Leaving town for a couple of days. Don’t expect email to be answered, even if it’s “urgent”…
There is no good time to drive out of the Bay Area on a weekday. This afternoon, well before rush hour, it took me as long to drive the 60 miles from SF to Tracy as it did to drive the 120 miles from Tracy to Fresno. Fortunately, this was (once I left Tracy) to be one of those trips where everything worked out the way it was supposed to, from arriving on the one night the history room at the library was open late to actually enjoying the company of the rather compelling stranger I was coming to meet…
And gas was $1.17/gallon. Did I mention that?
I gambled and won. The history room in the Fresno library just happens to be open late on Thusdays. The only downside was that the pre-1960 city directories are on microfilm. I hate microfilm. Microfilm is evil.
It was actually warmer in SF than in Fresno today. That’s a good sign…
I kept the room today for a home base and potential nap spot (thanks to a coupon from my mom) as I wandered about visiting thrift stores, taking pictures, and looking for ghosts of supermarkets past. There was no nap and there weren’t many pictures, but I was pleased with my day (and the cooler than average temperature) all the same.
It’s a little odd realizing that I’m in a city where the mayor is Bubba, by the way…
Tonight I met Mark at Club Fred. Even that was easy, as I stepped upto the bar to get a drink and he happened to be the guy in line ahead of me. We went to a low-key but pleasant enough Hallowe’en party for a while and then had a nice, big artery-clogging dinner at Denny’s before going back to Mark’s apartment so he could show me his iBook.
Eventually, I went back to the Motel 6, fantasizing that my second night in the same strange bed might result in more sleep than the first had. It didn’t.
Despite lack of sleep, I wasn’t feeling too miserable for breakfast with Mark at the Chicken Pie Shop this morining, something I’d been trying to do since my first visit way back in 1993. And it was indeed everything I’d dreamed it would be. In shades of green.
We walked around the Tower District for a while and I dumped all my stuff and my car at Mark’s. Then we toured Fresno. I’ve toured Fresno many times before, but it was extra fun (a) being in the passenger seat and (b) actually being with someone who lived there and knew exactly where to take me. We covered most of the strips and walked around downtown for while. And we didn’t go to the ninth-floor bar at some hotel whose name I’ve forgotten, because it was closed.
I got a prescription filled, as I cursed both the fact that it was five bucks cheaper at the Walgreens in Fresno and the fact that it causes me certain annoying physiological issues. We were amused (horrified?) by the singing James Brown doll. Then we went back to apartment for a while, before heading back out to the pizza place.
Afterward, we watched the South Park movie (sort of), avoided the Hallowe’en block party down the street, and eventually went to sleep. I actually slept pretty well, if not for quite long enough.
On Sunday morning, we spent a few hours trying to figure out what time it was, among other things. Then we had breakfast at a good Mexican place before driving around and taking even more pictures (many of which will be here at some unspecified point in the future).
Then it was time for me to make my obligatory stops by the cheap cigarette store, the cheap supermarket, and the cheap gas station, and to be on my way. I was home by 7:30 and only flipped off three people (all of them after I crossed I-680). I slept. It was good.
Funny, for my best Fresno visit ever, it doesn’t read very well. But I liked it anyway…
I’m home. All in all, I think it was the best weekend I’ve ever spent in Fresno, but that’s all I’m saying tonight because the sleep deprivation side effects are kicking in. Pictures, commentary and all that sort of thing tomorrow. Perhaps…
You may resume your email now. And I’ll resume answering it at my own pace…
Y’know, it’s touchy meeting someone I really like and talking about it on the website, especially since I’m known for a sort of detached cynicism and the slightest trace of irony. I come off sounding either insincere or unnervingly gooey. Therefore I’m not going to try at all right now. So there…
I got this message too and fear others may have gotten it by having websites I link to. This is, by the way, not an ordinary spammer; he used my email form to send it to me individually. I read him the riot act, and after three rounds of email, he managed to sound out all the words and realize he’d done something sort of stupid…
Note to clueless idiot: the fact that you did a Yahoo search on the term “sex club” does not necessarily indicate that every page found will be owned by a sex club or will even be about sex clubs in any way. Nor will the links found on said page…
Wow. Context. What an interesting and elusive concept…
I would never email someone from a website without actually reading a significant portion of what he or she had to say first. But then again, I don’t have a large sex club building I need to unload quickly…
So there are these people who have been protesting in front of the building where I work part-time. They’re apparently not happy with the property management company which runs the building for hiring a certain contractor. It’s a cute protest; they have a giant inflatable rat to symbolize “rat contractor”.
Their issues are that this contractor has no respect for labor, the community, nor people’s families. Unfortunately, they seem completely unable to tell anyone WHY they feel this way. I took one of their flyers, hoping it might shed some light on the subject and offer some specifics. It didn’t; all it said was pretty much that “they are bad and we don’t like them…waaahhhh…”
Maybe the contractor really is completely and totally evil. I’d never know from their protest and I’d be hard-pressed to care. I guess they’re operating on the assumption that passers-by will naturally be appalled by any hint of labor or human rights violations, whether backed by any specific evidence or not.
In San Francisco, where gullability rules, conspiracy theories are gospel, and critical thinking is too often an afterthought, it’s probably a pretty safe tactic…
Note to my bus driver from this afternoon: a little patchouli goes a REALLY long way…
Unrelated: a friend of mine asked if I was going to the Castro for Halloween tonight. OK, it wasn’t a very close friend, but still. Everyone knows I go out of my way to avoid the Castro even at the most inocuous of times. Why on earth would I go down there on a night when the streets would be full of half a million people, 499,992 of whom would really get on my nerves?