2006.10.01

Among the interesting things I’ve found in the many boxes of stuff I’ve liberated from my parents’ storage building:

Several of the long-lost journal entries of 1988 and 1989, covering my decision to go back to school and some of my seemier “Farewell to Charlotte” escapades. I’ll post some of them here if they turn out to be interesting.
A toy supermarket I had as a child and had almost forgotten.
Credit card receipts from my trip to New York and Boston in 1988.
My exciting seventh-grade report entitled “The Hummingbird”.
A whole shitload of letters to various people that I wrote but never mailed.
Band flyers, band flyers, and more band flyers.
The very strange object you see pictured above. I’m not entirely sure what it is. Or was. I’m thinking pre-Columbian art, but I could be mistaken.

Pictures and text from two recent visits from friends yet to come…

Hell in the Desert

This is the funniest description of hell that I’ve read in weeks.

Granted, I’ve never been to Burning Man. I’ve also never been chewed up by a crocodile nor lived in a refrigerator box on Harrison Street, but I somehow instinctively know these things wouldn’t be my cup of tea, even though others might find them to be life-affirming growth experiences or important exercises in community-building.

Ditto for Burning Man, which seems to be pretty much nothing but “the San Francisco scene” relocated to some godforsaken desert in Nevada, featuring the same tired old cast of very conformist non-conformists, assorted art poseurs and hippie wannabes, and — most notably — thousands of middle-class white folks who want to be perceived as art poseurs and hippie wannabes.

The only difference seems to be that this collection of humanity manages to smell even worse at Burning Man than at home in San Francisco. Which is, I’ll grant you, a rather significant accomplishment.

Preservation, My Ass

Far be it from me to rain on San Francisco’s parade, but — with the exception of this one — almost every story (and video) I’ve seen about this week’s opening of new mall on Market Street suggests that it was some sort of historic preservation triumph that saved the old Emporium store.

It just ain’t true.

Despite all the grand pronouncements from city leaders about how great it is to be standing in the middle of it, there is no Emporium store left. It was torn down in 2004. The only things that remain from the building are the Market Street facade and the interior dome, and even the dome has been relocated. No other walls were spared, nor was anything else other than these two architectural features.

It’s nice that SF has its spiffy new mall, because heaven knows San Francisco needs nothing quite so much as it needs another mall. It’s lovely they integrated these features into the new building they built. But the old Emporium building is not there anymore. It’s just plain silly to pretend that it is. I won’t make an argument about whether that’s good or bad, but can someone please at least acknowlege that it’s a fact?

Winston-Salem NC, 4:30 AM

The last time I found myself driving through Winston-Salem at 4:30AM was about fifteen years ago. A friend and I had hooked up with these two guys at The Edge in Greensboro (before they tore it down to build a Kinko’s) and we’d driven the 25 miles to their apartment in Winston for the ensuing cheap thrills. I probably wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been a little inebriated; they were relatively cute, I guess, but definitely not worth quite so much effort.

Today, it was different. Rather than being very late at night, 4:30AM was now very early in the morning. I was driving Mark to the airport so he could fly back to San Francisco for another two weeks in Purgatory. It was harder than usual to let him go this time, maybe because he was home longer than usual and I got more used to it. And maybe it was because I’ve had a fair amount on my mind the past few days.

Since I ventured out so early, I was able to have a Charlotte Observer and Greensboro News and Record in my hands before my local paper was delivered.

It’s interesting that, even though the airport here is twenty miles away and is actually in a whole different county, it takes about the same amount of time to drive there as it used to take us to get to the one in Charlotte when we lived there. Come to think of it, it also took about the same amount of time to get to the San Francisco airport, depending on traffic. This could be a pattern in my life, but it probably isn’t.

I also noticed today that the McDonald’s locations in Winston-Salem open earlier than the ones in Charlotte. The Target and Lowes stores stay open later here too, but I already knew that.

Once I’m up in the morning, I’m pretty much up for the day. That’s not to say I didn’t make a valiant effort to try to go back to sleep when I got home. My mind was occupied by a lot of things I have to do over the next few days, but I did manage to nod off for a few minutes while it was still dark out.

Ideal Personal Ad

Five years ago today, I posted an updated version of my Ideal Personal Ad. For some reason, it worked a lot better this time than it ever had before. Despite the fact that I received only one application, it was received in timely fashion, it was very neatly typed, and it came from someone who was not only qualified, but was quite clearly the best man for the job.

The funny thing, though, is that I don’t believe either of us had any idea at the time what the actual job was. Either way, I’m glad he got it.