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2000

Bad Day

The only thing that saved my Thursday was Mom’s arrival. Other than that, it was a day I’d just as soon have skipped.

I saw a woman commit suicide in the Hyatt Regency yesterday afternoon. I was there for a quick work meeting for my part-time job in the lobby bar. Just as we were about to leave, this horrible loud noise happened. I thought it was a gun shot and I was about to duck. Instead, I looked over and saw, not twenty feet from where I was sitting, a woman lying on the floor.

It took everyone just a few seconds to realize she had jumped from a balcony about 8-10 stories up, and she was unquestionably quite dead.

Amazingly, there was very little panic. I think everyone was just a little stunned. No one would go over to her, I guess because no one wanted to discover the obvious. A woman behind us was sort of hysterically screaming, but it was almost as if no one else had noticed.

Finally a security guard went over and felt for her pulse and all and then just left her there for a minute. Eventually someone came and covered her up. Then they asked us to clear the area, which we were more than happy to do, but couldn’t seem to commence without the suggestion.

It was one of the creepiest things that’s ever happened to me and I was already a little edgy from not sleeping well the night before. The drive to SFO to pick up my mom worried me a little, but I was fine. And I was really glad when her plane landed. I wanted my mommy.

Rather makes the fact that some uninsured speed freak ran into my car later last night seem insignificant in comparison.

I’m enjoying Friday considerably more than Thursday, thanks…

Tired Mom

Mom’s asleep, worn out, no doubt, from three days of non-stop madness which have so far included a visit to the Delta, dinner with Dan, Jamie, and Sarah at the Dead Fish, quick walk-throughs at the Folsom Street Fair and the Pacifica Fog Fest and more. Pictures and other details later. Right now I’m actively unclogging my kitchen sink.

Mom does SF

So I actually went to the Folsom Street Fair for the first time in several years. It was every bit as boring as it always is, but it was slightly amusing being there with my mom. Fortunately, she was no more impressed than I was, and her curiosity was satisfied with a brief walk-through. Which was about all I could stand too…

Yes. Mom skipped the spanking booth. And yes, she could tell that most of those leather jockstraps were filled more with toilet paper than genitalia.

The visit was great. We covered lots of ground, from the Delta to Point Reyes to Polk Street. We ate well, and I’ll be eating leftovers for weeks. We talked and watched The Simpsons (which is now back up to three airings a day on UPN44) and shopped at numerous supermarkets. We finally retired the chair which has supported my ass through 4 1/2 years of Planet SOMA, replacing it with a spiffy new replacement.

I miss Mom and she’s only been gone since this morning. Yes, I was gettng used to having breakfast and coffee ready every morning when I woke up. And yes, I teared up a little when she left this morning. By the way, does anybody want some macaroni and cheese?

A few pictures from Mom’s visit. You can click ’em all you want, but they won’t get any bigger. So there…

 

I promise to be less folksy and homsespun and to start answering email again soon. Really…

Crushes and Geeks

The great thing about being 36 is that I’ve gotten past those obsessive crushes of my youth. These things used to throw me into the most severe funks imaginable, but now I find myself getting more amused than frustrated by them.

The current one, as it happens, is directed toward this cute, geeky straight guy I know. Nothing will ever come of it, I’m quite certain, and I don’t particularly care. I don’t even think about him very often, save for the occasional masturbatory fantasy where he does really out of character things and talks dirty.

I love cute little geeky guys. They’re only one of many types which can get me going sexually, but they’re probably the only type which will ever have a real shot at me romantically.

By the way, I’m not using geek as a synonym for “computer nerd” here. The two types merge sometimes but not always. My definition of geekiness is based more on an active intellect combined with an almost childlike enthusiasm for a few really esoteric subjects (one of which may or may not be digital in nature). The “childlike” part is very important; a good geek is first and foremost a big kid.

Anyway, I’m not stressing about this little crush. In fact, I’m a bit relieved that it’s happened. In my cynical little world, it’s quite refreshing to find myself engaged in such an innocent and harmless pastime. Maybe there’s hope for me after all.

Things I like today:

Over-hyped thing I realized tonight I don’t much care for:

Sex in the City

I Miss the Road

Eight years ago tonight, I was spending my last night in Denver on my first cross-country road trip, moving from Greensboro to San Francisco. I shan’t wax nostalgic about that exciting period in my life (it’s been done). That’s not really what I’m thinking about tonight, although I imagine that I will be soon, because that’s just what I do this time of year. It’s autumn. I get reflective. Always have. So sue me.

Tonight, though, I’m just thinking that I want to be on the road. On the road back east. I’ve got a big craving not to be in California for a while. I want to be driving I-95 or U.S. 1. I want to see trees where the leaves change colors, and mountains that aren’t brown (oops, I mean “golden”). I want White Castles and Stuckey’s and bars where you can still smoke. I want to go through those toll booths where you just throw your coins into a hamper.

I’m craving Boston and New York and Philly, with maybe a little Baltimore and some Providence thrown in for fun. This was the route of my first major road trip, back in 1988. I had a different agenda back then. I was with my friend Jeff and the itinerary was largely about partying, record stores, and clothing stores. I might do it a little differently this time.

I can state with certainty that I’d do one thing differently, though. I’d never again visit Mahattan in August.

Anyway, this is all leading up to the fact that I’m considering doing just this roadtrip in January, somewhere in the midst of a long trip home after the holidays. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to work out the details (money being a large one), but does anyone want to hang out? By that, I men once I get wherever I’m headed, since I always travel alone. Trust me, it’s better that way…

And does anyone want to remind me how much snow I’ll have to drive through in January?

Anniversaries

It’s all about anniversaries for me. When I was keeping my journals in high school, even, I used to keep up with them sort of obsessively. I’d cover the one-year anniversary of the first time I got caught smoking, or the ten-year anniversary of the very first “Brady Bunch” or whatever. Maybe that’s how I get my frame of reference in life. Or maybe it was an early indicator that I’d grow up to be an obsessive nerd.

Anyway, today’s the anniversary of the day in 1992 that I landed in San Francisco. Eight years. Jeez. It doesn’t seem like that long. And it definitely DOES seem like that long. Understand?

Suitably enough, after I crossed the Bay Bridge into the city, my first stop was at Safeway, the one on Market Street, where I called my friends and warned them I was coming. I was nervous. I was also anxious to converse with an actual friend in person after having just driven across the country alone. I calmed down later that night, with significant assistance from Henry Weinhardt. I went to work two days later, moved into this apartment a month later, and all of a sudden, I realized that I lived here.

This week in Planet SOMA history:

  • 11 October 1980: I got my first blowjob in an adult bookstore at the tender age of 16. Being a precocious sort, I also got fucked for the first time. I didn’t much care for it.
  • 4 October 1982: I was breaking up with my first college boyfriend.
  • 3 October 1983: Danny Elfman rode in the front seat of my car.
  • 1 October 1996: Feelin’ Minnesota.
  • 5 October 1997: Gallup, New Mexico, as I completed the Planet SOMA US Tour 1997.

Quotes du Jour:

  • “Very few animated cartoons are broadcast live; it’s a terrible strain on the animator’s wrists.” (Simpsons)
  • “More people would have babies if they came with free garlic bread.” (3rd Rock from the Sun)
  • “What’s the use of being a writer if you can’t irritate a great many people.” (Norman Mailer)

Redesign

For your perusal, I’m testing a new page design in this section. If I continue liking it, I’ll probably get all the bugs out and use it site-wide. Opinions? Yes, I’ll probably get rid the rollovers; I’m just testing…

Why Come to San Francisco?

I was trying to answer email from yet another person wanting advice on moving to San Francisco tonight. I tried to come up with a few positives to balance all the negatives. It was damned difficult.

The rents are ridiculous; there is no one-bedroom apartment on this planet worth two grand a month. The proportion of creative and interesting people to workaholic corporate drones is becoming dangerously low. The music scene is moving to Modesto, the small movie houses are closing, and the bars on Folsom have become a dismal shade of boring I never could have imagined.

There are long lines everywhere. There’s no parking anywhere. A collection of commercial radio stations (which wasn’t great but was still among the best in the country) has become a mushy corporate stew. We have room for 60 Starbucks, 9 Kinko’s, hundreds of live/work lofts, and a Walgreen’s and a Rite-Aid on every corner, but we can’t find a place for bands to rehearse or for people without stock options to live.

The city is becoming older and less lively. Or at least it seems older, because the only younger people moving here are working 70-hour weeks and are rarely seen in public doing anything more exciting or social than talking on cell phones or mowing down pedestrians on their stupid scooters.

And despite all the posturing in this year’s election, I seriously doubt there’s much that can be done about it. And even if there were a solution, I doubt it could be implemented (or not soon enough, at any rate). I’ve never felt quite so fatalistic about San Francisco’s future.

Any realistic ideas? I’m fresh out, and I’m starting not to care anymore.

The Joys of Being Single

There are many reasons why I’m glad to be single. A big one is the fact that if I’m single, I couldn’t do what I did yesterday. Not that I did anything all that interesting, of course. I left the house about 10 AM for a very long drive, which included Stockton, Jackson, Auburn, and Grass Valley to give you an idea just how long. I put a couple of things in a bag in case I decided to spend the night someplace. I ended up getting home about twelve hours later.

If I had a live-in lover, perish the thought, it just wouldn’t have worked that way. To start with, he might have wanted to come along, which would have eliminated at least half the fun. There would have been planning and compromises (“Are you ready to eat lunch?”) and I probably wouldn’t have covered as much ground.

If he’d decided not to come along, there would have been a different set of issues. I would probably have felt it necessary to state where I was going (I didn’t know) and a rough estimate of when I might return (I didn’t care). There might have been problems with the possibility of spontaneously spending the night.

I probably would have ended up staying home and watching movies or something.

Yes, I know that there are benefits to HAVING relationships too, perhaps the biggest being that there’s someone there when you DO want another person around. But right now, I’m too self-centered and too in love with my independence to make the tradeoff. Especially when traveling, which I just about always do alone.

On the other hand, it might be nice to get laid on a regular basis…

Randomly Friday

Random babbling on a Friday morning:

  • To the cute guy who kept glancing at me at Wendy’s on Pine Street yesterday: please contact me and tell me if you were interested in doing the nasty or just thought I was some kind of freak. Thanks. By the way, your jeans fit quite nicely…

Other random thoughts for a Friday morning:

  • They tore down the giant neon Canadian Club sign by the freeway a few blocks from my house. I didn’t hear a word about it until I read it had already been done in Scott Ostler’s column. San Francisco is now one step close to becoming Walnut Creek. I imagine the 17 Reasons sign on Mission Street is next.
  • Someone appears to have torched another live/work project under construction South of Market. Note to idiot: there are better ways to express your opposition. It doesn’t do much good to “save the neighborhood” if, in tyhe process, you risk burning out the very people you’re trying to save.
  • Thanks to Becky for this article on the virues on livermush (which is NOT the same as liver pudding, even though I do come from east of the Yadkin River)
  • A new selection in the “give me a fucking break” department.
  • Cry me a river. Goodbye, Julie London.
  • A site after my own heart.

It’s back to the Poseidon Adventure on AMC for me now. I may hop over to Boardboys too, where chapter three of my first published porn story premieres today. But I already know how both of them end, so I might just go for a walk instead…