14 Dec Dolores, My Mistress

Should my blog find keen readers, whom find themselves famished for my prose betwixt my installments, you may know be aware I had the good grace of snagging a ripper abode not a hop, skip and a jump from the magicLand of Dolores Park. My love affair with this patch o’ green began in the Fall and continues, albeit impinged oft by a gale, to this day. SF is a city with innumerable activities to get around, a veritable torrent of fun, but every now and then I relish the soft touch of my new definition of simplicity: cross legged with a tallboy on her soft floor, people watching out da ying yang as the dulcet rendition of a Bob Sinclair house track bellow from the throat of a deceptively dextrous keyboardist across the way.  She is my alpha, my omega, my morning sun, my waxing night. Love Dolores.