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…

I hardly ever drink anymore and I’m glad. I was never really what you’d call an alcoholic anyway, but I used to drink a lot and there were times when it was a bit problematic. So maybe “drinking problem” would have been the correct term.

The first time was on New Years Even 1979-80. There were disastrous results. All of 1980 was a little disastrous now that I think about it. I didn’t drink much after that until I started going to queer bars at 19.

When I was in my twenties, it was not unusual for me to drink a 12-pack over the course of a evening and then drive home from wherever I happened to be. I’d have beers before going out, beers while I was out, and more when I got home. At last call, the normal procedure was to get two or three beers to last through that “generous” half-hour North Carolina bars give you to finish up.

Sometimes my friends and I would drive an hour and a half to Raleigh or Charlotte, drinking all the way in the car. We’d hit two or three bars and then drive home, maybe even having one or two more in the car on the way back. We never much thought anything about it. One night, a friend and I even drove to Myrtle Beach (a good 200 miles away) after last call, spent the day there, went out drinking that night, and drove home afterward for a grand total of 48 hours awake. It’s a miracle I made it to 30 alive and without a DUI.

It just seemed natural in those days to start drinking at 10 and continue as late as possible. I couldn’t imagine a party or a night out without lots of beer. I drank a lot at home too. I’d get drunk to make a tape or just get drunk to get drunk. Then I’d wake up the next morning and go to work, albeit with a bit of a headache.

Even into my thirties I could still pull a pretty serious drunk now and then, although living two blocks from my favorite bars at least kept me out of the car. There were the occasional weekends when my roomie and I would stay up all night and hit the Watering Hole or the End-up at 6AM. I spent many other weekends walking around drunk and in circles at sex clubs until I finally got bored with that.

The one day a year or two back, I realized I don’t drink much anymore. I haven’t really drunk at home in several years, and I can’t manage more than a couple of beers on my rare nights out either, unless I’m prepared to feel like I’m going to die the next morning. The thought of drinking and driving terrifies me.

In a way, I sort of miss it sometimes. But then I get my senses back, see how much weight I’ve lost and how much less stupid I act, and I get over it…

Just like Keith at crusingforsex.com and miscellaneous San Franciscans, I’m not going to the Millennium March either. Didn’t even occur to me to go. To be honest, I really wasn’t even all that aware of its details before reading these articles by other people who weren’t going either.

Why not? Hmmm. Glad you asked.

First, of course, would be the fact that I don’t see a tremendous lot of point to it. The point of such marches is to increase visibility by stating rather smugly that “there are 300,000 of us here so you’d better notice us, dammit.” But visibility is not the problem; most Americans are quite aware than queers exist in significant numbers. Most of them don’t really give a damn, and another march isn’t going to do a single thing to change this fact.

Attitudes are changed by one-on-one interaction, and legal status is changed by legislation or litigation. About the only thing that marches (and parades, etc.) do is annoy the people who can’t get across town because of them.

Then, of course, there’s the mixed agenda. To heterosexuals, it’s “we’re just like you, so please give us the freedom to marry and kill people in the military”. To ourselves, it’s “we’re different and special and should have pride”. So which is it? To me, it’s neither. I am not just like everyone else (who is?), but the fact that I suck dick does not make me particularly different from anyone else either. And pride should be the result of accomplishment; I just did what came naturally…

The “just like you” path to equal rights has always left me cold. To those who say there are issues other than sex involved, I would answer that sex is the only characteristic queers all share, and it’s the single reason queers face discrimination. Therefore, sex is absolutely the ONLY issue involved.

People have a right to choose whatever sexuality or relationship type they want. The gay movement is currently obsessed with fighting for equality by saying “I agree to copulate by your standards you in exchange for civil rights”. It should instead be demanding that “you must not discriminate against me based on the way I copulate”. I’m more inclined to fight for the freedom NOT to marry and still to be regarded as a complete human being.

Of course I support anti-discrimination legislation, and yes, I even support legal same-sex marriage. What I don’t support is this warm fuzzy visibility tactic which may have had some validity twenty years ago but no longer does. I think the time and money might be better spent on other things, a few strategically placed anti-discrimination lawsuits being at the top of the list.

And while we’re at it, let’s not forget the Equal Rights Amendment…