Dolores Park -- home of the gays, the hipsters, the stoners, the homeless, and everyone in between.
This past Saturday, my roommate was Stage Managing an all-female production of “Taming of the Shrew” at 20th and Dolores on the Southeast corner of the park.
With caution tape signaling a line that you should not cross, she was none to pleased when the occasional homeless individual decided to step over. Luckily for her, they would usually forward the river, fall down, pass out — just like all of the other park goers.
After the play, I decided to take off my shirt, fall asleep, and do my best to soak up the sun. When I turned over, there was a man who appeared out of nowhere. He was only in his mangy underwear and most likely around 45. He looked at me, pulled out his burgundy bowl, and asked if I wanted a hit.
“It’s Mother Nature.”
I responded with an “I’m good. No, thanks.”
If you’ve ever been to Dolores, you know that this man’s offering is not terribly surprising. However, his selling point felt a little different. Perhaps it’s because I was by myself in the big, scary world. More likely than not, it’s just because he referred to his stash as “Mother Nature”… He didn’t really make the world seem big and scary.
It quickly hit me without a hit: The way he phrased his potential puff-puff-pass-pass scenario was outlandishly based in stoner stereotype. It made my underemployed existence feel like a real-life version of Robert Crumb’s Fritz the Cat.
Eureka!
Fritz was a feline prone to various adventures — largely focusing on sex and drugs. Sadly, my life isn’t really as exhilarating as Fritz’s, but in tone at that particular moment, it was at a perfect pitch. Not only did Fritz have wild adventures, he created a world where everything — and I mean everything — was easily defined. To give you an example, police officers are drawn as pigs.
True fact: Fritz the Cat was also the inspiration for my cat’s name at home, Fritz the Cat.
My Fritz the Cat is a Persian without a face.
San Francisco and life in general felt wonderfully predictable at that moment. Dolores Park was perfectly cut up — The Manshelf, Hipster Hill, and so much more were all in their respective places. There was no blending. People suddenly felt easy to peg everywhere.
This feeling would probably bother me quite a bit under employed circumstances. However, in the unstructured life of the unemployed, there was suddenly something that was foreseeable and could be easily calculated.
There is oftentimes social hierarchy in the world of speedos (The Manshelf) and stoners (Pretty much all of park). There are feelings of self-consciousness… I’m the only one NOT wearing a speedo… And feelings of stigma… Turning down the reef.
In times of unemployment, I should probably feel hyper self-conscious and aware of all my actions. In that moment, those feelings and wondering whether or not I belong were gone.
