Quickie update for those worried about my favorite sweatshirt (see below): when I headed back to the laundromat this morning to see if they had a lost and found, I was surprised to find all my duds still sitting in the very dryer I’d put them in fourteen hours earlier. This demonstrates that (a) San Francisco really IS like a small town and (b) the folks at Brain Wash are not particularly attentive.

Seventeen years ago tonight, I was on the radio for the first time. I vaguely remember that the music I played included “Mesopotamia” by the B-52s, “From the Air” by Laurie Anderson, and “Love Steet” by the Doors. And there was this public service announcement for the Runaway Hotline which started “cold out here…dark too…”, which became sort of a running gag among my friends and family for years.

Actually, it’s still a running gag among some of us, especially my Dad.

That was a great summer. I met some of the people who remain among my closet friends to this day, including Duncan and Carroll. My taste in music moved more from the 1960s and 1970s into the 1980s.

In honor of the occasion, I spent last night helping give birth to a bouncing baby website for the Swingin’ Utters. Punk rock sure has changed. Friday night used to mean going out and getting plastered while slowly developing tinnitis. Now it means sitting in an apartment in Lower Haight with Mom, Dad, and the cutest baby in the world working on the website.

Oddly enough, I have no major objection to this change…

What I have objections to this morning is the way that Southwest Airlines is fucking over my friend Scott who was scheduled to arrive from Detroit at 1:00. It’s noon now. He’s still in Detroit. His itinerary has been changed four times and they STILL can’t tell him when he’ll be leaving (or when or where he’ll be arriving). This is why I never fly, except in emergencies. Airlines in general suck and couldn’t give a rat’s ass about customer service.

Off to the laundromat now, as I seem to have an extra day to kill…

I’ve come to the disturbing conclusion that the only things keeping me in San Francisco are the climate and a bad case of inertia.

Apart from these two factors and a few friends I’d miss quite severely, I can’t really think of any good reason why I’m still here. San Francisco isn’t really fun anymore. The city has changed. I’ve changed. Why am I stressing over living in an overpriced city which is losing many of the very characteristics I was willing to pay extra to be near?

I keep trying to convince myself otherwise, but the truth is I just don’t like it here very much anymore. A lot of it is related to all the changes here: the gentrtification, the crowding, the fact that SF is becoming a “cute” little strip mall, etc. It’s not fun anymore. The city has become a very career-obsessed sort of place, a haven for overachievers, thanks in large measure to the northward creep of the soulless Silicon Valley culture (or lack thereof).

But I’m not blind to changes in my own life either. I no longer feel the need to be near a large “gay community” (whatever the hell that is). Having a sex club within walking distance is no longer a priority. I’ve learned that the world is not divided into “San Francisco” and “everywhere else”.

Basically, I’m no onger willing to pay twice as much rent to live someplace which no longer offers me twice the benefits. Hmmm… a cost-benefit analysis. Now there’s a concept my new neighbors might understand.

I’ve been hinting about it off and on for a year or two, but I’d like to announce officially at this point that I’m leaving San Francisco. I haven’t decided exactly when I’m leaving or where I’m going. But I’m getting the hell out. Sometime.

I have to stay here at least another week, though, because my nose itches (which means company’s a-comin’). On Saturday, yer humble host welcomes Scott from Detroit. Scott’s never been here before. Scott was raised in the closest thing San Francisco has to a polar opposite. This should be interesting to watch…