Journals :1999 : November
2 November 1999 | Link this
I may have finally found the best bar jukebox in all of San Francisco. The bar surrounding said jukebox is Lucky 13 on Market Street. I was there tonight at a going away party for a friend who's escaping Kinko's (at least for a while). There are few things more wonderful than forcing an entire bar to listen to "Let's Have a War" by Fear. I love livin' in the city.
There was a joke embedded in that last sentence. Most people won't get it. I'm comfortable with that.
David's funk seems to have lifted, you may be thinking. Alas, it's not true. I'm just masking it better. There could be denial involved. Who knows?
All I know is that now, in addition to being depressed and insomniac, I'm having to face the fact that I may be (shudder) lactose intolerant. I'll spare you the scatalogical details and just say that consuming Count Chocula now seems to come with a price. I haven't yet tried any of that stuff from those commercials I used to laugh at. Suggestions welcome, as long as they don't involve soy milk.
Gee heck. I'm just falling apart, huh? Yeah, I know. Most of the world's population would kill to have problems as insignificant as mine. That's small comfort when I have a case of the trots and I'm out of Charmin, dammit...
4 November 1999 | Link this
Y'know, I really didn't intend for the gastrointestinal journal entry to be on the front page for quite so long, but it's been a hectic couple of days. That would explain all the email I haven't answered too. Partially.
Anyway, it looks like a pretty good election this year. Most of the ballot initiatives are going my way, including all the ones I felt strongly about. For the third time, we've voted on the fate of what's left of the Central Freeway. It's now two votes to one in favor of demolition. Can we tear the damned thing down now or do we have to go for best three out of five?
But the big story, of course, is the success of Tom Amminano's campaign. For a write-in candidate to recieve 25% of the vote after a two-week campaign speaks volumes about San Francisco's disgust for the arrogance and sell-out politics of Willie Brown, who managed to pull in only 38% himself. Should be an interesting run-off.
A few random links du jour which I've been meaning to add for a while:
Looking forward to getting a lot of sleep this weekend...
5 November 1999 | Link this
I'm never making an appointment with the DMV again. I called for one this morning. The earliest one available was next Thusday at 2PM. Since this matter really couldn't wait that long, I decided to risk the Friday afternoon lines. I was in and out within 20 minutes. Time saved by NOT making an appointment: 5 days and 23 hours.
California's a strange place with respect to driver's license renewals. To start with, you don't leave with an actual new license. You leave with a piece of paper clipped to your old one. The new one comes in the mail few weeks later. So much for instant gratification.
Of course, you can always renew by mail, which is what I tried to do in the first place. Thanks to the US Postal Service, however, my check and form are probably now in Oregon somewhere. The thing about renewing by mail is that you end up with the same picture for a decade or so. This is known as the "Dorian Gray Reversal Syndrome". You age, but the picture stays young.
They must use the same system for newspaper obituary photos, which would explain why that 80-year-old woman who just died in Antioch or Fairfax doesn't look a day over 40 and still has a big beehive hairdo.
Coming soon: my horror at the fact that my Lucky supermarket on Allemany has suddenly become an Albertson's.
8 November 1999 | Link this
I really don't have much to say tonight. I found this lovely tidbit at the Super K-mart in Oakland last night when Dan, Jamie and I popped in after dinner. It's hard to beat the Super K-mart for late night fun. We spent almost two hours there. I bought cookies. Jamie bought socks. Dan bought gum. But it's not about the purchases. It's about playing with all the toys and looking at all the strange synthetic blends in the clothes.
This afternoon, I finally took the official version of Did You Bring Bottles live just in time to feature my timely obituary for Lucky Stores. The idea of shopping at Albertson's is without any sense of fun. Albertson's sounds like it should be the name of a feed store.
And last night, I had an unexpected quick dinner with out-of-town friend Jim. He gave me an animated mouse pad and the video which I'll be watching in a few minutes. He too felt the awsome power of Millineos.
Today, I went driving in the rain. It was wonderful.
Not much else going on. I'm preparing for my trip to North Carolina on Thursday to help Mom and Dad celebrate 50 years of wedded bliss (and to see how many relatives ask me when I'll be celebrating ANY wedded bliss). I'll try to do an update or two from there on Mom's new Mac, but I ain't making any promises.
Anybody got a spare parking space for my car while I'm gone?
11 November 1999 | Link this
My parents have been married for fifty years. That's longer than I've been alive. And yes, I do realize the irony of that statement. I also realize that some people may not find it ironic at all.
Anyway, I ventured home for the big occasion. There was a lot on the agenda this trip, both scheduled events, training Mom on her new iMac, and my desire to talk with Mom and Dad about what my next home town should be, San Francisco no longer being an option. It was not a relaxing vacation.
I didn't sleep at all the night before, probably because I was sacred I wouldn't wake up in time for my obscenely early flight. Therefore, I was a little cranky and tired all day. Not being able to smoke on the cramped plane didn't help either. And food? What food? I didn't eat anything significant until I hit the Burger King in the Saint Louis airport for a week-old Whopper. Extra points, though, to Saint Louis for having convenient and plentiful smoking rooms.
Mom and Dad met me at the Raleigh airport (the one I imagine Andy and Opie used to fly to Hollwood). We took a shuttle to the next county where they had to park and headed for Greensboro by way of the Apple House Cafeteria in Burlington (in the mall formerly known as Holly Hill). I was in bed by 11.
12 November 1999 | Link this
This was the actual anniversary day, but the celebration was scheduled for Sunday, so we really didn't do much of anything except have lunch at an overpriced restaurant which was way too pretentious for Greensboro (or me). It was pretty, though.
Dinner at the K&W Cafeteria. They didn't have chicken pie. I was disappointed.
13 November 1999 | Link this
Got up early. Went to yard sales with my Mom and Aunt Norma (who lives next door). We hit the grocery store later (Harris Teeter) and I bought provisions to bring back to California. My dad and I drove to Reidsville for the 50th anniversary celebration of a barbecue joint there, and I realized that my camera was dead. Late in the afternoon, my cousin's wife dropped by with a loaner camera for me, God bless her.
Later in the evening, I popped into Border's for a few last-minute anniversary presents. I usually don't shop at this hotbed of union-busting, but there was noplace else open. The place was packed. Greensboro must be getting more literate.
14 November 1999 | Link this
The reception began at 3, and was held at my aunt's house next door. All in all, over a hundred people showed up. This was particularly convenient for me, as it allowed me to see all the relatives at once, rather than spending hours and days driving around town.
My function was to take pictures and look dashing in a tie. I took lots of pictures. I wore a tie. "Dashing", however, would be too much of a stretch.
Some cool touches: my mom's wedding dress and veil were on display, as were lots of old photos. The guests signed the original guest book from the wedding (on a separate page, of course). Another aunt made those cool little miniature ham biscuits. And I knew at least half the people there.
15 November 1999 | Link this
Quick update. There are no new pictures. They will happen soon.
I'm just plugging along on Mom's new iMac, writing in SimpleText (Windoze types think "Notepad") just to see if I remember how (and because I have no other options until I can buy Mom a Zip drive).
The fiftieth anniversary is complete. About a hundred friends and family members appeared for the celebration. I wore a tie. People were shocked. I, of course, was just uncomfortable. But I consumed sufficient numbers of sausage balls to ease my pain.
Later this week, there will be quality time in Charlotte with Duncan and in Wilmington with relatives. There will be barbecue and grits and Cheerwine, and pictures of supermarkets where absolutely everthing is cheaper.
But for now, I'm going to sleep in my childhood bed.
Mom reserved me for a day of cleaning out the storage building behind the house, as about half its contents belong to me. I dug through old newspapers, toys, and other things I never had the energy to drag to California. It was dusty and smelly. When I got to the top shelf, I realized a lot of the stench had come from the piles of squirrel shit there. Apparently they sneak in through the eves.
It got even better a few shelves down when I saw this immobile furry thing. I jumped a little when I saw it, a little nauseous at the prospect of pulling out a dead squirrel. I jumped considerably more when it moved, and I saw that it was way too big to be a squirrel.
Turns out a full-grown raccoon was living inside that box of old Sears catalogs. Conveniently. my mom wouldn't let me touch it, fearing rabies. I was comfortable with that, as I didn't want to get near the damned thing anyway. Mom called animal control. The raccoon, cute as it may have been, went away to be euthanized (a polite term for "killed"). Mom was relieved and a little sad.
That night, I went to the library at UNCG to do a little research and to see if my old tearooms were still jumping. They were not, alas...
16 November 1999 | Link this
Off to Charlotte to see Duncan. This meeting proved difficult at first, as I couldn't catch Duncan on the phone, no matter how hard I tried. As it turns out, Duncan couldn't get home to his phone. Seems there was a hostage situation in his complex. Unlike in San Francisco, though, it was not related to speed or crack in any way.
Eventually we met, though, and I also met Rick, Duncan's new betrothed, and Caleb, who could easily become one of my favorite dogs on the planet.
We had dinner at Gus' Sir Beef, where you come for the great name, but stay for the "fresh my farm" vegetables. Then Duncan and Rick took me on a vintage supermarket tour. One of the things love about Duncan is that he will (a) do something most people would find horribly boring and (b) actually be enthusiastic about it.
I went to sleep in my private guest room (with private guest bath) and wondered why my rent (which is probably more than their mortgage) doesn't allow me to have an extra bedroom and bathroom (or God forbid a parking space). Sometime in the middle of the night, I decided it was time to move back to a saner place. Charlotte seems as likely as any right now.
17 November 1999: | Link this
I woke up about 8. Duncan and Rick were at work, so I spent the morning getting some of the only rest and having some of the only down-time of the whole trip. I watched "The New Scooby Doo Movies" with special guest Speed Buggy. And when I stepped out on the patio for a cigarette, I remembered just how cold North Carolina can get in November.
Duncan and I went to lunch at McDonald's Cafeteria (which does not serve hamburgers, thank you) and I had some stunning greens and peach cobbler. We popped by the TV station whose website I design long distance. And then we continued the Great Charlotte Supermarket Tour of 1999.
Dinner at a restaurant near Duncan and Rick's and then they drove me back to Mom and Dad. Mom loves Duncan and was happy to see him.
I drove downtown to the Palms to see Jeff and Joel and there spent the only hour of my trip which involved a bar. And I feel guilty about not seeing more of Jeff, but our schedules just conflicted too much in this hectic trip.
Thursday 18 November 1999 | Link this
Today was my day to drive around the city taking pictures, many of which will soon be featured elsewhere on the site. Today was also my day to realize I was getting a bad cold.
The pictures were great; I concentrated on downtown, the ghost mall, and old supermarkets. The cold, on the other hand, sucked and made life miserable for the next few days.
For those of you keeping score. My mom used to live in the building above.
19 November 1999: | Link this
I really didn't want to go. I felt like crap, and I wanted to relax a bit and spend more time in Greensboro. But I didn't say so, and we left early for Wilmington. My cousin and her husband had purchased a building downtown (the Masonic Temple no less) from Dennis Hopper. They were having a party celebrating the opening of the theatre and roof deck on the fifth floor.
Interstate 40 between Raleigh and Wilmington is hideously boring. I nodded off a few times. When we arrived in Wilmington and checked into the Hampton Inn, I really wanted to sleep. I was also a bit leery of sleeping in the same room with my parents for the first time in a good twelve or thirteen years. But there's no polite way to say "I don't want to stay in the same room with you so I'm getting one of my own. I'll pay"
Wilmington was nice, if a bit of a traffic nightmare. The historic district downtown has not yet succumbed to the twin pressures of Starbuck's and terminal cuteness, although a bar called "Dot-com" was a bit off-putting. I found a great dusty old used bookstore and actually spent a few bucks.
We had dinner in at the Front Street Brewery. These places aren't known for their food in general, but this place was just plain awful. I got jerk pork. Ever eaten jerk pork with no spices at all? I don't think they even used salt.
The party was fun. There was a play. There was music. There was beer, but I didn't have any because I already felt rotten enough. Linda Lavin was there, although no one could quite pick her out. The view of the Cape Fear River from the roof deck was amazing. I know this because the roof deck was also the smoking area.
After the party, my Dad and I walked to the Waffle house by the motel and had real food.
20 November 1999 | Link this
I slept as badly as I knew I would. On the way out of town, we visited Carolina Beach and stopped at a barbecue joint in Garner. I grabbed refrigerator magnets and cheap cigarettes at a huge outlet in Burlington. And we came home.
Dinner at the J&S Cafeteria (see a trend here?) and my Dad and I went back to Harris-Teeter so I could get more provisions. I washed clothes.
21 November 1999 | Link this
Lunch at the cafeteria in Burlington, and off to Raleigh and the airport. We said hurried goodbyes and I checked in at the front desk. At the metal detector, a guard (LIzzie Wright is her name, by the way) wouldn't let me go through with my fake bullet necklace.
I wasn't really so upset that she stopped me (even though she admitted she new it was nothing dangerous). I was upset that she was so rude and hateful about it, refusing to even let me sit it down while I went to get an envelope to mail it to myself. She obviously wasn't concerned that it would explode or anything, otherwise she would have been worried when I threw it in the trash. Which I did, since I I didn't have time to argue anymore.
This wasn't a security risk and she knew it (she even said so). She just didn't want to have her fat ass bothered by actually helping someone resolve a situation. Lizzie was nothing but a bitch and a control freak. Period. So I threw it away, thanked Lizzie for her southern hospitality, and got on the plane.
After paying $120 for long-term parking (cheaper than the tickets I would have gotten otherwise), I got on the freeway toward San Francisco. I flipped off two people on the way home, got tailgated three times, and got cut off twice. I suddenly had a strange longing to be back on Merritt Drive in Greensboro with its quaint little "aggressive driving enforcement area" signs.
Welcome home.
22 November 1999 | Link this
Home again. Bags unpacked. Clothes put away. Car stowed in a relatively legal parking space. Ears still popping from the flight.
Coming shortly, essays and photos related to:
- Squirrel shit.
- Raccoons.
- Okra, collard greens, and sweet tea.
- A party in Dennis Hopper's place which Linda Lavin and I were at.
- Sleeping in the same motel room with my parents.
- Condos, apartments, and even houses I could afford.
- Thoroughly adorable Bosnian young'uns.
- The Raleigh-Durham airport and the evils of air travel.
- A 50-year-old supermarket on Walker Avenue.
- Mom and Dad's anniversary party.
- The iMac.
- Tearooms (or lack thereof).
- Cheap cigarettes.
- How much I don't want to live in San Francisco anymore.
But I'm tired, so all of this will have to wait. I wouldn't count on a lot of email responses for a couple more days either, but I'll be working on it. Soon...
24 November 1999 | Link this
November's "Idiot of the Month" award is proudly offered to Rich Tafel and his pals in the Log Cabin Republican Club. Granted, this team of faggots would be shoo-in candidates for idiots of the DECADE. But they've made particular asses of themselves this month by courting George W. Bush and then expressing shock that he wasn't interested in their advances.
Imagine that: a Republican candidate for President wasn't interested in meeting with a group of sell-out gay Republicans. What a surprise. When will Rich and his merry band of Aunt Marys ever realize that the Republicans they so idolize would be thrilled if these particular suitors disappeared from the face of the earth.
The Log Cabin types remind me of gay men who spend their entire lives chasing after totally unobtainable straight macho men. They're absolutely nuts about individuals who (by and large) feel nothing but contempt for them. If they're drunk enough, they might let a fag suck them off, but they're never going to return the favor, and they're certainly never going to take one home to meet Mom.
Same with the Republicans: they may take money and support as long as the fags don't expect any acknowledgement or support. Bush, has indeed stated that, while not agreeing to meet with them, he WOULD accept a donation or endorsement from the Log Cabin Club, thus qualifying him for the "Hypocrite of the Month" award. The really frightening thing is that, as the Republican front-runner, Bush probably will ultimately receieve an endorsement.
Or maybe the Log Cabin Republicans can all join the Reform Party and bend over for Pat Buchanan in a back room at the convention. Hope they don't plan on getting near the podium, though...
26 November 1999 | Link this
I'm getting all the rest over the Thanksgiving weekend that I didn't get while I was on vacation. What that means is that (a) I'm still way behind on the email and (b) there are no pictures and trip journals yet. Sorry.
Now, mind you, this doesn't mean that I've been sitting by the TV for all of the past three days. In addition to the new stuff you see to your left, I actually dragged my ass down the street to the neighborhood bars on Wednesday night for my monthly visit. The bar scene was no less tepid than it's been for the past year or so, but the night was saved when I ran into a visiting member of the web family (oh, let's just call him "Bruce") and a couple of his friends.
Worry not, my unintentional celibacy remains intact, but it was nice having someone fun to talk to, if a bit disturbing to realize that (courtesy of this site) there are people I've never met who are quite familiar with my life. Nice guy, though, which was a bit of a relief as I'd already broken the rules and given him a phone number, site unseen, since I figured no one would lie about having a degree in urban planning. I have one too, and I almost never lie.
Thursday brought a great Thanksgiving dinner with Sarah and Brad. There was turkey and dressing and veggies and wine, and I brought a pumpkin pie and a can of aerosol whipped cream. Before dinner, we watched football, which seemed very traditional (and I promised to skip all wry football comments here , even though I wasn't going to make any anyway).
Afterwards, Sarah and Brad were kind enough to sit through a tape of last Sunday's Fox cartoons which I'd missed while waiting for a shuttle at the airport. Then Sarah and I went for a walk to look at the sea lions. Sarah was quite horrified to realize that San Francisco's 127th Gap has just opened very close to her building.
And today, I've done damn near nothing but scrub the bathtub and clean the refrigerator, which sounds like a lot but only accounts for about 45 minutes. I'm not sure what happened to the rest of the day.
I may hit the corner bars again tonight (twice in one month yet) because I'm so horny I could fuck the crack of dawn right now (pardon the Southernism). It won't do any good, but at least I'll feel like I tried...
28 November 1999 | Link this
This is starting to creep me out just a little. A LOT of people (including my mom) lately have commented that I seemed to have lost a lot of weight. I figured they were just being polite. Then I went out to the corner queer bar last night and ran into a frind I hadn't seen in a few months. He said the same thing, worrying, even, that there might be some health issue involved (the standard San Francisco reaction to weight loss).
Frankly, I think I'm as much of a lard-ass as ever, although I realized last night that I no longer own scales so I can't really tell. God knows I still eat as horribly as ever, although I have been eating at home more lately, which does usually mean more vegetables. I haven't been eating quite as much fast food, and I've just about sworn off booze. But I'm still quite sedentary, perhaps even more so than I used to be.
It's a little difficult to figure out the truth here. Friends who see me every day or every week probably wouldn't notice, and it's not easy to arrange chance encounters with long-lost friends.
Now that I think about it, though, my pants aren't feeling quite so tight today and my gut may not look quite so prominent. If I have lost a lot of weight, I'm glad, because I really needed to. But it sure would be nice to know how I did it, since I haven't really been doing anything much differently than before. September and October were pretty rough months, though. Maybe I just sweated it off...
So now I'm contemplating losing still more weight, having a check-up (just in case), and selling my secrets to the world, as soon as I figure out what they are.
***
A little later same day. My friend Paula had the same "you've lost weight" opinion today as we headed for the thrift stores in Redwood City. I guess I believe it now...
29 November 1999 | Link this
This Waffle House in Burlington NC may be the only one in captivity which deviates from the standard brown walls and yellow roof prototype so common in the south. But even in its deviance, it's still a chain prototype. It used to be a Sunoco station. That said, you're now ready to read about my trip home to North Carolina a couple of weeks back. Finally. Enjoy.
If you're inordinantly interested in my past life, you can also check out the lost journal entries from 1988 and 1989-1992 that I found at home, while dodging raccoons and squirrel shit. They come pretty close to filling a big gap in the series. Or you could just skip 'em.
Unrelated to the above:
I seem to have developed a strange sort of Christmas fetish this year. I've been listening to the music and watching the assorted cartoons. I have an urge to bake. I've even been contemplating buying a tree. I've never bought a Christmas tree on my own, although I used to decorate the elephant plant when I lived in Charlotte. I don't think Irma would let me decorate her.
Maybe it's because I probably won't be going home for Christmas this year until sometime in January. Maybe it's my newfound domesticity. Or maybe it's because this will probably be my last one in San Francisco. I don't know. All I'm sure of is that I really want an illuminated plastic snowman.
30 November 1999 | Link this
Aplogies to anyone who tried to hit the site but couldn't on Monday. A strategically placed link at Suck.com resulted in a slight bandwidth catstrophe, blocking access for a good chunk of the afternoon and evening. I don't envision a repeat performance. I appreciate the link, but jeez, you'd think they'd warn a guy...