What if 🥺 we kissed 😳 at the 🙅🏻♂️ giant fenced in 🧩 mystery field-of-mulch 🍂 in front of st lukes 🏥 at the muni bus stop that 🚍 buses only ever use to take🥱 breaks?
Figure 1. to the left: a giant field of mulch where a parking lot might normally be in front of a hospital that wieners kept clearing and covering over again and again and seemed to have given up at "mulch".Figure 2. to the right: more of a giant field of mulch where a parking lot might normally be in front of a hospital that wieners kept clearing and covering over again and again and seemed to have given up at "mulch".
Boris Vian - Wikipediaen.wikipedia.org (opens in a new tab)Figure 4. Link preview of https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boris_Vian, "Boris Vian - Wikipedia".Figure 5. wikipedia screenshot: DeathOn the morning of 23 June 1959, Vian was at the Cinéma Marbeuf for the screening of the film version of I will Spit on Your Graves. He had already fought with the producers over their interpretation of his work, and he publicly denounced the film, stating that he wished to have his name removed from the credits. A few minutes after the film began, he reportedly blurted out: "These guys are supposed to be American? My ass!" He then collapsed into his seat and died from sudden cardiac death on his way to the hospital.
In a world, where two movies come out around the same time, and every single person on earth seems to notice for some reason almost as if they were directly participating in a coordinated marketing campaign for one or the other or both movies, idk idk, ahem, ahem. every poster, must fight to survive
Exactly one block of this otherwise lovely ride was dumb enough for a car (perhaps London Breed herself!) to honk at me.
assuming tenth-of-a-mile blocks, punters have about a 0.00043% chance of guessing which one it was!
Figure 1. a strava screenshot of a bike route loop lined in red over San Francisco, from the Mission east to Oracle Arena, along the waterfront north and then west around to Ocean Beach and back through Golden Gate Park to the wiggle back to the mission.
Figure 1. A map of San Francisco, California. The path of a 23 mile (37 kilometer) ride is indicated. About 1089 feet (332 meters) elevation over two and three quarters hours, (two and a quarter hours moving).
My go to red sauce for two starts with the oil: a half cup, a quarter cup, and an eighth cup, to extract garlic, basil, and pepper, to fry the tomatoes, and to finish with butter and cheese, respectively
Figure 1. the half with a head of garlic, large pinches of red pepper flakes, and soon (missing), four full stalks of basil in a small sauce pan.Figure 2. the quarter, w/pepper flakes, for the tomatoes.Figure 3. the eighth to finish, missing: eight chiffonaded basil leaves, salt to taste.
Egan’s political and hard science (the bulk of this set) stories are my favorites while the atheist ones like the title story “Oceanic” are probably more interesting to previously religious people, which I never was. I’ve always found faith to be entirely inscrutable, so exploring losing it is kinda just more of that to me?
Figure 2. the current "Oceaninc" paperback cover, mostly black with sepia colored imagery of something abstract (maybe from a microscope of some kind) covered by the authors name in large white distressed italic capital sans partially filled with a yellow liquid (that could be photographed vegetable oil, idk).
