Originally posted to ydnar.vox.com in April 2007.
7:45 PM, listening to Spoon. Last Thursday I’ll be living in SOMA. Pista walks over, wants to be scratched on her neck, licks my nose. The sounds of Essex street and the 1st street exit bubble through the open window. The sun has set over the skyscrapers out my window, and the city lights are coming on. The cranes have slowed for the night and the Cnet logo glows volcanic orange.
Every box is taped, every record crated. The turntables are put away, and the bicycles and books are not far behind. Last order from the SOMA Goat Hill Pizza. Tomorrow is the last 4 block commute to work. Saturday the lights will go dark in this concrete home and Spoon will be quiet here forever.