in the wake of getting a new computer (finally!) I’ve come to realize this, that being cut off from the world wasn’t that bad. i actually embraced this Dickinson-esque way of life; being broke and having broken technology is your own personal and free retreat, away from all the things that worry and distract you (as a writer).
it’s good to go back to simple things and write from scratch– literally. if you’re lost with something, go and try just writing, writing anything, with paper and pen. i don’t know, i felt more constrained trying to accomplish a first draft of a piece when typing it up instantly on a computer. you’re not impressing anyone with writing in pen and paper, you’re apt to mess up and that’s fine, just scratch that mother out! it never fails, and you’ll always end up with something good.
it’s also a good way to improve handwriting over a period of time– which sadly will never happen for me. at least my hand is better than it was in seventh grade- high school. yes, i know because i found my old diaries, funny old things! but i don’t care to really discuss the contents of them without looking like Andy Samberg jizzing in his pants 😛 the one person to embarrass you without fail is your younger self.
There’s always some substantial meal under $5 everywhere. Seriously.
Buy scarves in Chinatown.
You’re never going to get a seat on a BART train to the East Bay unless you do the following: catch the next (always constant) train towards SFO and get off at Civic Center Station or 16th Street; wait for your train there. There’s your seat and time killer.
Avoid the embarrassment of needing a bathroom when you’re nowhere near a public place. Pop into fancy hotels like Hyatt or Hilton if within distance.
Greet the MUNI drivers.
The back door on Muni. And always step down.
Free WiFi down at the Embarcadero Ferry Building.
like the mountain that stands, it’s there in the crowd in a weekday rush. it is morning, an underground tunnel, and a clearing for the white, wiry rust that he leans against the waist. mud cakes the tires; rags wind around the handles. it’s not something to notice really— it can’t fold up for the convenience of others nor does it shine so brilliantly in a dark metallic-like black.
but i could get away on it.
let it take me somewhere like a mountain, a new grandeur unseen in my commonplace commute, route, and life. it is a soft pearl blankness, a canvas for color and charisma, because that’s what it was built for— it was built to last, and built to endure whatever stakes so high or low to be faced. i see it here in this now, in this well-worn age, simple and patient and blank. it is a morning commute. the trains are filled with the rush and excitement, of only the people they carry.
i see now that fastened to the bottom are new pedals, bright and neon green. a good omen here— for there is yet to be life, life all over again for the steel vagabond.
As told by James Joyce, in the most simplest and loveliest words to sum up the universal human story.
This was written on a sympathy card at work. It felt too broad to credit as just a quote. It deserves our attention; it certainly caught mine. It’s one of the most beautiful proses concerning death. And the lack of punctuation keeps this a flowing, current little piece that captures It in writing.
Just keeping this in mind. Always.
In these last few months I’ve emerged as one of the contributing writers to the new travel site Travel Sages. It’s the perfect wanderlust place for intimate, personal experiences of cities widely know. Of course, I’ve been giving my insight to city living in San Francisco, and I’d love to have you guys check it out! I’m not the only sage, but I’ve written 4 articles so far for the site.
Go ahead, read! Here they are:
Check out their other featured cities and stories as well, all amazing and wonderful content! We have only been live about two weeks, but so far so good– great feedback and following, especially since we’ve been reaching out on domains such as Yelp and TripAdvisor.
I also stumbled upon this little musing of a quote:
stop for just one second.
think about all the people you’ve secretly had a crush on. all the people you’ve found attractive, but never said anything to. every stranger you’ve temporarily fallen in love with on public transportation. all the people you’ve dreamt of and thought of in the early mornings.
and now take a moment to realize that you have been this person for so many people… and you have no idea.
— Tumblr user spookyphoque
Near-midnight intrigue of this though means one thing: Valentine’s Day is approaching at work, and I’m starting to feel the sentimental affects of it.
Aren’t strangers wonderful?
These people can go die. In all their being, waiting around with T’s of Oasis and Jarvis Cocker to the Strokes in order to signify this hierarchy of taste and experience in line—it all means nothing, not to me. They’ve all paid the same amount, drove the same distance (I’m pretty sure of it), and all have no exception to the head of the line—ahead of me.
I am a writer. Well in the works.
I work and live in the San Francisco Bay Area and am not shy to blogging. However, my original postings were not as successful as I hoped they would be. I’ve learned from my mistakes; and from this new year I plan to slowly move my old blog onto this new Dizzy Writer!
I graduated University of San Francisco, now in that fantastical stage en route to adulthood to find a job and a good space in time to write my mainly nonfiction and short stories. I started out as a novelist when I was a bad writer. Now I think I’m a decent writer, but that’ll be up to you as I continuously post some small works here.
As far as my writing platform, here’s this: I was an intern at McSweeney’s. interviewed the band The Airborne Toxic Event for an unpublished piece in The Believer, and read at various obscure word night readings around San Francisco. Currently I’ve taken my creativity into new realms, such as leading craft workshops for Paper Source in the City. I also contribute travel insights to my beloved home of San Francisco to travelsages.com.
As I freshly start anew here, I’m at a standstill. The world ahead in 2014 is continuous and unlived, and until we get there, this writer’s mind’s resting, until the life gets her dizzy once again.