Originally posted to ydnar.vox.com in December 2007.

Yesterday began as it ended, surrounded by a crowd of revelers, some familiar, most unfamiliar. Yesterday began again as a six AM growl, a wag and a whimper ringing me back into the frame of responsibilities. Yesterday began in earnest as a chorus of hangover empathy, short americanos and plum muffins and scraps of the New York Times. Yesterday began as latent fingering of Twitters mourning the butchering of Daft Punk by someone Danger Mouse too late and Spooky not enough. Yesterday began as plans for film screenings, rock shows, brunch and selling cars. Yesterday’s blueprints were carefully followed.

Yesterday forced hard decisions. Yesterday continued, cracking doors previously sealed, exploring means of converting liability into asset. Yesterday, options yelled louder than conceptual obstacles, simultaneously old, new, frightening and brave. Yesterday was warm enough to sit outside in front of Piccino. Yesterday was about three breakfasts. Yesterday was spent in unlikely company. Yesterday, everyone’s motives were obvious.

Yesterday revisited previous yesterdays. Glorious! New! Print! Yesterday afternoon was made for Blade Runner and motorcycle rides. Yesterday was an exercise in patience for the commerce lemmings infesting Union Square and its abortive crosswalk/intersection (plan). Yesterday afternoon was made for gallery visits and missed attempts to drink craft beer and noodles. Yesterday was for long conversations on social graphs, interfaces and hacking companies. Yesterday shifted from bright and clear to gray and distinct. Yesterday was out of phase, skipping every other planned destination. Yesterday was a must-visit to the last day showing eight thousand dollar Argentine nude sculptures. Yesterday was interrupted by another crude instrument of commerce, a necessary evil to reckon with. Yesterday was triage.

Yesterday I sold my car, seeded a new savings account and started earning miles on every purchase. Yesterday spake financial freedom and personal satisfaction. Highest quality! Superior craftsmanship! Yesterday had too many cigarettes. Yesterday meant spending two hours in transit fleeing the soul crushing flatness of Stevens Creek Boulevard. Yesterday held the first hour of reading a book, uninterrupted, in weeks. Yesterday Digitalism was on repeat. Yesterday I felt sorry for the people I’ve met who will never build something great. Yesterday they were the minority.

Yesterday evening emerged from Caltrain in situ, Potrero. Yesterday my building stood recently groomed and made respectable; the neuroses of my neighbors, their planters and their prejudices notwithstanding. Yesterday there were was live painting to attend, a rock show and two bad sweater parties. Yesterday skipped every other beat. Yesterday night coiled up and sprung in Eric’s Saab towards The Rickshaw Stop, and rang out in front of the stage with Elise dancing to The Morning Benders. Yesterday’s music was worth waiting for. Yesterday night was primed with Fernet and Stella. And Stella. And Stella. Yesterday was Ford and Derek, Robin and Random, Brian and Caylie, Eric and Elise, Lane and Layla, Beau, Jon and Charm, Leslie, Elliot and Ali, Willo, Lauren and Mark. Yesterday I learned and forgot your name.

Yesterday slipped away to the notes of the Heavenly States, and we ducked out into the night to invest the first minutes of Today in the company of bad sweaters, holiday tunes, the brilliant and the sexy, in Mission victorian kitchens and hallways. Yesterday was amongst true believers in organic tobacco. Yesterday, guile and SMS rescued an orphaned credit card. Yesterday ended under smoke and wine, closing the balance upset at the start; the bad taste of yesterday’s yesterday washed away with smiles and cheers, dancing and crushing, sincere embraces; no Daft Punk except in memory, stuck in my head until Yesterday became yesterday.