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the city; the 90s

I was 18, 19, 20, 21, and then 22.  When I remember San Francisco during the day, it was always sunny -- memories are often wrong like that.  When I remember San Francisco at night, it was always wet and smelled like piss -- because just as often, memories are right like that.

We were all so smart -- books in our back pockets, in our shoulder bags, heavy and ruining our posture on sunny afternoons spent meandering through garage sales in The Castro or ThriftTown and record stores in The Mission.  It was different than smart, though...really, it was wordy?  Wordy before the internet, which was a time so different it seems impossible to explain. (I remember the first email I ever sent, from SFSU's Volunteer Center to my then-almost-boyfriend 500 feet away in the dorms.  Addressed "dear you" signed "love, me" no capitals, e.e. cummings-style.)  No matter where we were - in cars, on the late-night 91 Owl bus, in our cinder block dorm rooms or industrial-carpeted d…

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