Better a Witty Fool than a Foolish Wit

Inner Workings of My Twisted Mind.

Fog City

After spending the Thanksgiving weekend in my favorite city, San Francisco, I started thinking about weather. It’s funny because for the last three years, weather has been a phenomenon that has happened rather than something that is a day to day occurrence. Literally, living in Los Angeles makes one a total lunatic when it comes to weather. It rains for 20 minutes and immediately a flash flood warning starts running across the screen. Yesterday, the lead news story was about fog. Seriously, it was about fog. As though fog is some sort of freak event that never happens anywhere. Like Adrienne Barbeau and John Carpenter are going to come out and start killing people.

So I got to thinking about fog and the different places that I’ve lived because really, the three separate places that I’ve lived in my life have some odd relationships with fog.

In L.A. fog, like any other weather besides sun, means disaster. The news last night was about how many accidents were caused by fog that in any other part of this state would be considered normal, daily fog. And fog really just seems out of place in L.A. like an abomination, a freak of nature. The palm trees and bright lights make a foggy L.A. look apocalyptic as opposed to romantic. It’s not even creepy like London fog is supposed to be, it’s just plain wrong.

London fog, on the other hand, is an absolute myth. I’m sure there was fog when Dickens was writing about it, though it was most likely (according to a Lit professor of mine in London) smog and suit from all the coal burning factories. Now, however, there is no such thing as London fog, at least not that I saw. There’s gloom, London certainly has plenty of cloudy overcastness, but true fog in the city of London, a complete myth in our modern cleaner city.

Of course the third kind of fog is really the only kind that matters, San Francisco fog. San Francisco fog is unlike anything, anywhere, ever. It’s romantic and beautiful. It comes in and blankets the city within a matter of minutes. It is cold and drizzly. It makes you want to stay inside and read (this is my theory about why people in L.A. are functionally illiterate: the weather is too nice). San Francisco fog is my favorite kind of fog. I’m actually writing a book right now, set in the bay area (where else?) that deals in great detail with the fog. Because really, when you live there you notice it less, but coming back to visit, I’ve begun to understand what a blessing the fog is. It’s like you get to live in this hazy beautiful area where everything is soft like a cloud. And sure, I remember how depressing it can be after a few weeks of nothing but, but even still, there’s something undeniably perfect about the thick coating of fog on top of the best city on earth.

Peace, Love, and Hazy Hilltops,


December 5, 2008 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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