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Digital Reminiscing

Vague nostalgia this afternoon. After reading the nice things Becky said about me on her new site, I started thinking back to who inspired me as I was getting started with Planet SOMA back in the dark ages of the mid 1990s.

Unfortunately, a lot of the sites I was looking at back in 1995 and 1996 no longer exist, with the notable exception of Justin’s Links from the Underground, which could easily be called the grandfather of the personal web site. I guess it’s been a primary inspiration over the years, even though I rarely stop by anymore.

The personal sites I look at regularly these days would include these:

I don’t get around much these days. Life is about spending less time in front of the computer, not more time…

Neither do I spend as much time on email. I was moving all my archived mail from ZIP disks to my hard drive today and I looked at some of the older stuff. I realized that:

  • I used to engage in serious ongoing correspondence (daily even) with people I’d never met. I don’t do nearly as much of this now.
  • I used to have email relationships with a few people which were considerably more flirtatious than I remember.
  • There are a lot fewer people using AOL than there used to be. Or at least a lot fewer of them are contacting me.

I’ve reached the bottom of the page and I’m hungry, so I’ll stop short of tying this all together into ny sort of coherent thought or theme.

Be forewarned that this picture has absolutely nothing to do with anything else on today’s front page…

Well, some days it’s just fun coming home and reading the email. Today’s collection brought an offer to write essays for an actual printed magazine (for money even) and an interview for an upcoming article in the Portland Oregonian. I think this is my first actual legitimate newspaper interview. My importance to the article will be minimal; I’ll be coy and say that the subject invoved bottles…

So all in all, I’m feeling pretty happy with today. My ego has been stroked. And I’m still happy about how nicely several other parts of my body were stroked Sunday at the corner sex bar. Note to cute spiky-haired boy: spitting is not really any more or less “safe” than swallowing. And watch those teeth, dammit…

Sorry. I was just practicing for the essay gig; it’s supposed to be vaguely sex-related, and since I don’t really write about sex much lately (as there hasn’t been much sex to write ABOUT lately), I’m a little out of practice…

The length of that last sentence might have cost me the job anyhow…

The Rest of the Weekend

Took Duncan to the airport this morning, hit the supermarket, and then experienced SF Gay Pride firsthand as I tried to find a parking space in the same zip code as my house. I repeat my call for the parade to be shifted back to its old route (ending in the Finacial District rather than Civic Center, which is way too close to home).

Now, groceries stowed (if a little wilted after driving around in circles), I’m munching on a chocolate doughnut from Alberston’s and watching Fatal Vision on A&E. I’m Proud™ to be home, Proud™ not to be wearing an ugly white tank top and rainbow beads, and VERY Proud™ not be sweating or sunburned.

I may vacuum later, once again using the Glade Carpet Neutralizer which means I can’t smell the embedded cigarette smoke, even though everyone else probably still can.

Duncan’s visit was fun. In addition to Santa Monica, we made some nice long drives to nowhere (a patented Planet SOMA activity) and ate well. I finally saw the second series of Tales of the City and we hit the corner saloon briefly on Thursday night. A couple of nice men fondled me while Duncan waited patiently at the bar. And we had dinner with Dan and Jamie on Friday night.

 

It’s very much whetted my appetite for some more time in LA. Details to come. For now I’m Proud™ that I have plenty of toilet paper so I don’t have to leave the house again today…

Quick LA Trip


Photo by Duncan…

I’ve been to Southern California again and lived to tell about it.

Actually, I like LA, although I stop just shy of loving it. Even acknowledging its existence, of course, is not something most San Franciscans like to do. Contrary to our long-held assumptions, LA is considerably more important on a national (and worldwide) scale and it DOES have culture. I’ve always known this.

I’m even going back in a few weeks for a longer trip. This was a quick trip and was pretty consumed by hanging out with the stars of The WB and chatting up some cute boy from Syracuse at their glamorous party in Santa Monica. We did, however, make it to the world’s oldest standing Bob’s Big Boy in Toluca Lake, and I saw the water tower where the Animaniacs live. LA may be the greatest place in the world for those long, pointless drives I love so. Had a great time, all in all.

Duncan’s still visiting and I’m not in the mood to type, so I’ll hand over the front page to him now:

“Greetings to Planet SOMA and its readers… How y’all doin’?”

Duncan adds that he doesn’t really sound like that when he talks. More soon…

To Santa Monica

Off to Santa Monica. I did not catch up on email. I have not packed. I still have some work to do. I don’t care. I’m leaving. Apologies to anyone affected by any of the above. See you in a few days…

San Francisco Sanity Breaks

Had dinner at a place called The Dead Fish in Crockett Friday night with Dan and Jamie. It was a good place, but not the dive that the name and building suggested. We were all suckered in. Thinking it had been there for ages, we asked the waitress when the place opened. “November 23,” she replied.

Oh well. They had great scallops anyway.

Afterwards we drove through downtown Crockett and Port Costa. Great un-yuppified river towns, both of them. Not a Starbuck’s nor a smoothie shop in sight. Only a half hour out of San Francisco and you can completely forget you’re in the Bay Area. Which is often a very good thing.

I have a few friends here who are proud to say they never leave San Francisco except maybe on vacation. I don’t understand. Getting out of the city occasionally is almost essential for maintaining sanity. And I say this as someone who doesn’t much care for the country.

I leave San Francisco at least once (and usually two or three times) every weekend, to enjoy things like pizza in Hayward, thrift store runs in Redwood City, bookstores in Santa Rosa, doughnuts in Union City, and the sheer magic of driving through just about any part of Oakland. Half the fun of living in the Bay Area is that there is so very much intersting stuff surrounding it.

A car helps, but it’s not essential. Take BART to Berkeley. Grab a CalTrain to Gilroy or a ferry to Vallejo. There’s a whole interesting world out there despite our snobbish dismissals of “the ‘burbs”. It might do many San Franciscans a world of good to realize this fact and experience the rest of the planet (or at least the rest of the Bay Area) once in a while.

Pride 2000

I’d like to announce the first annual San Francisco Brunette Chestnut Auburn Dirty Blond and Multi-hued Pride Festival. Members of the BCADBMH community from around the country will be participating to celebrate our pride in our pigmentation and our glorious brunette culture.

Several brunette bands (chosen for their hair color rather than their talent, of course) will be playing at the center stage. You can buy “I’m not a brunette but my boyfriend is” T-shirts along with miniature brunette pride flags just across the street in the Marketplace.

We expect a turnout of several thousand of our BCADBMH brothers and sisters, not to mention a few hundred supportive blondes and redheads. We anticipate a few protestors from the Ex-Brunette Ministries armed with Clairol, peroxide, and the like, but our security forces will keep them at bay.

The festival aims to be inclusive. There will be marchers from many individuals and groups who define themselves solely in terms of their hair color. Participants will include groups such as the PBBEG (Pacific Bell Brunette Employees Guild, PFAB (Parents and Friends of All Brunettes), QOHC (Questioning Our Hair Color) and the LGHBL (League of Gray-haired Brunette Lovers). Floats from several of San Francisco’s BCADBMH bars and nightclubs will also be featured.

So come on out. Celebrate your hair color and the fabulous music, art, and fashion which naturally spring from this inborn characterisitc. Show your stuff: hats are allowed, but not encouraged.

The festival is sponsored by Acronym Power, Inc.

Fog’s Back

Cool, gray, and foggy again, like it’s supposed to be in San Francisco in June. Life is good…

Scenes from Hell

Scenes from hell:

  • It was as hot today in San Francisco as it’s ever been, at least since they started keeping records in 1871. That’s a milestone I could have missed, thanks.
  • Today’s high was 103. The normal high for today is 71.
  • The power went out just as I was typing this entry before. I imagine it’s because I turned on the TV, giving the whole west coast power grid that last push it needed before collapsing.
  • I was scared to turn on the microwave earlier for the same reason, but I did it anyway when I considered the implications of turning on the stove.
  • It 11:30 at night, it’s almost 90 in my living room and I’m sweating as I type. And I don’t type very fast either.
  • Any of the seven San Franciscans with air conditioning could easily have his way with me tonight.
  • I skipped dinner with Dan and Jamie tonight rather than risk being on a crowded bus or (God forbid) walking to the Mission.
  • Instead, my neighbor and I hung out at the deli case at Safeway. It was nice.
  • It’s ironic that my trip to LA next week may actually expose me to better weather than we’re having here.

On that LA subject, thanks for all the tips, dinner invites, etc. Next week’s trip will actually be a bit of a quickie, so I’m not sure how much time I’ll have. The “official” Planet SOMA LA Road Trip will be later this summer. I may even make it to San Diego, although I must admit I’d be doing so only to visit a few friends there and not because of any particular affection for the place.

More to come. I’m going to bed now. I harbor no illusions that I’ll actually sleep…

Radomly Tuesday

I have to say this. I don’t believe that Steve Young’s retirement from the San Francisco 49ers is really so newsworthy as to merit consuming a good third of the 6:00 News yesterday. He’s a football player, for God’s sake, which makes him essentially nothing but an overpaid entertainment personality.

They didn’t give Joe DiMaggio that much airtime when he DIED, and he was even multi-talented. I challenge you to compare his Mr. Coffee commercials to Steve Young’s half-assed Toyota spots any day of the week…

More non-news: Sinead O’Connor is officialy a lesbian. I imagine she’ll stay true to her track record and approach this development just as annoyingly and self-righteously as she does everything else. Molly Ivins’ quips do more for progressive politics in any given single day than Sinead’s tortured whining will do in her whole lifetime. Why, pray tell, do so many of my fellow leftists feel that having any discernible sense of humor somehow detracts from their message?

Enough of this. I’m now being excited that, a week from today, my pal Duncan and I will be tooling down Highway 101 to Santa Monica to stay in a spiffy, expensive hotel by the beach. We’ll be doing other things too (I, for example, plan to be seducing several of The WB’s male stars), but the hotel is what I have a link to right now…

We may hit Fresno on the way back, but I’m not sure, as I’ve already done my laundry for this month. And if you don’t know what the two have to do with each other, you haven’t been reading long enough…

Besides, Fresno can’t be much hotter than San Francisco feels today. Second ugly heatwave so far this year. I am not enjoying this summer…