Two out of three ain't bad.

Growing up in small town Massachusetts, during the summer I'd fall asleep with my window open listening to the sounds of crickets, train horns and the occasional thunderstorm. Going away to college, I was serenaded with passing police sirens and the shouts of your typical gaggle of drunken 20-somethings. Eventually I got used to my respective sounds and even grew to miss them whenever I'd slumber in a different locale.

Here in San Francisco, the sounds I hear are much different.

• The sound of the trolleys riding on the tracks, straining uphill and grinding down.
• Echoing from the Pier comes the guttural sounds of sea lions at play. I had no idea what this was at first, but now that I know, it's fucking awesome.
• And if you really strain your ears, you can ever so faintly hear the intimate sounds of man on man butt loving.*

*Gay, straight, vegetable or mineral no one wants to hear you make amore. Unless the holy triumvirate of Alba, Johanson, Biel are involved.