It's ridiculously gorgeous here today. Dolores is a crazy party today, tons of people, a DJ playing dance music, a big drum circle, people barbecuing. It's spring, but locals call it the "San Francisco summer" because this is the hottest and sunniest time of year. The hill above my house, around 20th and Sanchez, is covered with gardens and stairs, with loads of flowers in bloom and lots of fun little passages between the different levels of streets. It's one of the little-known gems of the city.
There are a million people out and about, so many gorgeous girls and people having fun and all hip and cool. It makes me completely miserable. Here you can't hide from the reality of how shitty your life is. In the suburbs, you can go to your job, get in your car, go home to your shitty wife or shitty friends and do nothing special and think your life is normal and fine. Here there are amazing people doing everything that I ever wanted in my life, and I'm not part of it, and I can't hide from that fact.
Sometimes walking down the street I feel like I'm somehow disconnected from this reality. To make a totally retarded pseudo-scientific analogy, I feel like I'm on a different Brane than everyone else, I'm offset by one centimeter in one of the higher dimensions, so I'm right there, right next to this reality, and yet cannot interact with it. Obviously that's not true it's just a depressive self-indulgence.