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1 January 2000

It’s 2AM in San Francisco. The world did not end. The lights are on and the cable works. The web did not fail. I’ve sent and receieved email. There were no major riots. For a Friday night, it’s strangely calm and quiet South of Market, even though the bars have just dismissed their New Year’s Eve crowds into the streets.

Apparently, this “millenium bash” was one of the calmest New Year’s Eve celebrations in San Francisco history.

For my part, Dan picked me up at 7:30. We then grabbed Steve and Jamie and took the back rodas to a house near Geary and Masonic for dinner with some friends. We watched the celebration at Times Square. As we talked, we realized we’d all been watching the live coverage of the events worldwide all day. At this point, we gave up on all traces of urban sophistication and pretension (pretense?).

After dinner, we all drove back to Steve’s house on Potrero Hill to bring in the new year and watch the fireworks over the bay. It was all very low-key, we were seven nicely agreeable individuals, and Steve and I (the only two drinkers of the bunch) couldn’t even manage to kill off one bottle of champagne. We did have streamers and balloons (five of which are now in my living room) and cookies and bread and cheese.

We laughed at the sparse turnout for all of San Francisco’s “official” celebrations. I occasionally looked out the window to make sure than South of Market wasn’t on fire. It wasn’t.

In fact as we drove through the remarkably sedate Mission district and onto Folsom Street on the way home, I noticed that the crowds on the street were pretty small even for a normal Friday night. I think people were terrified. Or just tired of all the hype.

All in all, it was a damn fine New Year’s Eve. When I got home, I turned off all the lights I’d left on, emailed my mom to let her know I was still alive and now I’m going to bed.

The traditional collards and black-eyed peas will be served tomorrow afternoon, although Safeway was sold out of fresh greens. All in all, I’d say that this shortage may suggest that there’s hope for the Bay Area after all. Or at least a hell of a lot of Southern transplants.

That said, happy New Year to you all!

Crazy

The pace continues to be crazy down Planet SOMA way, so my apologies for the sparse update schedule of late. I do have some interesting stuff planned for the site’s upcoming fourth anniversary on Thursday.

Coming soon: the excitement of two trips to Salinas in one day, the surprise of hearing from an old friend after a couple of years, and more. Sounds enticing, doesn’t it?

Leaving San Francisco?

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.

New G4

Be excited. This is the first bit of posting done with the spiffy new Mac G4 I purchased Saturday afternoon after the rain stopped. It my well be my last for the next couple of days, too, as I get everything moved, loaded, etc.

Damn, this sucker’s FAST.

Transitions

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…

Randomly Thursday

Tuesday’s urgent plea about ATM Deluxe produced not one, but two replies from Planet SOMA readers at Adobe. Oh, the power of the Internet. Now, if I could just develop a fan base among people who work at RAM factories…

I like Verdana today. Maybe you could tell by its proliferation on the front page. I think I’ll be changing all those “arial,helvetica,geneva” tags to “verdana, arial,geneva” soon. I also started liking today’s journal entry on the evils of historic preservation so much that I made it into its own page.

And now I have nothing much else to say. Actually, I have plenty to say. I’m just too damned tired to say any of it. Seems I’m tired a lot lately. Probably because I’m working a lot and (more recently) because I’m infatuated with the new computer. The complete lack of exercise might play a part as well.

Damn. There’s the garbage men. Back in a second.

OK. Trash dutifully discarded.

Strange. I’ve been living in the same apartment and sleeping in the same bedroom since 1992 and I just now noticed that my bedroom window is about an inch out of plumb from top to bottom. It’s not a problem (nor a big surprise given a wood frame building in earthquake country). It’s just odd that I never noticed before.

Twenty-two minutes ’til the Simpsons. I’m out of creative ideas. I’m tired. But I keep typing. Most likely, this is because I just hate it when the left column is significantly longer than the right one. I’m very anal about balance. My mom says it’s because she passed her Libra blood on to me. I don’t buy it, though.

Anyway, link du jour should fill out the page:

G’night…

Visitors from DC

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.

Good Frame of Mind

It’s been an insanely busy week (this is a recording…), but I find myself in a really positive frame of mind right now. It’s an unusual condition, and I’m sure it won’t last very long, so I’m figuring on enjoying it while I can.

Things just seem to be going well lately. I’m working a lot, but I’m not doing anything I hate (see exception below), and I even like all the people I’m working for. I have a zippy new computer, I’ve been maintaining generally good moods, and the house is even relatively clean.

There’s one weak link, my crutch, if you will. It’s the evil, hateful, soul-sucking on-site part-time job I still force myself to face 20-25 hours a week. I almost walked out last week. I foresee getting even closer this week. I just don’t care anymore.

It’s not so much that I hate any one single aspect of the job, although I do hate the fact that it’s much less flexible than it was when I was recruited into it a couple of years back. It’s more that I resent being there (and HAVING to be there at specific day and time), particularly now that I’m doing a lot more freelance work. I feel like I’m wasting my time when I could be spending it much more productively (at 2-3 times the hourly rate, thanks).

I particularly hate that I’ve become somewhat “indispensable”, more through lack of staff and training than through any particular greatness on my part. This, of course, makes my “flexible” part time job even less so.

So why don’t I just quit and spare myself the agony of this one glaring negative in an otherwise positive period? Largely because I’m scared to, I guess. It’s a sea of steady income in the feast or famine freelance world. And I’ve been working for this company off and on for over ten years, although I’ve spent the past two and a half in a wholly administrative capacity. And, if nothing else, it gets me out of the house once in a while.

I know. I need to give it up. I will very soon. Encouragement and long-term freelance projects actively solicited.

Things I love this week:

  • They Might Be Giants
  • Stouffers on sale, selected varieties, 4 for $5 at FoodsCo.
  • Mark, for doing me TWO big favors recently.
  • The book I’m reading on the history of Winn-Dixie.
  • Ma Pinkie’s Barbecue and Soul Food in San Mateo

Love/Hate

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…

The Ghost of Christmas Past

The ghost of Christmas past:

Most of my extended family lived pretty close to home, so I grew up with a heavy dose of family for the holidays. The tradition was to spend Christmas Eve with my mom’s side of the family and Christmas night with my dad’s side. My mom’s parents were divorced, so we visited my grandfather and his wife usually on the Saturday after Christmas until he died in 1979.

With my mom’s family on Christmas Eve, we always drew names and the youngest kids would pass out all the presents after dinner. Since I was the youngest of all my cousins, I was pressed into service for for a long time, until my other cousins started spawning their own kids. We usually did all this at my grandmother’s massive house, but the celebration rotated to other houses on occasion.

I remember a few things more than others: devilled eggs, two kinds of stuffing, bizarre cogealed salads, fighting over who got to sit in this one chair which looked like a throne, and sneaking outside to smoke with a few of my my cousins after I was a teenager. And we always drove around town looking at the Christmas lights before going home.

Christmas morning was just for me and my parents. OK, it was pretty much just for me. Later, we started having a late breakfast with my aunt and uncle who lived next door.

On Christmas night, we usually went to Reidsville to see my dad’s people, unless it was our turn to host them. This was a pretty lively gathering, bursting into a collection of Christmas carols and assorted hymns which ran pretty late into the evening. There were always at least two aunts with low-fi tape recorders preserving the whole thing. I wonder if they ever went back and listened to any of those tapes. There were some pretty good singers (my dad can really belt out “Oh Holy Night”) but I can’t imagine that the sound was very good.

With my dad’s family, I learned that people with very bad politics and opinions can still be good people. They had the prejudices of an earlier place and time, but they were generally good, loving, moral people, many of whom devoted their lives to helping other people, even the ones they didn’t particularly care for.

I also had my first experience with “gaydar” at one of these gatherings. When I was about 15, I sneaked out to have a cigarette with my cousin’s new husband. He was sort of cute, and as we talked, I just sort of knew instinctively that he liked boys. And, a few years later, he was indeed one of the first faces I saw in the local queer bar. He and my cousin were amicably divorced by this time. No, I didn’t sleep with him.

At some point we’d always call my aunt and uncle in Florida, everyone taking a turn at the phone. Only one of my aunts ever seemed particularly worried about how high we ran her phone bill. Afterward, we ate a little more for the long journey (20 miles) back to Greensboro. I always hated that drive back because it meant Christmas was pretty much over.

The Saturday celebration with my grandfather and his wife Fleeta was always a little anti-climactic. I never felt quite comfortable at their house in the country with the well water and the black and white TV. I often got the feeling my grandfather had the same reaction. But Fleeta did make an amazing strawberry pie, and I’d kill for her recipe now.

The celebrations are a lot more muted now. There are fewer kids around, particularly on my dad’s side of the family, which hasn’t reproduced well. My grandparents have been gone for years, the last one dying in 1990. I’ve lost one aunt and two uncles in the past few years. The generation which pulled these celebrations together won’t last a lot longer, and I doubt my cousins and I will really keep the traditions alive.