last night, sarah and i walked through buena vista park and down to haight to the red vic where antonio gaudi (1985) was playing. there's very little dialogue, just director hiroshi teshigahara's camera gliding, roaming, floating - first through gaudi's buildings in barcelona, then through gaudi's park guell, and finally through gaudi's (still unfinished) la sagrada familia. an extraordinary film about an extraordinary body of work.
the walk back home was a weave - back and forth, left and right - since by nightfall haight street becomes filled with panhandlers, staggering drunks, and too-stoned people. i like some of what the street offers - the red vic, amoeba records, an occasional slab of pepperoni from fat slice - but in a city where genuine counterculture exists, haight ashbury, to me at least, feels like a big put on, a self-conscious attempt to be weird. plus, in a city filled with homeless people - and a sizable portion of homeless suffering from various elements of mental illness - the kid on haight with a homemade sign that reads, "i need money for drugs," isn't that funny.
after the film and before a nightcap of sushi and sapporos, we were walking back down haight and i turned to the left and said, "sarah, check it." she looked and snapped this picture. USF's st. ignatius church no doubt means many things to many people. to me, last night, as the evening turned to night and as summer began its creep into fall, it reminded me of everything i love about college campuses: learning, teaching, reflecting, experimenting, exploring, and growing.