driving every step of your twenties. And now I wax poetic in your honor old man, a ritual in the making maybe- only the different coasts, trading your stoned lazy jazz of New York for the dervish of drumming that fills these mission streets… We could sit around old world oak tabled drinking whiskey while you spin a lectern or two about the stars and the earth and the god that so tightly binds us- you will paint trees of faces and mothers, exiled fugitives with the same names as us. As children we will be wild eyes at the thought of our blood meaning hundreds of lives before our own, With you Father I stand on mountains of pride, I dance alone and surrounded by those I love with the blood of you and my Venus haired mother, your eternal lover- lungs filled with simcha and love. So lets dance our own histories and toast to all the moments you have allowed us, without you dad I would be wordless, passionless, nameless.
I am listening to zola jesus and wandering around this city and my feet are sore and my lips are sore and I feel a complacency wash over me like this fog that has snuggled it’s way into the city and now lay thick over us all like a blanket that feels all too comfortable.
And I wonder where I will be in one year for now, where I will be with out this security without this warmth without the pains that come from living in a city that is too small and I must tell you that a smile has spread across my face so many times this day even though maybe it is not warrented or maybe it is just not appropriate.
I keep rounding corners taking the advice an beyond human girl gave me yesterday told me to just follow my inuition and let it take me where I needed to go and so I crossed over my steps many times in fact, from the Haight to the Castro to the Mission to the Castro again and then I impulsively boarded a train and I knew what I was looking for and knew that I most certainly would not find it. and so then I was in Union Square where impossibly the shadows are darker and the fog is closer and the people are stranger and nothing is warm or comforting and all the gray is fucking sickening and so I hold my stomach and try not to retch on the streets that are already filled with so much sick.
I found myself again in this kind of Mission a little tired and a lot more sore and the smile has since worn off although the elation has not, and now I am waiting and assume this pose until what I want comes to me. Like a green flash in the night that wakes no one in the house hold up but me and suddenly I know what I am supposed to do, where I am supposed to go, and again I smile.