Yes, I’ve also had the occasional idiot ask me why, among all my books, there weren’t more “gay ones”. I usually tell them that I’m not terribly interested in WHO my books sleep with…
This is completely unrelated and quite wonderful…
So I get a little annoyed at all theose cute little movies which suggest that falling in love somehow solves every little problem in one’s life. Anytime I’ve approached anything in the neighborhood of love, it’s tended to AMPLIFY most of my problems. But then again, I probably wasn’t doing it right. And danged if that wasn’t the understatement of the year…
Unrelated annoyance: TV newscasters with an astonishing lack of familiarity about the areas they serve. One of many examples: on tonight’s KGO news, the Fresno Bee was described as a “Sacramento-area newspaper”. I imagine the people of Fresno (a city of 400,000 people in a metropolitan area of many more) will be a little disturbed to learn that they’re living in a suburb of Sacramento, which 180 miles away. Incidentally, that’s about the same distance as San Francisco, where KGO is located. Maybe by 11:00, the Bee will have become a Bay Area newspaper…
Birthday greetings to Shane. He lives in Kansas City, which may soon be recognized by KGO as an integral part of the greater St. Louis area…
I did something last night that I haven’t done in almost three months. I’m not going to say what, but it sure was fun. And even better, it’s a doctor-recommended therapy…
And no, it wasn’t laundry, although I did that yesterday too. It’s only been two months on that one…
One of the rudest tendencies here in the “tolerant” Bay Area is that so many people here feel the need to wander up to complete strangers in public places and tell them exactly how environmentally, socially, or metaphysically incorrect their current set of actions are.
It’s not just in Berkeley…
I’ve had the occasional stranger wander upto me and inform me, for example, that smoking is unhealthy and dangerous. After being flabbergasted by the presumptuousness of the first two or three pompous asses, I started responding with something along the lines of “so is walking upto complete strangers on the street and offering unsolicited criticism when you don’t know how violently they might react.”
It’s amazing how well that usually works…
What’s with this assumption that gentle, intellectual prodding will somehow make the cretins of the world suddenly realize the error of their ways and rush to mend all adjacent fences? Why must the granola crowd be so fucking wimpy and schoolmarmish? They leave me embarrassed to be a leftist. Why not call an asshole an asshole?
Here’s a hint: gentle reminders about the environment and consideration for others are not going to matter much to that yuppie swine who used three spaces to park his urban assault vehicle. However, a note containing a forceful reminder about how accessible and fragile his windshield are just might.
And a reminder: telling the woman who scolds you for looking in the meat case at Safeway to “shut the fuck up and mind your own business” is going to get rid of her much faster than some long-winded explanation of how you need extra protein in your diet, blah blah blah…
We need fewer people quoting sociology dissertations and more people using terms like these:
- Brain-dead frat boy (each should be capitalized if you’re discussing the President).
- Self-righteous bitch (replace “bitch” with “prick” as needed).
- Fucking idiot (wonderful all-purpose terminology).
Yes, I’m suggesting that rudeness be used to combat rudeness in some cases. Most people who are being assholes are quite aware that they’re doing so and won’t react to any other response. And those who don’t know they’re being assholes should be made aware of the fact, not made to feel that they’ve “won” because you were compelled to “defend” yourself.
Don’t get in a fight, of course, but also don’t assume that a response like “please stop damaging my self-esteem” or “perhaps you should be more sensitive to my needs” is going to gain you much ground outside the ever-flaky Bay Area.
Yes, I realize that I might well be much happier in New York, where people mind their own business. I’ve never reacted well to scolding…
Random reflections and realizations upon hitting age 37:
- There is absolutely nothing exciting about being 37.
- The day convenience stores started selling lottery tickets was the day they ceased to be anything resembling convenient.
- When my mom told me as a child that I’d eventually regret it if I started smoking, she was right.
- The more commercials annoy me, the more I watch PBS, which is probably a good thing.
- At some point in the last year, a good parking space assumed a higher priority in my life than sex.
- A little cubed steak can be a wonderful thing.
- Most of my friends are considerably more tolerant and accommodating of me than I have any right to expect them to be. More attentive too.
- I’m glad I don’t really drink anymore, because if I did, I might get really plastered tonight, and I’d surely regret it tomorrow.
Depressed. Anxious. Indecisive. Dissatisfied. Unmotivated. Lacking confidence. And unable (or unwilling) to discuss any of it, even with my friends, much less with the world at large. So I haven’t been communicating much with anyone. My apologies. I’ll try to be more interesting next week when I’m older and presumably wiser…
Since a few people have asked, yeah, my birthday is coming up in eight days. I’ve pretty much decided to ignore it this year.
I may have dinner with a few friends, if they’re agreeable, or I may even leave town for some unspecified destination, but I probably won’t be hosting the semi-public gathering this year unless there’s some tremendous outcry from people who have had their calendars marked for a year. I don’t really imagine that will be an issue.
I’m just not in the frame of mind to be a good host right now. Which is not to say that I’m not feeling better. I’ve actually felt considerably more human the past few days. All the same, it’s been a crappy couple of months and I haven’t really arrived back at “sociable” yet.
Yes, it could be argued that I never arrived at “sociable” to begin with.
It’s making me a little less sad that BayTV is disappearing forever at midnight tonight. The final two shows were repeats of 90-minute specials featuring Molly Ivins and Fran Liebowitz. It’s about as close to heaven as you can get on a Tuesday night.
But at midnight, there’s no more BayTV. Only The Food Network, with its endless repeats of “1001 Uses for Polenta” or whatever. All the same, maybe replacing a news and information channel with one about trendy food is uniquely appropriate in the Bay Area, where style increasingly trumps substance.
Or maybe our antiquated cable system, with its limited channel capacity just sucks. If so, it demonstrates once again AT&T’s commitment to mediocrity across all its operations. Consistency is always comforting.
I’m coming precariously close to babbling now. It’s the medication. Trust me.
One of those mildly disorienting Sundays, where suddenly it’s 5:30 in the afternoon and I realize I’ve been up for about nine hours and have not once left the house. When I do, I’m puzzled by the presence of too many lukewarm leatherettes walking around the ‘hood. Then it hits me that it’s Dore Alley Fair day…
Instead of going for a walk, I decide to scurry off to the suburbs in search of cheap cookies and lactose-free milk, hoping they’ll all be gone when I get back. Or at least that it’ll be dark out…
I’ve been pondering Charlotte and Charlotte history all weekend. I’m not sure why. I’m never quite sure why I’m so drawn to the place. The three years I lived there were among the most darkest of my life, and it’s one of the most stuffy, Baptist, Republican places I’ve ever lived. But for some reason, I’ve just about always believed I’d live there again someday…
Maybe it’s the fried squash at Gus’ Sir Beef…