I used to play Spiderman on the PlayStation 2 when I was younger. I was addicted to it. Most of the time, I wouldn't even do any of the missions. I'd just enjoy the freedom of flying down broadway, between the concrete soldiers of New York City. I'd find a ledge high enough to be quiet, sit, and watch the sunset in 3x speed.
I was around 8 years old. I wasn't allowed to go out much, so the virtual freedom felt liberating. I'm 25 now and I still dream of New York in the same way.

I didn't tell you, but I've moved into an art deco apartment in the heart of the Tenderloin*. 1604 is the number of my unit. The Wong Kar Wai film brings a narcissistic glow to this place.

I see the kaleidoscope of red and blue dancing on my ceiling most nights. Like the spiderman, I watch the people walk by the road. Along it. On it. Heads, shoulders knees and toes - in that order, over and over again. I call it The Loins now. My new home.

I miss my mother. My father too. My sister called this morning, it went to voicemail as I was in the shower. I didn't call back.
I miss my closest friends. Thoughts of an old ex girlfriend would knock on the door occasionally - almost answering but my pride had guarded me, and thankfully so. Instead I danced with a stick of magnolian incense set alight.
I like the way the smoke pirouettes into its death to the air. Incense feels like a necessity in the loins.

I rent an electric scooter to commute to work. I look and feel silly, but secretly enjoy the rides. I dance on the board with music playing through my apple earphones. It's my aesthetic choice to go for the wired set. It just looks cooler. The bluetooth sets look like you take yourself too seriously and I often lose the case anyway. One fell down the toilet mid-flush and the other I dropped into the drain. So I've since committed to the ones you plug in. Artists wear those ones.

I'm looking for love of myself but I don't actually know what that looks like. So I write. And occasionally fill my lungs with the smoke of tobacco, twisted with magnolia. It's a new thing I've picked up but not really for any means. I don't even feel addicted. I can put them down without it crossing my mind for days, which I like the idea of - that control.

Past the reflection into my living room, the window frames the city crawling up the hills of San Francisco. The geography of this place makes it feel like the buildings themselves want to walk away to somewhere brighter also.