lunch at wired

where what was once achingly hip now just looks inconvenient. It’s housed in a converted warehouse tucked under a feeeway on 3rd street, abou a half mile walk from the subway. Up at the top is cool clean chic: MOMA, the Moscone centre, stuff like that, but as the road goes on, it’s obvious that the tide of gentrification lapped up to the freeway, and has since receded.

At the crossing just before a middle-aged black guy in front of me says to his companion: “See that flag there?” I thought it said M&M. But it’s ‘wired’.” He sounds beildered that anyone would put something so stupid on a flag. Inside the walls are whitewashed and the doors painted primary colours.

It’s spacious, quiet, and, I thought subdued.

After lunch and walking back up the street I feel completely drained, exhausted. Stagger around the compusa store for a while without buying anything

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