Two Days Off Walking and Thinking; Noshing and Worrying; The Story of My Life; 415 Media Thursday

  OUT OF THE CLEAR BLUE I TOOK SOME TIME OFF; I needed a rest both physically and mentally --I'm back now with people lecturing me; "you know, you should tell (us) when you're gone" (something like that); the usual internet jerks that are like the center of the beehive: "see, no content" --it's hard to do free stuff."

Lovely people, that darn internet brings to life.

Yes, as Tommy Lee Jones said to Harrison Ford in the second "The Fugitive", "I'm tired."

And so am I. Yet here I am back today scribbling together a few news and notes. I succumbed to part-time caregiver and media maven blogger. Heavy lifting, no way, but mind-numbing, exhaustive brain manipulation nonetheless --I can't believe Herb Caen wrote six times a week, I know he had lots of helpers but he still had to write the damn column every day, including that hefty Sunday deal.

In total time tribute, I took two and a half days. I took some walking tours around Lake Merritt and ate some pasta dishes and fish at the local eatery. Mostly, I read a lot and tried to etch out a brief "to do list"; mind you I feel naked every time a day goes by without the blog being updated and those of you that come here regularly --including all of you that have sent donations and bought subscriptions); I felt guilty (surprise) that you weren't able to read and see fresh material. I have a conscience in case some of you think I'm just some snarky mean bastard. Heavens no.

Walking is a great stress reducer --it invigorates the endorphins and cleanses the mind. Too bad it couldn't invigorate the donation button and allow me to breathe but that's another story. The fumes have been getting more harsh and the stench is getting stronger but not to fear, I'm holding off a pledge break for now so I can figure out a way to make all this truly great journalism you relish a break-even proposition even if at the moment I'm losing my ass but making your tuna sandwich and coke taste better. The last sentence just proved beyond all reasonable doubt I'm a blogger.

If I were offering career advice I'd tell you right away before anything take a good power walk. I'd say go take a walk but adding "power" walk makes it sound more important even if it isn't; my delusions are kicking in--what a wonderful life.

I made it over to Geno&Carlo and the old standby, Bobby the Bull, was there. Bobby is an old, Oakland relic who moved over to North Beach when the price for a small studio didn't require holding up a bank. He was smoking a cigar outside and bought me a vodka and beer back; it was like the old days; the only thing missing was cranky, old Albert giving me shit about my loud mouth!

Walked across the park down Columbus and saw the tourists sitting outside enjoying sun and talking about nothing. Which given the current political climate is par for the course --I mean, the world is about to go to hell; North Korea and Kimmy Jung whatever-the-hell his name is, keeps threatening to launch a missile that could hit Ocean Beach; Trump is being Trump; the Germans hate us; the British are annoyed at us; the French have always hated us and now hate us even more; I wonder why.


 So I'm walking across town over by the Embarcadero and everyone seems to be in a jovial mood. The Farmer's Market is packed like a boatload of people searching for a vat full of sardines and 5 dollar cups of coffee. It's like a Whole Foods tour was let off the boat and hoisted to the Ferry Building. Don't get me wrong, it's a cool detour from the mishmash that is Union Square but far too yuppy for me. Especially when you see well-meaning women placing brussels sprouts on the top of pizza dough! Attention! Deport those women immediately! Make them listen to NPR!

As I navigated the environment and began forming an end-up card, I careened back across Market Street and over to California where I soon saw the comfort of Tadich Grill in the foreground. It was getting late, well, 7 PM for me --a BART ride looming, I was mulling the post route ride home and I became hungry. Beckstein, my late father's bridge partner gave me a hundred bucks for my birthday so I quickly settled on the counter at Tadich. The place was packed as usual and the old guys in the white shirts behind the counter were quick with the bread and butter. I had a huge opening seafood salad and a calamari steak! BA DA BING! Man it was good. Brought back memories of the scene with the family on Sunday nights at Spengers in Berkeley. Tadich is magical even if the crowd looked sort of out of place. Again, the tourists have taken over and a smidgen of tech people overwhelmed the counter with their asshole smart phones and lap tops. Too bad Bill Graham wasn't alive; had he seen any of this crap, he would taken that computer outside and thrown it to the ground.

My dinner is complete. The sun has set. The walk to the BART on Montgomery is closing in; hell, I've got a bargain today! The elevators even work. As Joe Starkey would say, "OH, WHAT A BONANZA!"

See ya later.