Bus Report #855
I walked to the bus in the dark, past several people walking their dogs, past the man who picks up all the trash for a few blocks of Clement when no one's looking, past sleepy delivery drivers loading pallets of supplies into unlocked, dark storefronts.
Waiting for the bus I put on some music I haven't listened to in a long while - Sarah Dougher's albums The Walls Ablaze, part of The Bluff, and a few songs off of her first record, Day One.
Her music always touches me, and hearing it again after so long transported me back to the early oughts, to shows at Cafe du Nord and Bottom of the Hill, standing over to the side by the wall while her band played on stage.
She has a song where she sings about "the selfishness of the artist" and it always reminds me of Neruda's "deber del poeta" (the poet's obligation) - and then I sit wherever I am (for example, on the 33 Stanyan on a cold and rainy morning, just as the sky is growing lighter) and think about my obligation as a writer, and my selfishness, and it makes me feel energized and despairing at the same time.
I step off the bus, into a light drizzle, just as Sarah Dougher's fantastic cover of Irma Thomas' "It's Raining" comes on.