In March of 1989, I drove a car out to my mom in California. Once there, I enjoyed a little free time, so Joy and I drove up to San Francisco (unfortunately, we didn’t take the Pacific Coast Highway, which I would have really loved and have always wanted to do). Of course, we did all of the touristy things -- Ghiaridelli’s, the wharf, clam chowder in a hollowed out loaf of bread, the cannery, trolleys, Chinatown, and the ferry into the harbour. There’s a poem about it on my poetry page at my Geocities home, but I won’t tell you which one... I want you to read them all!

This first photo was shot at her uncle’s house, where we were staying. We didn’t actually get any good shots of the city (go figure). I was wearing white pants -- egads! Why aren’t they white in the photo, you ask? Because I colored them in on Photoshop! Take that, evil white pants from the great evil void known as “the eighties!”

Whew! Thank God I’m not wearing white pants in this one! And thank God I wore my sweater -- it was so cold out on the harbour! This is a sweater Joy sent me as a gift, by the way. Joy actually doesn’t remember being on the boat, because her family boats quite frequently and she always hates it. The gulls trailed behind the boat like a bridal gown, except, of course, that bridal gowns usually don’t squawk angrily and compete for tourist attention and bread crumbs and whatever food discards are being thrown to them. So I guess the gulls actually didn’t trail behind us so much like a bridal gown as like greedy seagulls. The boat ride took us past Alcatraz, although we didn’t actually get to tour the island; but I remember it well from a former life when I was Shirley MacLaine’s bitch (of course, back then she was a large Italian man known as Rocco Stonefence from Hoboken).

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