So my friends live in the area that is just like Tales of the City… little bungalows on the edge of Russian Hill with brick paths leading up and down to each little residence. Kind of like a spa retreat, with the entire cityscape at your feet. It’s really quiet up there, once in a while they say they can hear fire engines. I wondered, when I was leaving, how they moved their couch?

Walking down Mason Street there were hordes of people celebrating St. Patrick’s day, some guy trying to figure out how to contact this girl, “So if I call, I ask for, Tricia?” and then some joke about if she really did work with Larry David or not. Another girl crossing from the street where O’Reilley’s block party was held, her heels in her hand, barefoot crossing the cable car tracks. Three guys approached walking up Mason entirely too sober for 9pm on St. Paddy’s day.

This morning it was “spitting” rain, and I kept thinking of March, enters like a lion leaves like a lamb.