Doors, stairs, ramps, thoughts--let's go.

The invention of asphalt from the point of view of plants, from the plants' place of feeling.

The first time I noticed the Filipino-American celebration in San Francisco, I hadn't read about it in the paper.

I was walking down one side of Mission Street downtown, and on the other side, I saw a procession of people wearing complexly colored clothes, some of the carrying things like parasols with really long handles, that had streamers streaming down from them, also in beautiful colors. Like the dream of a city that's true sometimes, beauty that surprises.

Sometimes, I don't need to know what time it is in numbers. Sometime, I need to know time to move, time to rest.

There are fewer wolverines than there used to be. One thing to do about that is to be thankful for the wolverines there are.

Oh,darn, the newspaper tells me there's a good art exhibit about torture. And, oh, darn, it's at a gallery, simpler to to to than a museum. And, oh, darn, it's at a gallery I know the exact location of.

[The gallery name has two parts, first part "Paule" and it's really close to Market on Geary.]

Sometimes a person's got to rest. Sometimes resting has to happen. Sometimes a person can go out and meet resting instead of waiting to be tackled by it.

I knew that he worked at a law office, but I didn't know until I talked to him at the party that he loves the law--its grandeur, history, highest aims. Pretty cool. Some people who work at law offices are cynical about the law, so it's good to have people like him there to balance the vibe.

Sometimes there are steel doors flat with the sidewalk that open to something under the sidewalk but that are usually closed.

I was walking past doors like that and noticed they had on them graffiti that looked like two yin-yang symbols, but not exactly like--they had too many lines.

Then I noticed that I was proofreading graffiti and proofreading yin-yang symbols--two silly things to do.

Letting the moment be its own dear self.

Knowing you is learny.

I don't know, in general, but sometimes I know, but which times?

Don't see it. It's you duty to not see it. Right now, love is made of not knowing what's in front of you.

Maybe later you can know and love at the same time.

Are you animate? If not, why not? Walk.

If people say banal things on the bus in a language you don't understand, then you're relieved of hearing that particular set of banal things.

It is summer, and things are silvering up.

I wonder what anything is like, and I wonder how anything happens.

Snug with a hug and a mug.

The light of the sun is still the light of the sun when we can't see the disk all day. By the light of the silvery sun, we warm each other up.

Demonstration or carnival, it's worth something to have different things happen on our same streets.

June 14th is Flag Day. This June 14, a Sunday, I could go to the second day of the Filipino-American celebration of Philippines Indenpendence Day, in the Civic Center in San Francisco, and I could go to the second day of the North Beach Festival, and the only day of the Haight-Ashbury Street Fair, which to me are all stitches in the flag, and the fact that they are on the same day in the same city is another stitch I'm fond of.

The straight lines that we make we make inside circling that's been going on for millions of years.

I can't do that.

I don't know how to do that yet.

I'm learning.

I tuned in mid-song, so I heard the longing and beauty before I heard that that was a pennywhistle, played by Julie Fowlis.

She said she often carries fourteen or fifteen whistles with her. She said, "For a small person, I make a lot of noise."

Julie Fowlis also sings with her voice.

Some music sounds like it's breaking walls.

Some music sounds like it's seeping into the ground.

Both make new ways to walk around one's insides.

One of Julie Fowlis' albums is called "As My Heart Is."

--I heard Julie Fowlis on "Folk Music and Beyond," hosted by JoAnn Mar on KALW-FM, 91.7, kalw.org, Satudays 3 to 5 Pacific, recurrent beauty.

Letting it seep in, without yelling at it or about it.

It sounds like leaves on a tree in a slight breeze thinking about being leaves on a tree in a slight breeze.

Early in the morning, the street musician is tuning his guitar. This tuning carries further than his tune will carry later when there are more cars and people.

Happenings are happening. Afootness is afoot.