Tender is the Night

Berkeley, CA: I flew into Oakland about an hour ago. I’m now sitting at a coffee shop in downtown Berkeley; drinking some coffee and reading from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night. As it turns out, I will not set foot in San Francisco until tomorrow morning, but Berkeley is a fine place to be right about now. It’s around 60° here, about an hour before sunset. The air is crisp and refreshing; the best.

Walking through the airport in Chicago, there was a great deal of interest in McDonald’s. By the time we landed in Oakland, interest shifted to the death of Michael Jackson. I don’t understand people sometimes. None of that matters though. Nothing can beat this air right now.

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