mission.1
creature of habit, romantic of the sentimental type, of the favouritist places in the world, the Mission District in San Francisco is a place I always like to go and hang out in. It's a place streaked w. wonder. Very urban - buildings 3-4-5 stories nicely stacked on the streets, crowded always, Latino, Asian, gay, and massed w. total freaks of all types (outside of Amsterdam, this population is the freakest city of any I've visited - no other is close), all these book stores, LP stores, kool bars and clip eateries: it's the totaly joy to experience. Think of a more expansive Wicker Park w. less white people and more freaks. Even BART even runs under it - by far it's the most compelling urban area in the city. No where close.
And there is something more - the personal history for me. When I started to visit Vito and Rocky in SF, this was the neighourhood they lived in - and us being young men, we really worked the neighbourhood. So many places to go or do - hell, even going somewhere else entailed , y know, walking thru the area. And walking - it's one of the flat areas of the city w. rite angel streets, making navigating easier that the hills on passes and windy streets that can confuse in other neighbourhoods. But all those long visits of earlier years - this must be the 15x i'm in this city in - really imprinted my ind here. Although I have never lived her, i'd spend 2wks in summer, two weeks @ xmas or a week on Spring Break and just lounge w. the boys. And it's be like the neighbourhood I lived in - peek out to see the weather, runout to the store for a Coke, grab aquick bite, etc... And the people who lived in the area - soon enough, others who I knew were in the neighbourhood. Bonniax Young was I- as were my frenz. So, as in Chicago, I have my places here where I once walked/swam/hunted.
Boogaloos
And one of my mostus hnting grounds of all time is a diner for hiposters called Boogaloos. Corner of 22d and Valencia. Been around all that time, and still the bumper crowds. Back in ther first days for me, April 1996, we'd go there for a late breakfast from time to time. Neighbourhood place. BAck then it was supposed to have a lesbian twist to it, but not really - mita started out like that, but by my time there it was just strewn w. freaks. How could y not like it? Fully know that other places in SF are also freakstrewn, but this was the place near the crib in the neighbourhood - perfect. Each time I went to California, I'd go back to sup., twice if I could.
Eventually, people strted to move out of the neighbourhood. The Folsom place went condo, and the original dudes - (Vito, Rocky, JLaw, and Cliffhouse) went their seperate ways - like an April '69 of the Beatles. To Oakland, to the Haight, to Alamedia, To Santa Cruz: to all parts around the area. The Mission became not the place to wake up in the morning and walk to Phils for a soda - The Mission now became a place to ..... visit. Indeed, tho' never lived there, it feels like one of the old neighbourhoods I used to live in. Swam/hunted/walked.
But still there is Boogaloos. Knew I'd end up here @ least once - and Tuesday of my latest visit was to eat there and walk the Mission. Vito and I drove in - executive decision not to BART because of the variety of places we were going ot visit. Vito was going to visit a frend who still lved in the Mission and since I wanted to burn @ Boogaloos, it was decided to co-oincide occurances and have a luncheonette for trois.
Lovely girl, of course. Beyond lovely. Slender young white girl, you know the type.Had met her before briefly - enjoyable to sittdwn and sup for a longer time and experience. She'd live din Chicago previously and presently worked as a nanny - I reasked Vito her university when I heard the job, forgetting that Vito had already told me that she's a Depaul grad. Hmm.
Cafe. Waitresses nothing spectacular. S'alright. Eggs. Able to steal the New York Times Science Times section - Section 1 nowhere to cull. Sausages. More cafe. Girls to watch in and out. Brilliant.
Delightful conversation. Talk of Jacob - I really had nothing much else. Frans situation and deals. Her relationship w. her rightous dude - 'finally, @ long last ...' And funnily, the conversation slanted after a bit - who wants to talk to me when Vito is there? She had things to say, and when the time ran near, they had to come out. This is not complaint, just amusing to see her air what she needed in the time remaining. Wait - Vito has the air of a priest about him as well? I learn new all the time.
Mission.2
Out (Cue "Can't buy me Love"). She left and the two boys were left to their original devices - walking the Miission. Now, there wer two factors @ play
- we didnt have all day, because Vito was to shop w. Darwina later.
-the last time an expansive Yellow Pages and Internet search of every bookstore/LP store/thrift shop in the Mission was back in the 1990's
:
So! No way this was gonna be a 'blasting our way into the senctor of Stalingrad'* type Mission mission where we'd spend so much time walking and shopping that evening rations would also be had on the Battlefield of the Mission - we were here for but a bit time, to hit reasonable targets in a reasonable amount of time, and then go. So, very appearantly, two bookstores near 21st and 20th and Valencia i think, were hit.** Again, the amount of times these shops have been firebombed over the last 13-14 years was staggering - and, in chomping up new books for me, en eye to yesterday's 13-14 years) happenings always close @ hand. In one store I got two postcards - I felt I should support the indy bookstores, and no book did I want @ the prices they were offering. In the other I didnt get anything. Walked to Market Street and stopped into a deeply kool thrift stor. Straight to book section - Vito had to race and rescue la voiture from possible parking problems - and I gobbled yp cheap volumes : 2 Hornby works (still no on Fever Pitch, alrady read but a need to own cheaply), The Chomsky Reader - yes, 1987 copyrite date but $2), an an economic history of Medievil England (what year is this in my life, 1989??) and a 'how to' book on Bolo Russel Terriers - the more I know of the type maybe the more I can help him. And, the women, out of this world SEXY, shopping for this or that nicknack knocked this boy out. Y know: "Girl Crazy, c'est Moi". Sexy girl? Gets better. The next stop was a tiny thrift store on Market. I'd wanted bad to return to a massive bin of a thrift store where I'd gotten a wondeful leather 'briefcase w. shoulder srap' a plusdecade ago : I wasnt to get what I wanted. But, w. time runinng, Vito and I again split up - he wanted to get secret stuff for the wife and her stopped @ this botique and that while I went to the tiny shop. It was a 'vintage' type thrift place - no books, but the delightful brunette w. the belly baring vintage top to chheck my parcel w., the slender young white girl coming out of the dressing room w. the belly bearing tite tshirt asking her frenz how it looked (How did it look? How did it look? ASK ME: I WILL TELL Y HOW LOVELY YOU LOOK @ THIS MOMENT I TIME!!).
Absent Rocky
Vito on the field fone, contactin goanother of the Folsom Four. JLaw - who has lived in four residences in a three block radius in the Mission over aperiod of maybe 16 years - was also walking the district. Arrangenments were made to meet up and walking patterens were set to collide. JLaw, deeply laid back dude, a teacher for years, and a Folsom Four - wonderful to hook w. again. Our msiion was to vacate the Mission and go to Ameoba's in the Haight - for yet another of the FF were there: Cliffhouse***.
But first, quickduck of a doorway or two, a sitting and chatting outside of the car, gossips exchanged, jenky exploited and swamped, memories laughted w., good feelings for me to be in the three man team about to be expaned by another, and off into the sprawlling yards of this massive record store**. Huge. No way to get to CHouse w/out help. But first some CD shopping. Basically the shop is so large that every LP ever minted probably was buyable close @ hand. Staggered by the volume and w/ no real plan. So, I wandered a bit dazed, and bits of "oh yeah, that group maybe" flicked across the synapses from tie to time. Coulda used Johnny Gunners for a time like this. But did buy: finally Os Mutantes in my hands, the 2007 Liars LP, and something old - Luna's "Bewtiched", stolen from me -8-9years ago. C.house came out and chatted a bit - but being @ work, concversation was perfunctionary and quick and plans were made for a 4.15drink (clockout time) @ Kezars, a nearby pub. We hung, a round became another when Chouse joined up, and then the dissolving plans w. an eye for the nite.
Folsum no Longer for these Two
These men do not live on Folsum anylonger - so, after the drinx, we went to drop off JLaw and carry onto to Cliffhouse for an Aunt I'd Like to hello. First, an hour chilling in the Mission/owned not rented crib of JLaw and Wife. and two little ones. House rife w. the evidense of children. Running, rambling, toys astrew. Again the thought popped into me head "How the hell do parents do it? what Invisible Sun gets them the energy?" We chilled @ the kitchen table, talked, saw the yard - (A yard! In S.F.! Grass! No vegtables, but that's only yet.). One kid ate her eggs, the other did not. Shy to me, not to uncle Vito. Shamelss Vito, playing the "Santa" trick w. his phone (Get the phone to ring, up pops "Sabnta's" face and name. Watch the kids face turn to wonder. ). Quick popoutpopback's to the laundry room. Th wife, whose pedigree streaches back to Folsum Street, has always been a relaxed wonderperson, easy to chill w.. Our visit ended too soon- but off to CliffAunts.
They had lived lasttimes I was here way down oceanside of S.F. and south! but still City. Now it was off 19th and middle of S.F. Vito and I found it nice, and while he left because of commitments - I stayed. We hung, we talked of planes, and we practiced what planes do in war. No, not firebombing, but something of a different order - precision bombing w. fighter bombers. It was nice. Here, finally, was the first time in, say, six weeks, when I could finally partake in a full scale raid - and so i did. Ate a bit and chilled.
Soon Cliff and I broke out to see the neighbourhood. San Fran has its level places - and also its mountainous parts. Ciffhouse and Aunt do not exactly live in a cliffhouse - but a walk this way and thru there and Cliffy and I were doing our best Malloy up stairs numbering a hundred+ and then another numbering 60+ and then , finally, w. lites out (he'd brought a torch for just this purpose) on the side of the mountain : we crested the mountain. Below us was a magnificant view of western San francisco - lit up grandly was Richmond and Sunset, bisected by Golden Gate Park - and a magnificant view to our right. Very impressive. There are pix - but later. Went back, refilled the ammo, and soon I had to go. Vito called and reminded me that there was but an hour to escape San francisco via BART or be stuck there. So, trammed it to downtown SF and down into the BART station.
The Long Leg home
I get myself in trouble many times. Incidents near the 95th Street El station - too many times. That time on the El where I had to 'put up my dukes' to scare off an attacker when I was headed to a job interview. The worst - Market Garden I. And now: the Long Leg home. I got off the BART @ 12th Street in Oakland, and w.out looking @ my map, I took off. Downtown Oakland in brilliant during the day masses of peoples and activity- but here I was lost and circling and obviously struggling in the deeply deserted and darkened downtown. There were patches of activity and lites ablaze - but there were also chicagolong blocks w. no obvious escape points and to wander in seemed dangerously foolhardy. Topping it off was my fogheadedness - i was befuddled beyond. Toppermost, I was too scared to whip out the map, and when I did - my eyes were not good enough to see the fine point on it in the failed lite.
And then came the shady types. Across the street. Where's the escape point? There- short run will deliver me to that lit area. WHat's thta guy doing? Drug dealer? Nah, gotta be a prostitute, rite? Safe on that one. Ok, this guy - across the street - lets rev and cut ahead of him. Ok, here it goes - three guys, and here they come. Catch each in the eyes as the near, show'm i'm aware.
Eventually, in front of a small vietnemese or Korean food shop open late, light and safe enough to consult the map allowed me to figger out the coordinates back to Lake Merrit. So groceried, I started to walk in what I felt was the correct direction. And yes, I believe it was the way - and it was. After 2-3 streets passed I came upon finally an unambigiously correct cross street totally pointed out on the map. A few blocks later - an open Macdonald, lites, and a final look @ the map - Clear way home.
Now all I had to do was circle the lake grandly and find the small street up. But first. By now i knew the way back - but. still feelig unsure, I walked quick and w. purpose and w. a rolled up newspaper in my rite hand (read it's a means to warn off attacker - funny how just naturally it appears in my hand before thinking 'oh I should do that'). So, I circled the lake, enjoying nearing the end of my oddessy and watching the twee birdies sleeping floating- and there was another pause. two women, cycling, on a patch of the lake where there wasn't a person w.in me in 3/4 of a mile - just had - JUST HAD - to encounter trouble w. their bikes RITE NEXT TO ME. No, not a mile that way upshore or a mile this way upshore or anywhere in between on the TOTALLY DESERTED lake- they had to encounter trouble RITE NEXT TO ME. No way was I biting - I knew the bike was fine and all was done just to get me to interact -so on I sailed.
Took awhile but I had to sweat finding the approach street - and then one last final worry. It was a local resident facing the other way having a ciggerette up the hill on a narrow side street- but I didn't know. And after the heavy gauntlet of worry I'd run - I just wanted to get in a relax. As I approached i caughed out a warning to him that i approached - and when he turned, it was a recognizably an old dude. Cross street finally crossed, a quick look to the left - and there were Vito and darwinas Xmas lights.
Done.
............................................................
*=the idiom being infantry combat, c. 1942
**=the idiom being WW2 airbombing raids, the P.O.V. being form thr bombers.
***=yes yes yes, lame. Got a better one, Rocky??
creature of habit, romantic of the sentimental type, of the favouritist places in the world, the Mission District in San Francisco is a place I always like to go and hang out in. It's a place streaked w. wonder. Very urban - buildings 3-4-5 stories nicely stacked on the streets, crowded always, Latino, Asian, gay, and massed w. total freaks of all types (outside of Amsterdam, this population is the freakest city of any I've visited - no other is close), all these book stores, LP stores, kool bars and clip eateries: it's the totaly joy to experience. Think of a more expansive Wicker Park w. less white people and more freaks. Even BART even runs under it - by far it's the most compelling urban area in the city. No where close.
And there is something more - the personal history for me. When I started to visit Vito and Rocky in SF, this was the neighourhood they lived in - and us being young men, we really worked the neighbourhood. So many places to go or do - hell, even going somewhere else entailed , y know, walking thru the area. And walking - it's one of the flat areas of the city w. rite angel streets, making navigating easier that the hills on passes and windy streets that can confuse in other neighbourhoods. But all those long visits of earlier years - this must be the 15x i'm in this city in - really imprinted my ind here. Although I have never lived her, i'd spend 2wks in summer, two weeks @ xmas or a week on Spring Break and just lounge w. the boys. And it's be like the neighbourhood I lived in - peek out to see the weather, runout to the store for a Coke, grab aquick bite, etc... And the people who lived in the area - soon enough, others who I knew were in the neighbourhood. Bonniax Young was I- as were my frenz. So, as in Chicago, I have my places here where I once walked/swam/hunted.
Boogaloos
And one of my mostus hnting grounds of all time is a diner for hiposters called Boogaloos. Corner of 22d and Valencia. Been around all that time, and still the bumper crowds. Back in ther first days for me, April 1996, we'd go there for a late breakfast from time to time. Neighbourhood place. BAck then it was supposed to have a lesbian twist to it, but not really - mita started out like that, but by my time there it was just strewn w. freaks. How could y not like it? Fully know that other places in SF are also freakstrewn, but this was the place near the crib in the neighbourhood - perfect. Each time I went to California, I'd go back to sup., twice if I could.
Eventually, people strted to move out of the neighbourhood. The Folsom place went condo, and the original dudes - (Vito, Rocky, JLaw, and Cliffhouse) went their seperate ways - like an April '69 of the Beatles. To Oakland, to the Haight, to Alamedia, To Santa Cruz: to all parts around the area. The Mission became not the place to wake up in the morning and walk to Phils for a soda - The Mission now became a place to ..... visit. Indeed, tho' never lived there, it feels like one of the old neighbourhoods I used to live in. Swam/hunted/walked.
But still there is Boogaloos. Knew I'd end up here @ least once - and Tuesday of my latest visit was to eat there and walk the Mission. Vito and I drove in - executive decision not to BART because of the variety of places we were going ot visit. Vito was going to visit a frend who still lved in the Mission and since I wanted to burn @ Boogaloos, it was decided to co-oincide occurances and have a luncheonette for trois.
Lovely girl, of course. Beyond lovely. Slender young white girl, you know the type.Had met her before briefly - enjoyable to sittdwn and sup for a longer time and experience. She'd live din Chicago previously and presently worked as a nanny - I reasked Vito her university when I heard the job, forgetting that Vito had already told me that she's a Depaul grad. Hmm.
Cafe. Waitresses nothing spectacular. S'alright. Eggs. Able to steal the New York Times Science Times section - Section 1 nowhere to cull. Sausages. More cafe. Girls to watch in and out. Brilliant.
Delightful conversation. Talk of Jacob - I really had nothing much else. Frans situation and deals. Her relationship w. her rightous dude - 'finally, @ long last ...' And funnily, the conversation slanted after a bit - who wants to talk to me when Vito is there? She had things to say, and when the time ran near, they had to come out. This is not complaint, just amusing to see her air what she needed in the time remaining. Wait - Vito has the air of a priest about him as well? I learn new all the time.
Mission.2
Out (Cue "Can't buy me Love"). She left and the two boys were left to their original devices - walking the Miission. Now, there wer two factors @ play
- we didnt have all day, because Vito was to shop w. Darwina later.
-the last time an expansive Yellow Pages and Internet search of every bookstore/LP store/thrift shop in the Mission was back in the 1990's
:
So! No way this was gonna be a 'blasting our way into the senctor of Stalingrad'* type Mission mission where we'd spend so much time walking and shopping that evening rations would also be had on the Battlefield of the Mission - we were here for but a bit time, to hit reasonable targets in a reasonable amount of time, and then go. So, very appearantly, two bookstores near 21st and 20th and Valencia i think, were hit.** Again, the amount of times these shops have been firebombed over the last 13-14 years was staggering - and, in chomping up new books for me, en eye to yesterday's 13-14 years) happenings always close @ hand. In one store I got two postcards - I felt I should support the indy bookstores, and no book did I want @ the prices they were offering. In the other I didnt get anything. Walked to Market Street and stopped into a deeply kool thrift stor. Straight to book section - Vito had to race and rescue la voiture from possible parking problems - and I gobbled yp cheap volumes : 2 Hornby works (still no on Fever Pitch, alrady read but a need to own cheaply), The Chomsky Reader - yes, 1987 copyrite date but $2), an an economic history of Medievil England (what year is this in my life, 1989??) and a 'how to' book on Bolo Russel Terriers - the more I know of the type maybe the more I can help him. And, the women, out of this world SEXY, shopping for this or that nicknack knocked this boy out. Y know: "Girl Crazy, c'est Moi". Sexy girl? Gets better. The next stop was a tiny thrift store on Market. I'd wanted bad to return to a massive bin of a thrift store where I'd gotten a wondeful leather 'briefcase w. shoulder srap' a plusdecade ago : I wasnt to get what I wanted. But, w. time runinng, Vito and I again split up - he wanted to get secret stuff for the wife and her stopped @ this botique and that while I went to the tiny shop. It was a 'vintage' type thrift place - no books, but the delightful brunette w. the belly baring vintage top to chheck my parcel w., the slender young white girl coming out of the dressing room w. the belly bearing tite tshirt asking her frenz how it looked (How did it look? How did it look? ASK ME: I WILL TELL Y HOW LOVELY YOU LOOK @ THIS MOMENT I TIME!!).
Absent Rocky
Vito on the field fone, contactin goanother of the Folsom Four. JLaw - who has lived in four residences in a three block radius in the Mission over aperiod of maybe 16 years - was also walking the district. Arrangenments were made to meet up and walking patterens were set to collide. JLaw, deeply laid back dude, a teacher for years, and a Folsom Four - wonderful to hook w. again. Our msiion was to vacate the Mission and go to Ameoba's in the Haight - for yet another of the FF were there: Cliffhouse***.
But first, quickduck of a doorway or two, a sitting and chatting outside of the car, gossips exchanged, jenky exploited and swamped, memories laughted w., good feelings for me to be in the three man team about to be expaned by another, and off into the sprawlling yards of this massive record store**. Huge. No way to get to CHouse w/out help. But first some CD shopping. Basically the shop is so large that every LP ever minted probably was buyable close @ hand. Staggered by the volume and w/ no real plan. So, I wandered a bit dazed, and bits of "oh yeah, that group maybe" flicked across the synapses from tie to time. Coulda used Johnny Gunners for a time like this. But did buy: finally Os Mutantes in my hands, the 2007 Liars LP, and something old - Luna's "Bewtiched", stolen from me -8-9years ago. C.house came out and chatted a bit - but being @ work, concversation was perfunctionary and quick and plans were made for a 4.15drink (clockout time) @ Kezars, a nearby pub. We hung, a round became another when Chouse joined up, and then the dissolving plans w. an eye for the nite.
Folsum no Longer for these Two
These men do not live on Folsum anylonger - so, after the drinx, we went to drop off JLaw and carry onto to Cliffhouse for an Aunt I'd Like to hello. First, an hour chilling in the Mission/owned not rented crib of JLaw and Wife. and two little ones. House rife w. the evidense of children. Running, rambling, toys astrew. Again the thought popped into me head "How the hell do parents do it? what Invisible Sun gets them the energy?" We chilled @ the kitchen table, talked, saw the yard - (A yard! In S.F.! Grass! No vegtables, but that's only yet.). One kid ate her eggs, the other did not. Shy to me, not to uncle Vito. Shamelss Vito, playing the "Santa" trick w. his phone (Get the phone to ring, up pops "Sabnta's" face and name. Watch the kids face turn to wonder. ). Quick popoutpopback's to the laundry room. Th wife, whose pedigree streaches back to Folsum Street, has always been a relaxed wonderperson, easy to chill w.. Our visit ended too soon- but off to CliffAunts.
They had lived lasttimes I was here way down oceanside of S.F. and south! but still City. Now it was off 19th and middle of S.F. Vito and I found it nice, and while he left because of commitments - I stayed. We hung, we talked of planes, and we practiced what planes do in war. No, not firebombing, but something of a different order - precision bombing w. fighter bombers. It was nice. Here, finally, was the first time in, say, six weeks, when I could finally partake in a full scale raid - and so i did. Ate a bit and chilled.
Soon Cliff and I broke out to see the neighbourhood. San Fran has its level places - and also its mountainous parts. Ciffhouse and Aunt do not exactly live in a cliffhouse - but a walk this way and thru there and Cliffy and I were doing our best Malloy up stairs numbering a hundred+ and then another numbering 60+ and then , finally, w. lites out (he'd brought a torch for just this purpose) on the side of the mountain : we crested the mountain. Below us was a magnificant view of western San francisco - lit up grandly was Richmond and Sunset, bisected by Golden Gate Park - and a magnificant view to our right. Very impressive. There are pix - but later. Went back, refilled the ammo, and soon I had to go. Vito called and reminded me that there was but an hour to escape San francisco via BART or be stuck there. So, trammed it to downtown SF and down into the BART station.
The Long Leg home
I get myself in trouble many times. Incidents near the 95th Street El station - too many times. That time on the El where I had to 'put up my dukes' to scare off an attacker when I was headed to a job interview. The worst - Market Garden I. And now: the Long Leg home. I got off the BART @ 12th Street in Oakland, and w.out looking @ my map, I took off. Downtown Oakland in brilliant during the day masses of peoples and activity- but here I was lost and circling and obviously struggling in the deeply deserted and darkened downtown. There were patches of activity and lites ablaze - but there were also chicagolong blocks w. no obvious escape points and to wander in seemed dangerously foolhardy. Topping it off was my fogheadedness - i was befuddled beyond. Toppermost, I was too scared to whip out the map, and when I did - my eyes were not good enough to see the fine point on it in the failed lite.
And then came the shady types. Across the street. Where's the escape point? There- short run will deliver me to that lit area. WHat's thta guy doing? Drug dealer? Nah, gotta be a prostitute, rite? Safe on that one. Ok, this guy - across the street - lets rev and cut ahead of him. Ok, here it goes - three guys, and here they come. Catch each in the eyes as the near, show'm i'm aware.
Eventually, in front of a small vietnemese or Korean food shop open late, light and safe enough to consult the map allowed me to figger out the coordinates back to Lake Merrit. So groceried, I started to walk in what I felt was the correct direction. And yes, I believe it was the way - and it was. After 2-3 streets passed I came upon finally an unambigiously correct cross street totally pointed out on the map. A few blocks later - an open Macdonald, lites, and a final look @ the map - Clear way home.
Now all I had to do was circle the lake grandly and find the small street up. But first. By now i knew the way back - but. still feelig unsure, I walked quick and w. purpose and w. a rolled up newspaper in my rite hand (read it's a means to warn off attacker - funny how just naturally it appears in my hand before thinking 'oh I should do that'). So, I circled the lake, enjoying nearing the end of my oddessy and watching the twee birdies sleeping floating- and there was another pause. two women, cycling, on a patch of the lake where there wasn't a person w.in me in 3/4 of a mile - just had - JUST HAD - to encounter trouble w. their bikes RITE NEXT TO ME. No, not a mile that way upshore or a mile this way upshore or anywhere in between on the TOTALLY DESERTED lake- they had to encounter trouble RITE NEXT TO ME. No way was I biting - I knew the bike was fine and all was done just to get me to interact -so on I sailed.
Took awhile but I had to sweat finding the approach street - and then one last final worry. It was a local resident facing the other way having a ciggerette up the hill on a narrow side street- but I didn't know. And after the heavy gauntlet of worry I'd run - I just wanted to get in a relax. As I approached i caughed out a warning to him that i approached - and when he turned, it was a recognizably an old dude. Cross street finally crossed, a quick look to the left - and there were Vito and darwinas Xmas lights.
Done.
............................................................
*=the idiom being infantry combat, c. 1942
**=the idiom being WW2 airbombing raids, the P.O.V. being form thr bombers.
***=yes yes yes, lame. Got a better one, Rocky??
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