In the spirit of blatant consumerism, I’ve set up an Amazon Wish List, in case anyone was wondering what I wanted for, umm, Memorial Day. What better way to ask people I’ve never met to send gifts to me at an undisclosed address! I did not, however, use the email notification option. I imagine my friends are most grateful…

The day I realized I was finally a grownup was the day (sometime in early 1997, I think) that I realized that I was spending more money on reading material than on drinking. I’ve always read a lot, finding good used book stores is a major highlight of any road trip, and booksellers have easily surpassed bars and cruising spots as my most sought-after discoveries, with vintage supermarkets and thrift stores close runners-up.

I read non-fiction almost exclusively, although I did go through several “novel phases” in my 20s. And yes, I still read a proportionately large number of titles related to my college major (urban studies), although I never quite found the right occupation which might allow me to work at what interests me.

And I still read newspapers too. At least two on most days, and sometimes more, especially if I’m on the road. I prefer them in their actual paper format; I read the hometown paper online, just because I can’t buy it here, but holding the newspaper and taking it with you to the bathroom or on the bus is half the fun.

I still see the internet as an information source more than anything else as well. I don’t really look to the web to entertain me per se. Or maybe I do, since I find information to be infinitely entertaining. But once the dirty pictures phase (everyone goes through it, most outgrow it) wore off, I mostly went online in search of something specific and if I was in a “surfing” mood, it was usually a semi-directed surf all the same.

That’s probably why this site started out so information-heavy, despite its current emphasis on the journals. I know a little about a lot of things (and not a lot, alas, about any), so it’s natural things grew in many directions. An information junkie with a short attention span is a dangerous thing.

Especially when he starts babbling. Please hold me to the promise I’m now making to move off this half-assed semi-introspective crap and get back to my cynical and sarcastic roots very soon…

Thing I really hate today:

More or less complete strangers (with whom I’ve exchanged ONE very brief round of email) who spontaneously add me to their “forwarded forwarded email virus alerts ” mailing lists. I’m not too fond of ANYONE who does this, but to do it after one round of email is truly repulsive.

Note to sender: I don’t have a Windows machine (thank God), I’ve already deleted this message 20 times this year, and spam is bad enough, thanks, without having it come from “friends” too.

Realizations while listening to the 1980s station while driving to Safeway tonight:

You never would have heard a segue between Tone Loc and the Cure on any actual radio station during the actual 1980s. Things just didn’t work that way. Stations focusing on the 1960s and 1970s offer similarly improbable pairings of, say, Steppenwolf and Neil Diamond.

Commercial oldies stations have this way of mushing up an entire decade into a format which says “if it was a hit and it will make people stop changing stations until the next commercial, we will play it.” Which is, of course, the whole point of commercial radio. Keep in mind that you are not the radio station’s customer. You are its product, neatly delivered to its actual customers, the advertisers.

Of course, what this means is that commercial radio pretty much sucks as far as long-term listening goes (KABL excepted, of course). It’s not really designed for that, even though some of us still do it. I my be a program director’s wet dream; I’m so lethargic that once I have a station set, I don’t change it until the most heinous thing imaginable assaults me. Which is why I listen to college radio a lot…

Never much been one for switching stations a lot, be it radio or TV. Watching TV with a remote-happy partner who can’t stay parked for more than 30 seconds (my dad, for example) is my idea of an evening in hell. And, despite claims to the contrary, there must be a lot of others like me. Otherwise, the networks wouldn’t sandwich all their new (and often rotten) shows between two hits. This would also explain why I’ve started watching The Fresh Prince after Roseanne every day.

I’m sort of curious how other people feel about this too, but wondering aloud might result in a lot of email I probably won’t answer, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.

But I’m off the stated topic, I’ve used up my space, and I haven’t even gotten to my other realization: that “Oh Sheila” by Ready for the World really desperately wanted to be a Prince song. Or a Sheila E song, which is essentially the same thing, all in all.

Back to the grind…

And it’s a teenage sadness everyone has got to face. An in-between age madness that you know you can’t erase. Till she’s sittin’ on your face…

Sorry. I heard that song on Channel 104.9 (KABL was running a baseball game) the other day as I was crossing the Bay Bridge. I was strangely comforted to realize that American popular culture and morality has now advanced to the point where radio stations can now play the unedited versions of songs by The Knack from over 20 years ago.

“Till she puts you in your place” indeed…

There is, alas, no other real excitement in my life this week. We hit the Kripsy Kreme again Thursday night. I’m plugging away on the much anticipated (yeah, right…) fourth edition of Did You Bring Bottles. Submissions still solicited. I’m also working on things I’ll actualy get paid for, but that’s boring…

I’m thinking about a little road trip to LA in a few weeks. strangely enough, I’ve spent a grand total of about ten days there in my whole eight years in California. And I’ve never visited alone. There’s also never been an official Planet SOMA Road Trip to LA. So I think it’s time for a goo four or five days in the Southland. Details to follow. Should be fun now that I’ve cast aside my belief that San Francisco is the center of the known universe.

When banking goes horribly wrong. My bank, which shall remain nameless in an effort to thwart identity thieves and libel suits, has stolen $600 from my account and they won’t tell me why. I deposited two checks Thursday night. One of them was “adjusted” the next day. This could mean anything; I may have forgotten to endorse it or whatever.

The problem is that no one can tell me what the hell happened. The phone support people say that I’ve been notified “by letter” and that’s all they know. God knows when I might see this wondrous letter, and it’s a good thing I don’t have any checks pending which will require that money. Yet.

Guess which major bank I’ll no longer be using when this mess is finally cleared up? If I screwed up and didn’t sign the check, I understand that they needed to return it. But couldn’t they at least include a notation to that effect on my account record so the phone support people could tell me what the fuck was going on?

Anyway, I promised a fun update, right? Here’ are some well-timed songs which hit my mood just right then past few days:

• While cruising an adorable long-haired boy in a porkpie hat and trying to steal his attention from someone else: “Pulling Mussels from a Shell” by Squeeze.
• While getting a blowjob from the aforementioned boy in a semi-public place as the spurned one watches: “Jumping Someone Else’s Train” by the Cure.
• While driving down East Belmont in Fresno: “Rock and Roll Fantasy” by the Kinks. Note that this is NOT the song of the same name by Bad Company, which would make no superlative list of mine.

Busy couple of days. Jim was here Thursday, looking for that ever-elusive affordable house in SF. We had dinner at the Tennessee Grill and drove around in lots of circles. Which is OK, because I like doing both of these things.

Lunch at Jim’s Diner on Friday (different Jim), and dinner with Dan and Jamie at Val’s in Hayward on Friday night (review coming soon). And then on Saturday, I went to Fresno to do my laundry. Uneventful trip, actually, but I took lots of pictures (soon), bought cheap cigarettes, and was surprised by how excited I was to be paying only $1.55 for regular unleaded gas.

OK, so it wasn’t such a fun update. But there was sex at least, albeit quick and cheap sex…