Thursday, April 29, 2010

When you're strange

"People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down

When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange"
-The Doors

San Francisco is queer. A little too queer for me, and I don't mean that in the gay sense.

"Going where the wind don't blow so strange."

The prophetic words written by the poet in the sands. He carried a bag of cans and said the words were from the Grateful Dead. The sun burnt bright on the golden-lined dome. And I was done.

Vapid, trashy and inconsiderate. Those words ring through my head when I think of the golden state, and never any louder than when I watched the stranger purposefully plow through those meticulously crafted words. I'm out.

As is another friend. Lady Texas welcome to the esteemed ex-con club. Like water off a retired duck's back. She left with a shotgun bang as only a Texas cowgirl can. Don't mess with....

1 comment:

Tonjia said...

I understood every word.