Great. In March, I lose the roomie and get the place to myself. By April, I’ve already found that elsusive soulmate (hanging around at the Home Depot in Colma, as it happens) and moved her into my home. With her whole damned family…

This is Irma. She watches over me from the window of my office. You might say that Irma inspires all my work. Or then again, you might not…

 

These two live in the kitchen. They do not have names yet. Irma has offered to allow Planet SOMA’s faithful readers to name them. Irma, however, is a control freak and reserves the right to ignore all submissions she hates.

 

More kitchen kids. The two smaller ones also have no names. The older one hanging from the ceiling is Cecil. He likes hanging from the ceiling. I think it’s sex thing. I also think Cecil and Irma are seeing each other behind my back.

I have a confession to make. I was not completely honest about Irma, the new love in my life, in Wednesday’s journal entry. The truth is, when Irma moved in, she brought her entire family. Please forgive this lack of forthrightness.

See pictures of Irma and the kids.

Should be an interesting weekend when Erik visits my increasingly-crowded apartment. You may remember Erik from such road trips as Minneapolis 1998 and Las Vegas 1998. I hope he won’t be jealous. And I hope he brings me some Count Chocula.

Erik in Pirate Country

In other news, Dan has informed me that Tad’s Steaks on Powell Streets will be closing at the end of June. I’m pretty pissed, because this is one of my favorite dives in the entire city. The rumor is that it will be replaced by yet another trendy pasta joint. Just what San Francisco needs…

Look for a farewell review of Tad’s soon. And look for an epitaph for all remaining reality and grittiness in San Francisco soon afterward. The mochafrappuchinozation of the city continues unabated…

Now I’m off to visit the Smog Check people as I’ve procrastinated my car registration into a minor crisis.

When I first moved here in 1992, San Francisco (and California) were still feeling the lingering effects of a major recession.

I want it back.

It sure was fun here back then. Things were expensive here even then, but people with marginal jobs and marginal incomes could still move to the city and have intereting lives. It was possible to share an apartment for a few hundred dollars a month. It was possble to rent whole houses in Potrero Hill for about a thousand a month. If you looked hard enough, you could still find a certain seediness even in sanitized zones like the Castro, in places like Castro Sataion or the doughnut shop across the street.

South of Market was a great place: it was cheap, you could park on the street, the bars were fun, and you could even find … ummm … companionship walking down Folsom Street or among the still-industrial alleys. South of Market residents were a quirky and odd bunch, and most of my friends couldn’t believe I lived here. AIDS paranoia was lifting and the “new golden age” of sex clubs like Mike’s Night Gallery and the Church was flourishing in cheap Victorian flats. And a live/work loft was a drafty warehouse which provided cheap space for artists.

The dowdy, 70s-era Safeway down the street was never crowded. The 12-Folsom buses ran on time. Sort of.

The came the boom. Now the economy is jumping. What have we gained?

First of all, it ain’t “jumping” for everyone. A certain set of skills is needed for this economy and not everyone has them (or can get them). And, of course, what’s really “jumping” is low-paying service jobs, which means a smaller proportion of people are making any money anyhow. And these jobs most definitely don’t pay enough to survive in the new San Francisco of $1000/month studio apartments and $400,000 one-bedroom condos.

So once again, what have we gained?

A new whiter and wealthier demographic, for starters. The marginal types who used to make the city lively and interesting can’t afford to move here anymore. San Francisco has always depended on new arrivals of artists, musicians, and immigrants both for its character and to staff its many service jobs. Sure…we’ve added new jobs, but most of these jobs just won’t pay the rent. Very soon we may face a city populated by upscale citizens who wonder why (a) it’s just not very exciting here anymore and (b) why Starbuck’s can’t “just hire more people” so the latte lines would move faster.

We’ve also gained the privilege of living with perpetual construction. Everywhere. It’s noisy, it’s irritating, and it slows down the traffic (which has also increased). We get to watch neighborhoods overrun with poorly-designed plywood “luxury condos” and wall-to-wall chain stores.

We’ve become a city which targets the homeless rather than the economic and development issues which make MORE people homeless. We gleefully allow developers to destroy neighborhoods and drive up rents in the name of “progress” and then run the displaced out of town or throw them in jail.

We’re fast becomg a city of chain stores and trendy bistros and brewpubs, where it’s easier to buy a $400 lamp than a $4 hammer. We’ve sanitized our back alleys, eliminated smoke-filled bars, and all but guaranteed that anyone who can’t make the cut financially or socially will not be able to move here and cause trouble.

South of Market bars are packed to the rafters with gawkers looking for a scene which hasn’t existed here in quite some time (not that they want to PARTICIPATE in this no longer extant scene, mind you). I don’t dare drive anyplace during the week, lest I find myself unable to park when I get home. Even the tastefully renovated Safeway is a nightmare.

Yup. Things are jumping in San Francisco. This economic boom has a lot of people thinking about jumping the hell out of here.

I miss my recession…

So just exactly when did parents become so convinced that (a) their offspring is welcome in every situation and (b) the needs and wants of said offspring outweigh those of all other individuals nearby?

Recently, I was at a demolition. There was this cute little family with a stroller. What the hell were these idiots thinking by bringing a baby to something like the implosion of a 16-story building? This thing was LOUD. Dust and smoke enveloped the surrounding area. This was no place for a toddler.

And, of course, Mom and Dad not only brought the kid. They also argued with the cops, trying to get even CLOSER than the barriers allowed. For the sake of their child, I hope whatever defective gene its parents have skips a generation.

After the blast, we crowded onto a streetcar, and I mean “standing room only” (and not much of that). Part of the problem was this stupid bitch with a stroller. A BIG stroller. It was parked in the middle of the aisle. In the first row of seats. By the fucking DOOR.

Mom and friend had obviously gotten on before the crowd hit. They could have chosen any seat on the train. They could have brought along a foldable stroller. They chose, however, to park the damned thing right in the path of everyone getting on or off the train.

I fear for the poor child with the mother who is not only an idiot, but an INCONSIDERATE idiot…

OK…I admit it. I sat here and watched the entire “Patty Duke Show” reunion movie. It was silly. It was hokey. It was just plain stupid. And still I watched every damned minute of it.

I need a new hobby.

Apologies again for my lack of wordiness lately. I’ve been working a lot and frankly I haven’t been really excited at the prospect of spending even more time in front of the computer.

And there’s someone new in my life. Someone who will stand by me in times of need without questioning my moods or my decisions. Someone who will wait by the window until I get home. Someone who will offer me not only companionship, but also life-giving oxygen.

Meet Irma:

Look for us to start sharing our exciting and environmentally sensitive adventures together very soon.