After nearly eight years in San Francisco, there is but one restaurant where (a) I’m always happy with my meal and (b) the owner regularly stops at my table offering me free dessert. That would be Tad’s. I even had my birthday there last year. The charms are nearly unending as several persons I’ve initiated say.

Impromptu dinner with Dan (guess where?) followed by a Thursday night out. I hate it when I’m in the sex bar and the guy I really like shoots his load and leaves, abandoning to me the other guy. The other guy is someone to whom I’m strongly attracted in a fetishistic way but who screams “trouble”. And said fetish will remain unnamed for now, thank you.

One of the benefits of not drinking much is that you can avoid trouble before it passes out in your bed. One of the benefits of having wonderfully bitter friends is that they can gain some amusement watching you decide if the fetish is worth the trouble. Ultimately, of course, I decided it wasn’t, which is why I’m writing rather than fucking right now.

So now I’m going to sleep. Lunch with Sarah tomorrow followed by my traditional Friday night dinner with Dan and Jamie. As it seems I’ve now started seeking sex again (albeit a tad more cautiously), you may even see me out tomorrow night. But I make no promises.

Those last few paragraphs made little if any sense, I fear. I think I should sleep now, secure in the knowledge that the I Love You virus will not affect my Mac in any way…

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…