Transverse versus parallel crossings

I have grown up in the Bay area. What I love about this place is that people who are important are hard-working, talented, open-minded, and kind. In most places, any subset of these traits is not enough. But here you need all four just to survive and thrive and to matter, to be somebody. Since everyone’s so driven, we’re like highway truckers. All our crossings are transverse, barren gone. In work or love. We cross in and out of each other’s lives, pretending we are not bound to one another, that our lives are our own. But all of us who come here have a ribbon around our hearts. Even if that ribbon will not let us own to it. I have seen so many come and go. At the smash game, at the fight, at the toral, the loving, the feast, the dinner, the orgie, the beach. The dissection, the eye poking, the cliff climb, the mud, the declamation, the excuses, the lies, the truths. The demands for noble shit, the bullshit. Pulling together where and when to make a now. I have come and gone. This…