A Love Letter to San Francisco
I’ve always been drawn to the obscure, and have a soft spot in my heart for oddities and underdogs. San Francisco has continuously catered to my whimsical tastes for 24 years, and I am forever indebted to this city for awakening my unconventional creativity.
Strangers at bars have read my tarot cards in line for the bathroom. I’ve met dogs with more elaborate wardrobes than my own. Like many locals, I have essentially become blind to public nudity and eccentric costumes as everyday attire. I’ve experienced the paradox of living in a city with excessive legislation while also living in a city that imitates the Wild West. Churches hold “Beyonce Mass” and everything from laundry to weed to “professional cuddlers” can be delivered to your door in a matter of minutes via an app. There are hills so steep the sidewalks have stairs, roads so windy that even GPS can’t detect them, and buildings so contorted I feel like I’m looking at an illustration from a Dr. Seuss book.
San Francisco is a chaotic mirage of surrealism and idealism. Yet the people and pursuits of this metropolis are some of the most real I’ve come to know. The city by The Bay is built on good intentions and soulful imagination, which often proves to be a shaky foundation; but the heart of San Francisco is rock solid with resilience. And sometimes, that’s enough.