Waiter This Tureen Is Full of Flies First time I went to SF on my own 16 years old,me and a friend,two actually,got off the greyhound at 7th(old station location)walked a half block up to Market and turned right there was this movie marquee and you know the upsloping tile all round the chrometrimmed ticket boxoffice and the lightbulbs hanging like little glass bats an inverse field of einstein ideas and cigarette butts literally everywhere and there was a bank of payphones old style you know practically made entirely out of wood and what was that stuff? uh...sellulite? no..,no it was.... Bakelite! that's it Bakelite with those little troughs for the coin return and there was this woman I thought she was really really old then like 70 or more tho she now seems easily to have only been a few hard yrs older than me now which is 52 and she was walking down the bank of phones wacking the coin returns wack! step step.. ..wack! step step...there was literally like 7-8 of em and then she made some kind of vocable of disgust at the emptiness the lack of prior anonymous forgetfulness and stepped right on around the corner of the glassed-in poster cases and disappeared but all the implications and metaphors and realities flooded down thru the day the afternoon fog the spring of '65 and ideals peeled away from me like remonstrations from respectless authority words of warning that held no key to the highway there before me and I was struck dumb confronting the insane refusal to give up feeling the ratlike grip of the living thing we all are,holding on,holding on.