san francisco

jochen stremmel jstremmel at gmail.com
Tue Jul 23 11:16:54 CDT 2013


I'll give you another morsel from the same book, 20 pages later or so:

Shoftstall swung his long legs over the side of the bed and sat up,
stretching and yawning mightily. Our yearning nation's blue-eyed pride, I
remembered from somewhere. Cummings, I decided. Or cummings.


2013/7/22 jochen stremmel <jstremmel at gmail.com>

> Stumbling over a short passage in a polit thriller from more than 40 years
> ago, I remembered a short thread here about the gentrification of SF
> (mildly put as memories like to do). Here is the paragraph:
>
> I signed the bill, adding a 20 percent tip, which made the bellhop happy
> or at least less morose. After he left I mixed a drink and stood by the
> window gazing out over the city with its bridge in the background. It was
> one of those spectacularly fine days that San Francisco manages to come up
> with sometimes in early September: a few quiet clouds, an indulgent sun,
> and air so sparkling that you know somebody 's eventually going to bottle
> it. I stood there in my room on the seventeenth floor and sipped the scotch
> and stared out at what was once touted as America's favorite city. Maybe it
> still is.
>
>
>
>
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