The Seabiscuit of San Francisco

Having hidden in the background for so long, at last he has finally made his opening to the forefront. That stud, that stallion pacing so softly but steadily, has raced his way to the head of the pack and is ahead by so far that it’s hard to imagine there could be an upset at this point. It should be an easy win, for the closest competitor is behind by a few leagues.

Seabiscuit has clinched the number one spot in the race. The score is 79, now 80, and Lord Byron, the most promising of the recent horses to join the race, is still at 12. However, Lord Byron did this morning send his completed manuscript of a novel that, while he had a literary agent, never found a publisher, so that ought to boost up his stats a few compared to the other leaders left on the scoreboard. I am looking forward to reading his work and laughed out loud once, just upon the first page. He sent it to me to keep me entertained while he is off to London for a week regarding a new publication of his (not the novel) and won’t be online.

I wrote a poem on the bus ride home today. I titled it, “San Francisco” and recorded it when I got home. I emailed the poem to both Seabiscuit and Lord Byron. I asked Seabiscuit if he would want me to send the recording over as well, as he did very much enjoy my voice before when reading his poem. He responded quite quickly; of course he did.

There is something wonderfully attractive and alluring to have someone enjoy my voice so much. He has been quite playful in his language back to me. I do believe we call this “flirting”. Still, I think both of us might be hesitant to go too far. We’ve had some lovely exchanges in the course of a month, and I’ve felt very comfortable talking to him more than to all the others. We’ve discussed a lot more variety of subjects than I have with others from Craigslist: race and racism, politeness in restaurants, others on Craigslist, and ourselves.

I was very touched by his thoughts on race and racism in his email to me this afternoon, responding to the thoughts on that topic I had written to him. It was a very thoughtful recognition of being a white male. (It could not have been any more different than Patrick’s email where his logic boiled down to “I have black and Asian friends and dated a Mexican girl once so can’t be racist.”) It was very understanding and acknowledging the issues that he is blind to by his own privilege as a white male. I appreciated the sincerity of it. I have found it is hard to talk to someone on the other side when it comes to race; hell, I even have moments where I raise an eyebrow to something my own mother says, realizing she has no idea what challenges her children face by only being half-white, and only one of us (not I!) passes for white.

Could this be going somewhere, besides circles in my head? I am very curious to hear his voice too. How attractive would it be? Would I find his voice as alluring as he finds mine, and hear that call of the Sirens in it? Would there be whispered words exchanged by phone?

I have been wondering and entertaining the thought for a while now of doing recordings and including them here, short podcasts of a kind, whether tales from Craigslist or reading my own poetry. But what is the proper length of a podcast? Can it be the mere introduction and reading of a poem? “San Francisco” is only about 30 seconds on its own. Would people listen to a podcast series that was only poems read aloud? Seabiscuit is all for it and says he would certainly listen to any podcast of Craigslist stories so that I can prove there are real women on Craigslist (ha!), and I’m sure he would as eagerly listen to only poetry too-whatever the Siren of San Francisco reads across the waves.

Gazing where the lilies blow

So things with Patrick didn’t work out. I realize now that it was a poor choice of words (and really, he ought to know better, considering how often he wrote to me how he could tell words were important to me.) His response to my email dug the hole deeper; it was a long defense about being a while male and how many activities he has been involved in to help minorities and the LGBTQ community. It was unclear to me if it was an attack on me as well in some way.

I realize we probably both misunderstood each other’s words  But I was still very disappointed that he failed to tell me how old the photo was, and in that sense, I felt deceived. Can you still be friends with that sort of deception? I emailed him some days later, openly asking that question.

I received no response.

So the march continues onwards. I hope to still make new friends out of the connections I am making. 

I hope to hear from Brian (age unknown–40s?). By far, he is the one who draws my curiosity the most. He emailed me the clues to a note he left for me somewhere in Berkeley. Thus began a series of scavenger hunts, both of us leaving notes and clues for one another. We crossed cemetaries, historical landmarks, and famous shops. We shared poetry. It culminated in his leaving a work address somewhere in SF. I checked Google Maps, and it is a studio building with a directory, and I am not sure which one he works at. I know he is a carpenter, but several carpentry businesses reside at that address. I sent him a week ago and left my work address in return. I have yet to hear from him, but I do hope to. In the very least I would like to meet this amazing person who single-handedly delivered the best response I ever got to my ad. Romantic potential? Unknown–but let us at least be friends! What a fucking cool dude!

Of the penpals from Craiglist still corresponding with me regularly, these are the most interesting ones:

1. Kevin (45), a full-blooded Irishman from Wales. Romantic potential? Maybe. I am fond of accents from the UK, but I have yet to hear his voice. There is a deep sadness in him. He has shared some stories about his loss and loves traveling by train as I do. He would love to return to the UK, and I do miss London.
2. Seabiscuit (55), who takes beautiful landscape photographs and shares them with me. Romantic potential? Unlikely as he is married but separated, but I think he would make an interesting friend. I enjoy emailing him. I laughed at his last proposal–to swap awkward family stories (me with my father, him with his daughters) and share perspectives from those opposite points of view.

3. Chris (29), a PhD student at Stanford. He is highly optimistic of things and the world (including grad school). I haven’t said it, but am certain his being a white male colors the optimism he still carries about being able to change things. Romantic potential: unclear. Friendship seems more likely.

4. Alex (35), who recently began writing me. He moved here from the Ukraine when he was about 10. I normally feel that my respondents can’t keep up with me, but with him I worry I am the one who can’t keep up. He writes a lot and of so many things; it feels like he’s moving at the speed of lightning while everyone else is the pace of raindrops. Romantic potential: Maybe.

So that’s where things are at for now. Who knows where any of this is going? On the bright side, no matter what happens, all this correspondence has been helping me feel motivated to get back to work on my novel again. And that is a good thing.