A year and six months later, pandemically speaking, and several years since the last Post about Swimming to Bolinas, I am back in training mode. My first social sojourn outside of collaborating with colleagues at the ‘Pataphysical Studios, was to drive to the San Francisco Art Institute to investigate if the property is open. It is not.
The San Francisco Art Institute was padlocked. Using gravity I walked down the hill on Chestnut to Columbus into North Beach and hopped on a 30 Stockton bus up to Union Street to meet P Segal at Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Store Bar. That is where the insurrection and consultation took place, sitting outside at a sidewalk table. Periodical research was un-clandestinely handed over to P Segal for research and ammunition for Proust Said That.
North Beach is P Segal’s turf. She was born here. She grew up here. Her father used to take her to the Italian Club around the corner where he smoked cigars. After the mission was accomplished by exchanging Proustian propaganda I departed to walk back to the San Francisco Art Institute via a circuitous route including Green and Grant Streets passing Caffe Sport and Golden Boy Pizza. A look into the window of Maccharini Art and Jewelry revealed he is still in business.
Then… onto the search for the elusive Harley K. to leave a Certificate of Creative License and two Casino Bux, worth a whole lot more than face value.
Training to Swim to Bolinas is fun… sometimes. It is good to be loose in North Beach again after all these years.