Personal

I got the phone call I’ve been dreading for weeks today, confirming that one of my oldest friends died on 22 March in his San Diego apartment. I’d been afraid this had happened ever since I couldn’t reach him prior to my trip last month.

Stan and I met in 1982 when we both worked together at the college radio station. He fancied himself as sort of a queer “mother figure” for me, trying to teach me things I already knew, like how to pick up boys and find the “hidden” gay content in every pop cultural phenomenon of the day.

Stan moved to San Diego in 1986 and never looked back. I made my first visit in 1991, as part of the trip where I decided to move to San Francisco, and I’m sad to say, I made only two or three more visits after moving west. But he came here once a year or so, using my apartment as a home base for his various solitary adventures throughout the city. And we usually talked on the phone once a month or so.

Stan and I had very little in common other than our common background in the south and the sheer longevity of our friendship. But we stayed friends no matter how much our lives (and geography) changed. We always managed to find something to talk about.

He was an odd sort, with very few close friends and confidantes, and he loved his privacy, which might explain why it was so difficult for his supervisor at work to contact anyone close to him. It was this supervisor who eventually called me, after I started making inquiries at the Department of Parks and Recreation.

It’s very unnerving to have a stranger (albeit a nice one) inform you of the death of someone you’ve known for almost twenty years.

For the record, diabetes was the culprit, along (I believe) with the strain of a very stressful year, on which I will not elaborate. He was found in his apartment when he didn’t return to work after a week’s leave to “recover”. There was a memorial service, his ashes were scattered over the Pacific, and there will be a tree and a plaque installed in his memory at the recreation center where he worked.

I’ll miss him.

Don’t really give a shit about football? Yeah, neither do I. But I DO love Super Bowl Sunday. It’s such a calm, quiet day. No one’s out roaming about. In a severely overcrowded place (by American standards) like San Francisco, a day like today is a special treat.

The best part: when I woke up early this morning, it was pouring down rain. A dark, rainy Sunday with no pressing commitments is a truly wonderful thing. At least until the sun comes out.

Or until you go the grocery store.

I hate Albertson’s. Again. Still. In my last four visits, I’ve been overcharged three times on sale items. Specifically, they charge me for both of their much-promoted “buy one get one free” specials. The first two times, I didn’t catch it until I got home. The third time, I didn’t buy anything on sale anyway. But by today, I checked my receipt at the register and realized I’d been screwed again.

I could see this happening once, but on three out of four visits, scattered over a month? It never happens to me at Safeway or at Raley’s (or Harris-Teeter or Kroger). Frankly, it ain’t a very good way for a company to make a good name for itself in a new market. I want Lucky back.

More things I hate today:

• Yet another increase in the price of cigarettes.
• The laundromat.
• The sun finally came out.
• Bad news via e-mail about my uncle who’s in the hospital.

On the plus side, things that I love:

• My growing family of houseplants (now at 9).
• The “Pop-up Video” version of “Leif Garrett: Behind the Music”
• A good night’s sleep.

All in all, though, life is good. I actually rested this weekend. I needed it. And I feel better than I have in a month. I’ve made a few decisions about the evil part-time job as well, but you’ll just have to wait.

Now, if I could just quit smoking…

Busy weekend. In addition to lots of work, I had two unrelated visitors from DC, both of whom are in the process of moving here, despite all my admonitions to the contrary.

People just won’t listen.

Did lots of work on Friday, while cursing my lack of font management and miscellaneous other system traumas, the result of moving old shit to a new computer. I’m more or less past profanity now, at least.

Got out of the house for a while on Saturday, and then picked up Matthew (DC visitor #1) at the airport. Went out to the neighborhood saloons. Was not much amused. Slept.

And damn, did it rain today. So after cooking breakfast (eggs, sausage, tomatoes, grits, toast , and fruit, for those of you keeping score) and helping Matthew find his temporary abode, I didn’t leave the house the rest of the day. I threw a corned beef brisket into the oven and started to work.

Jim (DC visitor #2) visited for a while to fondle my new Mac. Dan stopped by to help me eat the corned beef (along with kraut, mustard horseradish, salad, and ice cream, for those of you STILL keeping score).

And then we watched The Simpsons. It was painful. All good things must come to an end, and this one definitely has.

Ever watch any of those crappy made for TV Warner Bros. cartoons from the 1960s, where (for example), Speedy Gonzales, Daffy Duck, and Petunia Pig might all be teamed up for no apparent reason? The ones produced long after all the talent was gone from Warner Bros.? The Simpsons gives this same feeling lately. No life, no characterization, too many in jokes and trivia references and not much else. The whole show seems like a lame attempt to set up a few sight gags which aren’t particularly funny anyway.

It’s sad. I’d suggest a dignified euthanasia might be in order, but Fox probably wouldn’t agree given their current lack of hits (or direction).

Anyway, I worked even more afterward, and still didn’t finish everything I needed to, and now I’m going to bed. So there.

So I know there’s someone at Adobe Systems who reads Planet SOMA with some regularity. I can tell from my stats. Well, dear friend, the time has come for you to reveal yourself. Why? Because I’d like to get to know you better. To talk. To hang out. Maybe even to share a bowl of grits. And because I’m in desperate need of ATM Deluxe 4.5.2 (for Mac, as if there were any question) and I have absolutely no intention of shelling out 65 bucks.

How much do i love my new G4? Everything’s so much faster. Web browsing is fun again. I can use actual new versions of programs like Photoshop and Flash, although I promise to spare you any trace of animations or roll-over buttons, the latter because I still hate them with all my might.

The only problems so far have been my lack of font mangement and one unpleasant software conflict. Note to all who might consider it: do NOT install ATM Deluxe 4 on top of Mac OS9. Just don’t. Trust me on this one. And, of course, the new Mac keyboards and mice just plain suck, but that will be fixed soon (after shelling out another hundred bucks or so, alas). Oh, and did I mention that new Macs finally use actual normal VGA monitors? This is great unless you happen to have an old Mac monitor from the days of “we don’t need your stinkin’ standards”. Thanks to Dan for help with this mini-crisis.

All in all, though, I’m pretty damned happy. I keep dancing around the empty boxes chanting “I have a new computer. La la la la la la.”

The machine formerly known as “my computer”…

And what of my old machine? She’s still plugged in, although not on my desk anymore. There are lots more files to be moved, and she still contains the only video capture card in the house. But soon, I guess she’ll become my “kitchen Mac” relegated to serving up recipes and some occasional cooking music. I’m still sort of attached to her and I can’t imagine anyone would want the damned thing, despite its place in web history. And no, I wasn’t being serious about the”web history” part, dammit. I’m not THAT self-obsessed.

Oh, and I bought a new TV too, but it rather pales in comparison, being a $129 model from Sears and all. The sound is just plain awful, and I’m not exactly a connoisseur to begin with…

I may spend Saturday buying the computer I threatened to buy a few weeks ago. Or I may just sit around the house enjoying the rain which seems finally to be arriving after a disturbingly dry rainy season. I haven’t decided yet. After the past couple of weeks, it will be nice to treat myself to a day of very few pressing commitments.

This evening at dinner, a new addition to the Friday night dinner thing I do with Dan and Jamie made the comment that “San Francisco sucks” and that he was planning to leave after living here considerably longer than I have. No one argued. San Francisco pretty much DOES suck these days. My friend Dave sent me email upon his return from vacation stating that, after more than two decades here, he’s decided that SF is “officially boring”.It seems at least half my friends are planning to leave San Francisco these days, and I think the right push might convice a significant portion of the rest as well. I’m not talking about bored 20-somethings with short attention spans here. I have several friends in their 50’s, people who have been here close to thirty years, who are either moving on or contemplating it.

This is not about dissatisfaction among “flavor of the month” types who’ve lived here a year as part of some Bohemian circuit. These are people who have made a significant emotional and time commitment to the city formerly known as The City. It’s sad.

I think this emotional investment is a large part of why I didn’t just pick up and leave a year ago. Frankly, I’m convinced that being near Oakland is about the only compelling reason to stay in San Francisco.

These voluntary departures combined with the many who have been forced out (and the many new and interesting people who can no longer afford to move here) don’t bode well for the San Francisco of 2010.

South of Market is already lost, of course. Underground culture and nightlife cannot thrive in an upscale residential area; “mixed use” of this variety is nothing but a fantasy. The bars along Folsom Street are already suffering, whether from lack of crowds and new blood or from the lack of energy among what patrons remain.

Most of the youth culture which used to offer regular tranfusions has now shunned recreation in favor of 90-hour work weeks. The remainder of the young’uns can’t afford to be here in the first place. And a large proportion of those of us in that 25-45 range (which used to be the prime Folsom Street demographic) have just plain had it. When I bother to go out at all, I almost never see people I know.

A lot has been written in the local press about gentrification, displacement of the poor, etc. Less has been written about the fact that San Francisco just isn’t any FUN anymore. The suits have changed into khakis and have managed to convince a whole city that pursuing a career instead of a life is not only acceptable, but preferable.

Barring another earthquake or an economic catastrophe, I fear San Francisco in ten years may well be nothing but a city full of career-obsessed drones whose only excitement will come from chance encounters with street people, the only low-income group which will survive this “great economy”.

Of course, I’m exaggerating, but I sure don’t want to be here in 2010 to see by how much. Which is a sad thing, since I used to believe I’d live here the rest of my life.