The Streets of San Francisco

Yer humble host has now managed to collect a grand total of 93 episodes of “The Streets of San Francisco” on tape. Should make for a strange weekend-long marathon party. Ot at least for an interesting page of video captures soon.

Thanks to Mark for lunch yesterday, and to Jay for the amazing Chick-fil-A calendar (with coupons yet). More thanks to Grant for the 1972-era urban planning textbook aimed at third graders (look for copyright infringements soon on this page).

While I’m at it, post-Christmas thanks to Mom and Dad for the care package which included two boxes of Count Chocula. Thanks to Sarah for the cool Sid and Marty Kroft book and to Dan for the Quisp T-shirt. Am I forgetting anyone?

By the way, you too could be mentioned here. Just give me cool stuff. I have no ethics.

Here’s today’s link du jour. They didn’t give me anything.

To Have and to Hold

Many gay activists seem to believe that “gay marriage” is the single most important issue facing gay people today. I’m not inclined to agree. While I do believe that same-sex couples in committed relationships should have the same benefits as opposite-sex couples, I’m convinced that a far more important issue is the recognition of the freedom NOT to couple.

Here’s a bold statement: being paired off with a “life partner” or a “soulmate” ot whatever is not the end-all and be-all for everyone on the planet. Coupling is not the right option for everyone at evry phase of life. It’s not even the right option for some people at ANY phase of life.

I’m not sure why this is such a radical notion for some people. Our whole society seems to be designed for cute little pigeon-holed Noah’s Ark pairs, all the way from junior high dances to tandem burial plots. The tax laws favor married heterosexuals (preferably with children). The gay press is increasingly obsessed either with finding a mate or with what to do with one once you succeed. Singles are made to feel uncomfortable when they dine alone, go to movies alone, or when they just want to sit a home alone.

If the entire”gay movement” is about our right to choose our own partners, shouldn’t it naturally follow that we also have a right not to choose anyone? Is this not a valid viewpoint?

I want to make it clear that I’m not against coupling. I know many happy couples, and the happiest seem to be those where each partner has his or her own life. I’m not even averse to the idea of coupling myself at some point. But this notion that “finding the right mate” will somehow be the end of all one’s problems is just plain stupid.

Suppose, say, that my problem is that I’m trying to figure out who I am and who I want to be — not an uncommon problem, I might add. How will having a husband help? If I want emotional support, I go to my friends. Frankly, bringing somene else into this situation would only make things worse.

Once again, I may indeed “couple” at some point. It will obviously not be because I need 24-hour companionship, because I’m usually more happy by myself. It will not be for the tax breaks, because there aren’t any. It will not be beacuse I need a date for the movies or dinner or parties; I’m a big boy and I can do these things by myself. It will not be for sex; that’s why there are sex clubs. It will not be to please Mom and Dad, or (God forbid) to have children.

And it will most definitely not be because “I’m supposed to” or because “that’s what people do”. It will be because I’ve met someone I enjoy being with…someone who doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with me…someone who understands that the first person plural needn’t supercede the first person singular.

I’m not so cynical as to think that most people are in relationships for the aforementioned suspect reasons. I just wish all the “we” people would stop trying to get ME into one for those reasons.

Saturday Morning

I’m spending my Sunday morning cooking collard greens.

I remember when Sunday mornings used to be about hangovers and trying to get rid of whatever trash I’d picked up on Saturday night. Today, however, I got up at 9, went out for some breakfast, stopped by the bank (where I had to stand in LINE behind annoyingly perky yupsters in jogging drag), and came home to the pot, the greens, the salt pork (why can’t you buy fatback in California?), and “In the Heat of the Night” re-runs on TNT.

Yer humble host is feeling pretty damned domesticated this week, although there’s no danger of wedded bliss or a house in the suburbs. The thought of being coupled and having to spend every waking moment with someone else in close proximity is no more appealing now than it ever was, although the house part doesn’t sound too bad. But not in the suburbs, thank you. Maybe in Minnesota or Detroit.

Maybe this is all just leftovers from my trip home. Who knows?

Collards and Websites

So who would have thought you could find fresh collards in California in January. And at someplace as generic as Safeway yet? This bodes well for Sunday dinner, a belated New Year’s Day “good luck” meal at a friend’s house.

Web work makes for strange bedfellows. It seems there will be a Wintel machine in my house this weekend. I’m getting it ready to serve up a database for one of my sites. Until now I’ve managed never to have a Windozer in my home.

I’ll have to keep it away from all the good computers lest they become contaminated by it. I’d hate for my Mac to start displaying everything with big ugly fonts and for it to start calling itself “My Computer”. Sounds a little too much like a Fisher-Price toy.

Long weekend ahead.

Random Stuff

Between all the leftover work I avoided over Christmas and all and the fact that I’ve been sleeping off a really nasty bug all day, I am neither caught up on the website nor the email. I have, at least, managed to upload the first part of the North Carolina trip.

Other things I could be writing about but I’m not (just yet) might include whining about whatever this bug is that I’ve managed to pick up. I could discuss how pissed I am that I can’t get ADSL, even here in San Francisco’s most “wired” neighborhood.

I could include the fact that I got email from Strange de Jim (of Herb Caen fame). I could write about how I’m really starting to get serious about leaving San Francisco. I could tell the story of the disturbing graffiti which appeared on my front door this weekend.

I could even talk about that Leif Garrett documentary from Sunday night.

But I’m not going to get into any of this right now. I’m going back to bed.

Home

Back in San Francisco. Woopty-do. Less than a day back in town and I’m already smoking more and eating junk food again.

I may never again travel over the Christmas holidays. I really shouldn’t complain. I didn’t get stranded under eighteen inches of snow in Chicago like so many people did. I didn’t get stuck in Las Vegas without benefit of a hotel room like my roomie almost did. I didn’t have to rent a car and drive from Memphis like another friend did.

Actually, I had a great time at home in the land of Mom, Dad, and assorted friends and relatives. Details and some really bitchin’ pictures coming soon.

But I hate traveling at Christmas all the same. There were lines. There were delayed flights. There was ice. There were 13 degree nights. And I didn’t find myself in a single redeneck love nest.

Thanks to everyone who sent Christmas cards, email, etc. while I was gone. And thanks in advance to everyone who will continue to wait patiently while I catch up on answering said email. Give me a couple of days.

Last Day

Had the traditional late night “last night at home” talk with Dad last night. I miss having my parents nearby. The older I get, the more I find that I really like them (not that I doubted it before). I think it’s time to move back to someplace which is at least a little closer to home. Not Greensboro, probably not even North Carolina, but maybe Richmond or Atlanta, or Baltimore, or Philadelphia. Who knows? This brings up the same old “what am I going to do with my life” anxiety which I’m not in the mood to deal with right now.

Everything just seems so much saner away from San Francisco. The stress level is so much lower. People live in actual houses, with big rooms and porches and heat that works. No one feels trapped at home by the fact that leaving the house means giving up your parking space. Gas is cheaper. Cigarettes are cheaper. Food is cheaper (and better). Rent is cheaper. Everything is cheaper.

I’m sitting in Charlotte-Douglas International Airport. I spent an hour checking in and almost had a heart attack running to the gate with five minutes to spare, only to find my flight delayed 90 minutes. Now they’ve added another half hour on top of that.

I just spent $3.00 and ended up with five sticks of gum, a newspaper, and a cheap Bic pen. Then I shelled out $2.50 for a Coke at the bar so could smoke. I hate airports. I hate flying.

I’m going home to San Francisco. For a while, anyway…

Winston-Salem

 

I stayed an extra day because the flights were tight and because there were one or two more relatives to visit. Instead of the relatives, though, we took the back road to Winston-Salem (NC’s own Route 66) to see some urban decay and a mall.

 

Mall first. We shopped. We looked around. I watched more scary redneck kids. Security stopped me (with Mom and Dad) and told me I was not allowed to videotape in the mall. I told the rent-a-cop that was fine because I was through anyway. She didn’t look pleased. I didn’t look like I cared. We left. See the “concept shots” which so threatened the sanctity of the mall above.

Then we headed downtown to the factory district. This was the area where R.J. Reynolds used to make Winstons and Salems and Camels, until they moved to a new plant on the edge of town. The area is threatening to develop into a high-tech office and loft condo area, but a major fire a few months ago delayed some of the plans.

 

Parts of this area resemble Detroit. Lots of abandoned and boarded-up buildings are surrounded by large open areas, the result of unsuccessful urban renewal in the 1960s and 1970s. If I lived in Winston-Salem, this would be my neighborhood.

Winston-Salem is kind of an interesting place. As one might guess, it was formed when the towns of Winston and Salem merged. Until the 1920s, it was North Carolina’s largest city, and it still retains an older and more urban feel than Greensboro, even though Greensboro is now a much larger city.

Drag and Nostalgia

Lunch today with Mom at Libby Hill. ‘Twas a nice thing eating the real southern version of fried fish. It’s one of the things I miss most. We hit the branch on Summitt Avenue, which used to be a Hot Shoppes drive-in (the chain from DC which evolved into Marriott Corporation).

 

Tonight, I did the nightlife thing with Jeff again. We met at Babylon, fled the perky Swing Night crowd as quickly as we could, and headed for College Hill Sundries and New York Pizza, two of my old UNCG hangouts. Then it was off to the Palms, where Jeff was working, and the ever-wondrous Marilyn Rivers was on stage.

 

Every time I come home, I get progressively more and more nostalgic. In my warm and comfy bed, with all that free Mom and Dad food, I start thinking “Greensboro is not such a bad place”. Eventually, I have a revelation and come back to my senses. This revelation usually happens at the Palms. Tonight was that night. All of a sudden the “I gotta get the hell out of here” light started flashing. I fled.

Another day and half and I’d flee town altogether.

iMac Watch ’99

This afternoon, I watched a lot of TV with the folks. We were waiting for Steve Jobs to spill the beans about the new iMacs, since my mom was planning to buy one. We must have looked like an odd neo-techno version of the Waltons, huddled around the radio waiting for FDR to give a Fireside Chat. Or at least it seemed that way to me at the time.

After the announcement, I took pictures of abandoned motels. Why should this be any different from any other road trip, after all?