Hey, my boy Del is on SG! Go say hi to delamundo! Stalk him! . . . Kill.
Per Dels excellent suggestion from a couple of days ago, I have decided to preach wisdom from the top of Buena Vista hill. Perhaps you have never heard of it? Attendeth, I explain:
Buena Vista hill is a park, and the park is exactly what you'd expect from its name-- a hill that affords a gorgeous view of the city. My ex and I used to call the area just North of Buena Vista hill San Francisco's G-Spot. It was where (had we only lived in a Universe not fundamentally defined by Entropy and its own eventual heat-death), we'd have bought a house and raised up those curly-haired kids we kept having dreams about.
The hill itself? Two city blocks of 30- to 70- degree stairs and slopes side-winding their way up from Haight Street. The view from the top of the hill gets Downtown/Financial District and the TransAmerica Building one way, Twin Peaks the other, the Marina, Palace of Fine Arts and the Golden Gate bridge in the third.
Buena Vista. Completely appropriate.
But of course, Buena Vista is not the True Name of that hill. The True Name isn't in the CityGuide, you will never hear it spoken by tourism officials, or city planners. The homeless people who sleep in the lowest tier of the hill may have never heard it. It isnt inscribed anywhere in our world, to my knowledge. Here in this journal may very well be the first time it has ever been written down. Were my circumstances even slightly different, surely my hand would tremble to type it.
But I dont give a fuck, SG. Look in my eyes and test me.
It isnt until you try to ascend to its loftiest reaches that the hill begins to whisper. It glides soft syllables up from its root and through your feet. They entwine, they decay, they leech oxygen from you. If you listen carefully, and dont discount your inner ear, you hear the following:
I Am Pain Hill.
Okay, SG. I am going to fucking run Pain Hill. I cant do it today; today I am defeated. But I will go back and back and back and in time, I will run Pain Hill. That is my goal, that is my word. Test me.
If I stop posting unexpectedly and cannot be raised via phone, you may assume that Pain Hill won.
Ill let you know how it goes.
-----
p.s. It looks like things might work out with God after all. I sat down with Jah Jah this morning and He kind of helped me see things from another perspective. I'm going to put my thing with Kali on hold for now, and just see what happens. I think She agrees, but might Destroy and Rebuild me on principle anyway. Stay tuned.
------
p.p.s. Mmmm. Chaka Kahn.
Per Dels excellent suggestion from a couple of days ago, I have decided to preach wisdom from the top of Buena Vista hill. Perhaps you have never heard of it? Attendeth, I explain:
Buena Vista hill is a park, and the park is exactly what you'd expect from its name-- a hill that affords a gorgeous view of the city. My ex and I used to call the area just North of Buena Vista hill San Francisco's G-Spot. It was where (had we only lived in a Universe not fundamentally defined by Entropy and its own eventual heat-death), we'd have bought a house and raised up those curly-haired kids we kept having dreams about.
The hill itself? Two city blocks of 30- to 70- degree stairs and slopes side-winding their way up from Haight Street. The view from the top of the hill gets Downtown/Financial District and the TransAmerica Building one way, Twin Peaks the other, the Marina, Palace of Fine Arts and the Golden Gate bridge in the third.
Buena Vista. Completely appropriate.
But of course, Buena Vista is not the True Name of that hill. The True Name isn't in the CityGuide, you will never hear it spoken by tourism officials, or city planners. The homeless people who sleep in the lowest tier of the hill may have never heard it. It isnt inscribed anywhere in our world, to my knowledge. Here in this journal may very well be the first time it has ever been written down. Were my circumstances even slightly different, surely my hand would tremble to type it.
But I dont give a fuck, SG. Look in my eyes and test me.
It isnt until you try to ascend to its loftiest reaches that the hill begins to whisper. It glides soft syllables up from its root and through your feet. They entwine, they decay, they leech oxygen from you. If you listen carefully, and dont discount your inner ear, you hear the following:
I Am Pain Hill.
Okay, SG. I am going to fucking run Pain Hill. I cant do it today; today I am defeated. But I will go back and back and back and in time, I will run Pain Hill. That is my goal, that is my word. Test me.
If I stop posting unexpectedly and cannot be raised via phone, you may assume that Pain Hill won.
Ill let you know how it goes.
-----
p.s. It looks like things might work out with God after all. I sat down with Jah Jah this morning and He kind of helped me see things from another perspective. I'm going to put my thing with Kali on hold for now, and just see what happens. I think She agrees, but might Destroy and Rebuild me on principle anyway. Stay tuned.
------
p.p.s. Mmmm. Chaka Kahn.
VIEW 16 of 16 COMMENTS
I'll be back for it sometimes soon.
Peace.
-Josh