Journals : 1997
12 January 1997 | Link this
I guess my two-plus weeks in North Carolina could best be described as "restful", which may be just what I needed following my newfound umeloyment. I spent a lot of time with mom and dad, not much time going out, only minimal times shopping and cruising, and I slept a lot. Good things included seeing the family at Christmas, spending time with Jeff and Duncan, and much excellent food. Less good were the fact that I was half sick for my whole visit (not used tp places with heat, I guess...), I didn't get to visit my friend Dawn in Charlotte, and really heinous airline food.
A few things which come to mind after this visit:
- The preppy look never goes out of style in North Carolina, especially among gay men. I've never seen so many oxford shirts "tastefully" layered over polo shirts all tucked into khakis or acid-washed jeans anywhere else.
- People on airplanes flying home for the hoildays look as if they're going to a funeral. Guess the stress level is a bit much, huh? Maybe it's even more intense on flights out of San Francisco, where it seems everyone is running away from something.
- There should be a law against going to "retro" nights at clubs in cities where you grew up and no longer live. Major emotional roller coaster.
- The last call rush is much more intense in North Carolina than in California, maybe because state law in NC gives you a very civilized half hour to finish drinks bought at 2AM.
- Why is it that in an intense place like San Francisco, speed is the drug of choice, while in a laid back (OK...boring) place like Greensboro, it seems to be all about heroin. You'd think the reverse would be true.
- Newspaper stories in North Carolina still tell you what to do with an Internet address: "if you have Internet access, take a web browser, such as Netscape, and type in..."
- Why is it so intensely unpleasant to be in a gay bar alone in the South? Here, it's pretty standard for me, but everything is so damned clannish and cliquish there, it just seems really uncomfortable. It doesn't help that absolutely NO ONE would dare appraoch an "outsider".
- A few things which will always happen when I visit mom and dad: meals at the K&W cafeteria, a trip to the Virginia line to play the lottery (NC doesn't have one yet), and a tour of every new suburban development within 30 miles. Fortunately, I enjoy this...
- In the Charlotte airport, it is cheaper to go to a bar for a Coke than to one of the fastfood places. Plus, you get free refills and can smoke! Of course, in the Greensboro airoprt, you can smoke everywhere, so it's not even an issue.
- Southern friendliness and hospitality are often overrated. If you don't "look right", you'll see what I mean.
14 January 1997 | Link this
It is good to be back in San Francisco. I missed my neighborhood, my friends, my computer...
It continues to be freezing cold here. Granted, freezing cold in San Francisco means the temperature dips into the 30's occasionally. But we're all major weather wimps here, so if it's below 45 or above 75, everyone sort of freaks out.
I love San Francisco. It's as if the cream of the crop from around the country -- the deviants, the psychos, the geeks, the skaters, the punks, the sluts, the artists, the musicians -- all converged here in order to pay ridiculous rents to live in old buildings with less than adequate heat but to have stunning views (and viewpoints) thrust on them constantly.
Got picked up on the subway yesterday by a way cute boy who has not as yet called back. Neither of us had time to do anything right then and there (pity...), but we did manage to play the game and moved really fast into the conversation stage,etc. This doesn't happen so easily other places. In most other cities, you have to go through the "is he queer or just trying to sell me drugs" phase, which wastes precious time. Depending on your tastes, there's also often the "does he just want to rob me" stage. Here, you can be pretty certain that (a) he's queer and (b) even if he wants to rob you or sell you drugs, he'll probably have sex with you first.
I love San Francisco.
15 January 1997 | Link this
OK...I've rearranged all my books and grouped them by subject (while stopping short of using the Library of Congress system), all the dishes are clean, and the floors are swept, I've rearranged and fixed almost every page on the web site, answered all my email, cleaned up the hard drive...what do I do next?
Unemployment is hard to get used to. I've never done it before. So frighteningly much free time. No structure to my life or my days. It's really odd. I never really noticed it until this week; for the first few weeks, I was in North Carolina, so it seemed like a natural vacation. Now I'm home and I'm a little perplexed by the whole scene.
A few good things: I've been able to do things in the daytime, like the MacWorld Expo Friday, lunch with Mark today, "I Love Lucy" at 2PM on Channel 20 every day... Tomorrow I get to wait for the repair person from PG&E to come fix the heat. Great timing...the coldest it's been in San Francisco in the 4 1/2 years I've lived here and I have no heat. And just when I'm spending all day at home too...
I've decided that this month would be a really convenient time for me to have a heavy romantic involvement, if anyone's interested. I have time now, and I don't have to worry about getting out of bed to go to work. I can linger by the phone all day waiting for "him to call", without worry about having to be somewhere else at a given time. Plus, someone else in the sack would help with the heating situation immensely...
Anybody wanna go see a bargain matinee?
15 January 1997 Later | Link this
It is good to be back in San Francisco. I missed my neighborhood, my friends, my computer...
It continues to be freezing cold here. Granted, freezing cold in San Francisco means the temperature dips into the 30's occasionally. But we're all major weather wimps here, so if it's below 45 or above 75, everyone sort of freaks out.
I love San Francisco. It's as if the cream of the crop from around the country -- the deviants, the psychos, the geeks, the skaters, the punks, the sluts, the artists, the musicians -- all converged here in order to pay ridiculous rents to live in old buildings with less than adequate heat but to have stunning views (and viewpoints) thrust on them constantly.
Got picked up on the subway yesterday by a way cute boy who has not as yet called back. Neither of us had time to do anything right then and there (pity...), but we did manage to play the game and moved really fast into the conversation stage,etc. This doesn't happen so easily other places. In most other cities, you have to go through the "is he queer or just trying to sell me drugs" phase, which wastes precious time. Depending on your tastes, there's also often the "does he just want to rob me" stage. Here, you can be pretty certain that (a) he's queer and (b) even if he wants to rob you or sell you drugs, he'll probably have sex with you first.
I love San Francisco.
18 February 1997 | Link this
Freaky Fresno. Read more.
21 February 1997 | Link this
I have a car again. Color me happy! I have returned to the ranks of car owners. I am once again part of the problem, not part of the solution. I can go to Safeway in the middle of the night when I run out of Cocoa Pebbles. I can stop hitchhiking on those damned road trips. The address printed on my driver's license, my registration, my insurance, and my checks all match. I can once again experience the joy of parking in San Francisco...
9 March 1997 | Link this
Damn! A whole year on line. Actually a little more, since the experimental Planet SOMA went up in early February 1996. I never thought that (a) I'd still be doing this so obsessively a year later or (b) that I'd be approaching my 100,000th visitor ny now. All I can say is a very big "thanks" to everyone who has stopped by, written words of support, offered suggestions, wished me well when I was sick and when my car became charcoal, or even told me I was dead wrong about something. Special thanks to all those who have linked me to your own sites or otherwise pointed people in my direction. It's been tons of fun.
17 March 1997 | Link this
I've been meeting a lot of interesting people lately. In a way, I'm finding that I'm more social right now than I've been in a long time, despite my recent bouts of cynicism and "I'm bored with fags" attitude.
Friday night I was at the Hole in the Wall. First time I'd spent a really fun night in there in quite a while. It was as if all the tweaker trash had decided to go someplace else for the night, and people I knew and actually liked were lurking around every corner. It was a strange collection of people who -- like me at the moment -- used to go out a lot but seem to have developed a little perspective and are doing other things more frequently now. It was sort of nice.
It was also a collection of people I'd met in a number of ways, quite a few of them being people I'd met online. Not in chat areas or on IRC; I absolutely detest that whole online chat thing. It's good for some, but it just doesn't work for me.
Most of my online friends are people I've met as a result of the web site, or related to the occasional Usenet posting about whatever subject. I think it bodes well for the medium that a few people who I knew as text-only before I knew them in person have become some of my closest friends: a recent case in point being Sarah.
Yes, it is very true that I have slept with people I initially met online. That number is probably about 10-12 or so at this point. The really interesting thing, though, is that I've kept in touch with most of these people after the fact as well. Much better average than for those I've picked up in bars or sex clubs.
Many readers know I haven't even walked into a sex club in over six months. It's a little hard to maintain a web presence which promotes them without actually doing the...ummm..legwork, but I'm trying. This is because I still think sex clubs are a good and healthy thing. They're just not the thing for me right now, for a number of reasons.
It is possible to have dialogues and actually "meet" people (not just their penises) in sex clubs. I met my longest-term "serious" boyfriend ever in one. The first time we had sex, fifteen people were watching and we found nothing particularly odd about that at the time or later. I used to be fairly known for having long conversations in the kitchen at Mike's Night Gallery. Made a lot of observers really nervous; guess I wasn't being "anonymous" enough for some. Fortunately, my conversation partners were no more bothered by it than me.
Maybe the fact that this stopped happening to me, even occasionally, is part of the reason I gradually just stopped going to sex clubs. I never consciously stopped; I just sort of realized one day that I wasn't going anymore. I may start again just as unconsciously. Who knows?
The explanation of why I'm not going out to bars much now that I can go out any night I choose is no doubt more complicated, and I'm still working on it...
Anyway...Sunday night I did something I really haven't done in a long time. I picked up someone at My Place, made out a bit there and brought him home. What's odd about this? To start, I've had an annoying habit lately of only bringing home people I already know (repeat performances, so to speak). Also, most of my activity at My Place has been confined to the actual bar lately.
This turned out to be a special case, though. If there was even a "match made in heaven" for me, this was probably it. He was 31, casually employed, a smoker and a drinker and meat eater but not a drug freak, he liked fucking to Sonic Youth, his sweat tasted great, and it was REALLY fun sex, with an intensity level I haven't experienced in a good while. And he was capable of having a conversation afterward. As luck would have it for me, I'll probably never hear from him again, even though he seemed enthusiastic about the idea as he left.
20 March 1997 | Link this
Go Northwest: Portland and Seattle. Read more.
5 April 1997 | Link this
Upon my return to San Francisco from the Northwest tour, I realized that I was not terribly excited to be home. This is pretty major; I've always been amazed at how excited, even relieved, I was to see the SF skyline when returning from a trip. I've never felt that way about any other place I've lived. In Greensboro and Charlotte, my returns were always accompanied by a sense of sadness and dread.
Could this mean that my four-year love affair with San Francisco (the longest romantic entanglement of my life) is nearing an end? It's been something I've been considering for several months.
I have no idea what I want to do for a living. I'm not sure I want to continue living in San Francisco. I'm not even real clear on what I want to spend a given evening doing lately. What's up here?
Three and a half months of voluntary and planned unemployment have convinced me that I'm no closer to having a plan than I was in Decemeber when I quit my job. This is a little scary, because at some point the money will run out. My vision of a life which is not dominated by career only extends so far, and it does not include fasting, sleeping on the streets, or giving up cable TV.
Not that any of these things are a pressing danger, but they remind me that I need to decide what I want to be when I grow up pretty soon.
Writing would be a good choice, but I don't see being able to support myself that way for about a decade (if ever). But suggestions are welcome.I'm starting to wonder if maybe I should just get a low-impact job which allows me to survive while doing what I want to do. It is a given that the new "low-impact" career will in NO WAY involve working with the public in a retail-type environment.
10 April 1997 | Link this
Viva Las Vegas. Read more.
21 April 1997 | Link this
Strange weekend. Added flesh and blood to two more text-based friends, looked at art, drank a little, saw an old friend, tidied up the resume a bit, and went into a severe two-day funk from which I'm just now emerging.
Martin and David are two people I've been corresponding with for quite a while...one of them from Portland and one from San Francisco. Meeting both of them in one week was a good thing. I've decided that people who get to know each other via e-mail have a certain intelligence and sanity which is very refreshing. Neither of these meetings was of a sexual nature (although both scored well on the oh so superficial "appearance test"). It's really nice, though, meeting someone face to face for the first time and feeling as if you already know them.
Friday: Dinner at Memphis Minnie's, which is without question my new favorite scarfing ground in the city. Good and low-key. We celebrated my roommate's return to the world of the semi-unemployed (by his choice). Realizing that jobs don't have to suck is becoming a tradition on our street.
Out for a beer later on, solo. No one around. Was everyone in the city worried that the very mild "wet fog" would be a hairdo-deflater?
Saturday: Pinky and the Brain. Animaniacs. Met Sarah (speaking of text-based friendships come to life) and Martin for the new "Icons" exhibit at SFMOMA. Yer host at an art museum...imagine that... Actually, it was pretty interesting, although I remain unconvinced that lipsticks and a bar of soap from the Gap are really art. All in all, though, it was a good show.
Went to a brew pub in North Beach afterward for beers (them) and traditional Southern iced tea (me, feeling caffeine-deficient). Somehow the funk hit right around this point. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was the caffeine or lack thereof.
Rotten night. Sat around the house. Read. Whined. Listened to depressing music. Moaned. Pondered going on. Passed. Went to bed hoping to sleep it off.
Sunday: Sleeping it off didn't work, so I went to Oakland for the afternoon. I'm not entirely sure how the two are related, but Oakland always seems vaguely comforting. Bought newspapers (SF and Seattle). Flipped off a hippie in a microbus who didn't know how to drive (or was too stoned to do so). Realized the funk wasn't going away. Came home.
Off to the beer bust at My Place. Ran into someone who used to (a) be a really close friend and co-worker and (b) have a life. Neither is the case now, thanks to a little problem with speed. From $40,000 a year to homeless in six months. So much for harmless recreational drug use. Gave him a ride to the sofa he's currently "surfing".
At the beer bust. Light oral sex in the back area proved uninspiring. Ran into a recent "affair" who I'd also seen last week. Last Sunday, we had a really long and good talk and some "bonding". I hadn't really expected (or particularly wanted) a reconciliation. I also hadn't expected that he'd leave with someone else while I was in the bathroom. Maybe it is possible for even a jaded slut like myself to occasionally get my feelings hurt. This week, we didn't really even talk to each other. Probably better that way.
Missed the Simpsons. Decided to try and sleep off the funk one more time.
Went to sleep pondering the job that I don't have (and probably am not qualified for), the romance that I don't have in my life (I'm not referring to the one just mentioned), and the fact that things looked much more promising to me six months ago.
Monday: Resumes via e-mail. Finished moving the site to the new machine. Feeling a little better about life. The Christmas episode of the Andy Griffith Show was on this morning.
About jobs: I quit because I wanted to. I have not missed working at Kinko's for one single minute since I left. I've had a pretty interesting time during my first long-term period of unemployment since 1985. I'll get another job soon. It's just time to get aggressive.
And on romance: I decided on my own several months ago that my most likely prospect of late was not "the one". Our agendas were too dissimilar. Never really knew if he'd nominated himself for that position anyway. We're still friends. And as always, I don't want a realtionship; I want someone to have a relationship with.
Ultimately, I had responsibility for all the decisions I'm now reflecting on, and I'm now assuming responsibility for convincing myself I was right. Of course, any help is always appreciated...an email opportunity is a terrible thing to waste.
Pardon the downer. I plan to be cynically amusing again very soon.