Beginnings

Fridays... it was another great commute... don't get me wrong, I'd rather be traveling for other reasons then heading to work - but as commutes go, I must say, traveling in the bay area is very nice - especially going over the Golden Gate Bridge. I have a feeling that it will make its appearance many times in this blog.

To the left is the first off-ramp after comming through the toll plaza. I was really impressed with the fog and I think this picture captures it... better then any of the others I took. I also like the picture at the right. It is the view inside the bus. I like it because it doesn't seem like one of the Golden Gate Transit buses - it looks like one of the photos I've seen from tourists traveling in Europe on a train.

I am writting this as my two children are playing rough and bouncing around and I have come to the distinct opinion that it is very difficult to write when not alone... at least for me.

This guy was on the commute home... He suddenly started reading from a book of poetry out loud. He then began letting no one in particular know what he was reading, the book it was in, where one could possibly purchase it... generally a bit mad, really. But he reminded me a bit of a college professor and it got me to thinking about context. After all, his exact utterance in a different setting would have been quite acceptable - in fact, it could be a career. But because he chose the bus as his setting for poetic education, and his audience had not chosen to be so (his audience), he was percieved as a bit mad.

It was a short burst of lecture - about two minutes tops. But it was more then enough for the people around him to get a bit uncomfortable, or smile to themselves as one does when witnnesing the antics of a cute child. I just had another thought about the situation - had he a cell phone, none would have thought him mad.

To seal the deal, when we hit divisadero and lombard intersection, he started informing - again, to no one in particluar - about a gentleman who built his home on divisadero in the 1940s. I couldn't make out much about that lecture.

I felt a little sorry for the bookish gentlemen sitting across the row from him - you could tell he was homing in on them and that their skill set was not ready for the embarking conversation. Sure enough, as we hit the Manzinita Parking Lot, he unleashed on them with the crazy inquiry of, "Where's Mill Valley? Is it here or the next stop?"

One could only imagine what was in store for them the remainder of the ride...