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san francisco - mark kozelek lyrics

i need to stretch more, my left knee
if i bend down to pick something up i gotta grab hold of something to lift myself
it used to be my right knee and now it’s my left
it must have been my left that was supporting my right all this time, and now the left is giving out
like my mom, i’ll likely end up with knee replacements

caroline and i are just back from lunch
and a nice walk, except for seeing a seagull that’s legs were tied together by fishing line
and n0body could do anything about it
because he was in an illegal, closed*off section of the pier
he could let the wind pick him up and soar a little
but he’d descend back to the cement and land crookedly on his tied up legs
left behind, watching his flock soar, screeching for their help

caroline and i were in a panic asking people for scissors
i was gonna jump the barricade and cut the line that tied his legs together but we couldn’t find anything
we couldn’t even find fingernail clippers
we found a fishing one with a big bl**dy serrated fishing knife
but the line that tied the seagull’s feet together needed to be snipped quickly
trying to saw the line with a knife while a seagull was fighting you off could tear his legs off
i’m no expert in animal rescue, but that knife wasn’t gonna work
plus, people were gathering around
and f*ck if i was gonna be caught on video jumping a barricade on a fishing pier with an enormous bl**dy knife in my hand
i can see the headline now, “crazed musician jumps barricade bludgeoning seagulls with large knife”

a fisherman threw him an anchovy and another seagull chewed it up and spit it down the disabled seagull’s beak
the helpless seagull did one last soar and landed in the bay
my shoulders slumped, and i said to a middle*aged british tourist next to me, “well, i guess he’ll be part of the food chain.”
he and i then talked about how we eat animals that we hoped were treated humanely
and i interrupted him, “wow, we’re two old white dudes patting ourselves on the back, who are we kidding?
every animal we eat is k!lled against their will.”
then we talked about plastic, and how we grew up with plastic
and now we’re told not to use it anymore
and right there before our eyes was the reason that plastic is slowly being phased out
i’m going fishing tomorrow, i hope someone invents some sort of eco*friendly fishing line
maybe they already have, i’ll have to ask around
for perch and rockfish, i use two to three hooks set about a foot*and*a*half apart
with a three*ounce weight tied to the bottom
if one of those hooks gets caught on a rock covered in mussels
while trying to reel in a fish, the line breaks, and the fish gets bashed against the mussels every time a wave comes
until a seal comes around and gets him or the crabs pick him apart
yes, they become a part of the food change
but i hate to think of a fish stuck on a line like that, and being bashed against the rocks
and the plastic line that’s out there in the water

the tourist said that he and his wife were famous for owning a one*off handmade car that was made in the late*60s
that they were on some british tv show
i chucked and said that i was b*level famous
they said, “b*level famous for what?”
i said, “ah, i’m a musician.”
they asked what i sounded like
i said, “well, like nick cave i guess, sorta dark.”
the guy lit up and said, “alright, nick cave!”
when being asked what kind of music i play, i always try to get inside the head of the person who’s asking
walk in their shoes for a second, and think of a denominator they’ll connect with
i’ve answered this question many times with various replies ranging from neil young to r.e.m to radiohead
something they’ll know
it’s the right way to get it over with when you realize the jam you’ve put yourself in
like this one, two old guys talking about our fame while absolutely no one hovers around us asking for autographs

he talked about how he didn’t know who nick cave was until nick collaborated with a famous female singer
i can’t think of her name, i don’t know enough about nick cave
but to bring this conversation to an end as quickly as possible, i pretended i knew exactly who the female singer was
and he said, “yeah, she’s who put him on the map!”
in the middle of all of this, caroline got a text that our table was ready
i could see the relief in her face
not only because we’d be eating lunch soon, but also because we found a genuine segway to shake off the tourists
the lunch place was way up on polk street and we needed to get moving
we shook the british tourist’s hands and said goodbye
caroline said, “that poor seagull, and my god, that conversation went on for a long time mark!”
i said, “well, i was the one who started it.”
the sound of that seagull’s panic is something i won’t soon forget
nor the tourist going on about his rare one*off handmade car

on our way back up russian hill, we talked about the seagull
and i grumbled about a friend who has mysteriously turned all pouty on me about vague things
i’m not sure what the issue is, but he hasn’t communicated with me for about a week
if you’re a man racking your brains trying to figure out why your friend is ignoring you and being uncooperative
creating walls for reasons that you can’t identify
the answer may lie in the fact that he’s significantly shorter than you
if he’s older than you, that could be it too
or maybe if he’s single
what did captain ahab say in moby d*ck?
something like, “the old whales attract less females, it makes them bitter.”

we finally sat down for lunch on upper*polk street
while i was drinking my iced tea, a waitress with a british accent handed me a plastic straw and asked, “a cont or a bond?”
i said, “i’m sorry? excuse me, i didn’t understand.”
she looked at me perturbed and repeated, “a cont or a bond?”
in the middle of that sunday brunch den, for a solid 10 to 15 seconds
i had no idea what in the f*ck was happening
with vacillating eyes, i nodded yes
she handed me the straw and dashed quickly away from the imbecile of the day
i was shaking my head, confused, looking at caroline like, “what did i do?”
caroline leaned in towards me and said, very quietly
“the waitress was asking you, ‘do you want contraband?'”

- mark kozelek lyrics

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