With time on my hands, I ventured out into the city alone on a Sunday. I started-off at the the SFMOMA to view the new rooftop garden which I had seen numerous times in glossy computer- rendered form, but was unpleasantly surprised that the actual built-form wasn't as cool. Despite that, my trip to the museum wasn't entirely disappointing: The musuem always has a fresh round of installations, which I try to visit at least once every six months. This installation was particularly interesting:
Here is a description from the SFMOMA site in response to the artist's intention and meaning:
Fritsch's intention is to lodge an indelible visual image in the mind of the viewer, indissolubly fusing experience and memory. Although some viewers may find the poodles threatening, they also appear to be on alert watch, guarding over the child. And despite the ominous atmosphere, a strange undercurrent of humor is present in the quirky oddness of both the poodles and the baby.
After the museum, I ventured over to the Mission to see Francisco Fernandez from the Ferocious Few perform on stage. I was getting restless standing in a crowd of obnoxious "dirty hipster meets vegan hippie meets political activist" types! I think I sat there for an hour talking to no one waiting for the onstage performance before I decided to bail.
After the show I headed over to Amber, one of the last remaining smoking bars in the city. I sat there, expecting to have a quiet Sunday evening alone observing the other patrons. But for some reason or another, as the night wore on, everyone at the bar became so friendly with everyone else.
My first friendly encounter was with a beautiful African American gal studying acting in Denver. We psychoanalyzed her movie preferences before her boyfriend came to pick her up. Once that conversation ended, I started up another one with a writer. He and I had a great conversation about the anti-semitic author H.P. Lovecraft and his most reknowned book " the Call of Cathulhu". When the writer left his seat for the night, a sound engineer took-over and explained to me his occupation more thoroughly. Then, out of the blue, this lesbian British girl comes up to me and asks "Honey, how are you?"- with the expected accent of course.
Unfortunately, I don't remember any of their names, but the ability to sit down and be amongst the company of interesting strangers is god-sent. At intermitten times when a stranger had not come to keep me company, at least the good ol' rock n' roll music was there to listen to. Strangers are friends without mutual baggage. I left the bar so happy, and walked to BART feeling that I hadn't wasted that Sunday at all. To be amongst the company of strangers and to exchange all those ideas is so amazing to me. Equally as fun is roaming around the city alone, venturing out to familiar places with unexpected outcomes.
