Year: 1998

Changes Afoot

So then there are those mornings when you find yourself awake at an ungodly hour completely unable to sleep because so many unsettling thoughts keep getting lodged in your brain. This kind of insomnia must be a lot like a psychological equivalent of AIDS. One big anxiety compromises your faculties such that a multitude of smaller opportunistic anxieties intrude. The net result is no sleep. It’s been happening a lot the past week or so.

I guess the “big anxiety” stems from the fact that my roomie of six years is getting pretty damned close to buying a house. This, in itself, is a good thing. I’m happy for him, although I’m still not convinced of the wisdom of buying property at the peak of the most inflated real estate market in Bay Area history.

I feel really guilty that I can’t bring myself to act enthusiastic when he talks about it, but the whole thing is causing a tremendous surge of uncertainty in my life. The most obvious problem is the necessity of finding a new roommate, not an easy task given my general lack of sociability. At this point, I’ll consider taking speculative applications…

There are financial pressures as well, coming at a time when I’m living quite adequately but have no savings to speak of. I’ll have to come up with the deposit which I never paid upon moving into this place. Utilities will have to be transferred into my name.

And of course there remains the big question of whether I’m still under rent control when he moves out. The prospect of paying current market rent on a two-bedroom apartment South of Market (or anywhere in San Francisco) is not pretty. In fact, it’s down right terrifying. I’d even consider it an impossibility, more or less.

So then the little anxieties surface. Is it really worth it to continue living here? Should I look on this as a sign that it’s time to get the hell out of this increasingly expensive, rapidly gentrifying city? And if the answer is yes, where exactly should I go and what the hell should I do when I get there? What exactly am I doing with my life anyway?

Oops…maybe that’s the REAL “big anxiety”. It does, after all, come down to that “what do I want to be when I grow up” thing, doesn’t it? Admittedly, it’s hard to address that particular issue with so other more pressing crises piled up in front of me. But, of course, that’s pretty much the same excuse I’ve been using for almost 34 years now…

It’s after 4:00 now. Maybe I should consider trying to go back to sleep or something. Whatever’s coming up can’t harm me while I’m sleeping. If only I WERE sleeping…

Ten Years Ago

Ten years ago this week I was just getting used to a new apartment in Charlotte NC (still the coolest apartment I’ve ever occupied and it rented for $250). I was thoroughly annoyed with fags. I was pondering the oddly disturbing fact that I was about to enter my mid-20s. I had recurring fantasies involving the Beastie Boys having their way with me. I was planning one of my first really major road trips, to Boston and New York with my friend Jeff.

This week in 1998, I’m pondering keeping an apartment in SF (which is about the same size and rents for more than $800) by myself when my roomie moves out. I’m thoroughly annoyed with fags. I’m pondering the less disturbing fact that I’m about to enter my mid-30s. I’d still probably do the Beastie Boys if the opportunity should arise. And I’m planning on Chicago and Minneapolis in the fall.

Yup…it’s birthday time once again. Two weeks from today yer humble host hits 34. I will have outlived Mama Cass and Jesus Christ. I will be the same age as my mother at the time of my birth. And in two short years it will be legal for me to be attracted to people half my age. My birthday will require a tremendous outpouring of support. A list of appropriate gifts is available upon request…

Best of the Bay

What I didn’t expect was a phone call from my friend Avery congratulating me for being a Best of the Bay winner in this week’s Guardian. This came out of nowhere! To be voted one of a handfull of the best web sites in the Bay Area by the editors of the best newspaper in the Bay Area is pretty fuckin’ cool! Yer humble host is even more humble thatn usual (though not too humble to mention the award, you’ll note…)

For those of you from outside the area, the Guardian is SF’s equivalent of the Village Voice or the Chicago Reader. There is no publication in the city from which I’d be happier to receive an award. I’ve been reading the annual Best of the Bay issue since before I moved here in 1992. Never figured I’d actually be IN it.

So now I get to be in the winners’ photo shoot in the morning at Kezar Stadium. I get the cool certificate like they have at Naked Eye and Pancho Villa and even Kinko’s (which was voted “Best Insomniac Playground” a few years back). I get the strange satisfaction of seeing my name in newsprint.

This is cool!

Another Year Older

Thanks to all who sent birthday greetings. Best gifts so far came from Mom and Dad, who (among other things) sent me a Matchbox Brady Bunch station wagon and a copy of “Jungle Book” (the animated one, thank you…) I love that I have parents who are cool enough to send me toys and cartoons for my birthday. They KNOW that I love toys and cartoons. They aren’t SCARED that I love toys and cartoons. I love my Mom and Dad. Of course, I’d probably still be pretty fond of them even if they didn’t send me toys and cartoons…

Other than the above, the birthday was pretty uneventful. I had pizza with my roomie and a friend, and then we went to Baskin Robbins. And then I cleaned the commode ‘cuz it smelled kinda funky. Definitely a low-impact day compared with some past birthdays…

The Earth Moved

Before anyone asks, it was a complete and total non-event. A magnitude of 5.4 according to the fine folks at Richter (a subsidiary of Microsoft). If not for the accompanying media frenzy, half the Bay Area might well not even have noticed. Of course, native Californians being such a jaded bunch, they generally don’t admit to feeling anything less than a 7.0 anyhow…

From the coverage on local TV, though, you’d think this was the first time California had ever had an earthquake. Jeez…talk about overkill… It brought to mind the panic that hits in places like North Carolina, when the TV stations spend hours going over emergency procedures in preparation for the two-inch layer of snow which MIGHT be on the ground in the morning…

I wouldn’t have noticed either, except for the fact that the damned thing woke me up at 7:15 in the morning (almost two hours earlier than I needed to be awake) and I never quite got back to sleep. This was not amusing at all, since I was already up half the night thanks to the hunger of the El Nino-generated mosquitoes.

This was probably the fourth or fifth noticeable but minor quake in my six years here. The first coincided, as these things do, with my mom’s first visit to SF. It came just after I’d dropped her off at her hotel. I called to say good night. Suddenly my roomie (who was watching the news) yelled “earthquake” from the next room. I asked where. I got my answer pretty quickly.

Mom seemed a little nervous. My aunt, who was also visiting, sounded terrified. I, working on my “Californian” credential, was mildly amused…

The second came a few months later, as I was lying in bed having…ummm…some quality time by myself. Suffice to say, when the earth moved that night, it REALLY moved…

By the way, no one believes that last story, but it’s really true…

Ultimately, I’ve been in storms back east which sacred me lots more than this earthquake. Keep in mind that SF has had two (maybe three) quakes of any particular significance in the past 100 years. I know a few trailer parks in North Carolina which get that many tornadoes in a decade…

Crushes

Crushes. Don’t you just hate ’em? I’d think that by the age of 34, I’d be immune to this kind of thing, but I’m not. And this annoys me no end.

I define a crush not as something particularly obsessive, nor even particularly sexual. As a matter of fact, the whole concept seems a little cloyingly sweet for a jaded old cynic like myself. I don’t really want to jump the guy’s bones…it’s more of a desire to curl up and have long conversations. Maybe with a realtively laid back dog at the foot of the bed or something. He’s just a neat guy that I like talking to and would love to spend a lot more time with.

Gag…wretch…puke…

Disillusioned

I must admit that I’m giving much more consideration than ever before to just packing up and leaving the city formerly known as Sodom by the Bay.

It’s sad really. I love it here in many ways. San Francisco is a beautiful place, and I know I would miss the city terribly. This is home. I’ve lived here six years…far longer than anyplace else but Greensboro, the city where I was born. But I’m disillusioned, and I’m beginning to think my own personal California Dream may be just about used up.

It’s hard for me to justify the expense and the stress of living in a boom town. The ridiculous rents. The fear of living in the shadow of the newest loftominium. The threat of being forced out of my apartment on 30 days notice if the owner decides to sell. The knowledge that there would be no place in the city for me to go if this happened.

But there’s more. The idiots who drive (and live) like they’re still in Houston or Denver or Atlanta or whatever other boom town they just moved from. The Starbucks on every corner. The crowds at the movies…at the ATM…at Safeway…in restaurants…on the bus…everywhere…

San Francisco is a boom town. People who don’t have the financial or career status to cope are no longer welcome here. The whole tone of the city is changing. The working class, the artists, and anyone else who can’t (or won’t) buy into the new corporate culture of San Francisco are an endangered species. It’s all career and conspicuous consumption, fueled by the voodoo economies of Silicon Valley and Montgomery Street, among other things.

The new order is not my cup of tea, obviously: a multitude of drones with no moral center or respect for the place they’ve invaded. Vapid corporate slaves in ugly new buildings who don’t know (or care) what they destroyed in the process. And their employers: corporations with even fewer morals which exist not to produce a “product”, but to become an attractive takeover target, providing quick cash for the founders and unemployment for the rest.

This is a population which could vote a chain like Chevy’s “best Mexican restaurant” and Nordstrom “best place to buy men’s and women’s clothing”.”Expensive” and “cute” are fast becoming the two most descriptive terms for almost everything here. “Generic” is a close third.

Of course, it’s all going to crash soon. How long can we sustain a paper economy where no actual goods are produced? How long can the idea of cute industrial condos remain trendy for the short attention spanned yupsters of the late 1990s? At some point, the boom will become a liability, even for businesses and developers. Eventually, people will decide San Francisco is not special enough to justify the cost of living here.

And they’ll be completely correct. The people who made San Francisco special won’t be living here anymore. So many have already left. Many more are leaving, or are seriously considering it. There’s a pervasive sense of hopelessness and doom among many creative people…among many of my friends. San Francisco as we used to know it is over. It’s history. Period.

The most deeply disturbing aspect of this whole thing, I think, is that so few people seem to be concerned about it. I expected more from San Francisco.

I’m tired of complaining about it and wishing things were still the way they used to be. I’m tired of our stylishly arrogant mayor and his slimy developer/banker friends. When reading about the history of the city, I no longer get excited about the foundations of what we have. History now reads more like a eulogy for what we’ve lost. I don’t have any illusions that things are better anyplace else; I simply wonder if it’s worth the effort paying a premium to live someplace which is becoming so very much LIKE everyplace else.

I’m just tired. And I don’t think I’m deriving enough benefit to make the city worth the hassle and risk anymore. Leaving would be a sound investment decision. I’m sure the newcomers would understand.

Find a City

Not that I’m committing to any radical course of action in the face of my current disillusionment, but I find myself scoping other cities with increasing frequency. Any comments (particularly from people who live or have lived in any of these places) are most welcome. First, some of the criteria:

Type of City:

I fancy a fairly large place (in the 500,000 to 1,000,000 population range) just because these cities tend to be more interesting and diverse, and have bonuses like working transit, a variety of bars and restaurants, etc. I do, however, want a place where having a car is not a complete nightmare. I do in fact have a bias for older (perhaps even decaying) industrial-type cities. One bedroom apartments in the $500 range are a plus. Cheaper ones are a much bigger plus. Some job options might be nice too…

Geography:

Proximity to the Family is increasingly important; I’d like to be within a day’s drive from home. This rules out the west coast. Having a river, lake, or other large body of water IN the city is pretty essential as well, for aesthetic reasons rather than recreational ones. A variety of fairly close road trip destinations is just as important. I don’t particularly mind cold weather, or even some snow, although these are not “must haves”. I really hate hot summers.

Ruled out from the start:

Cute college towns, gentrified yuppie meccas, and relatively suburban boomtowns (Houston, Denver, Charlotte) hold no appeal whatsoever. Neither do congested nightmares like Washington, New York, and Boston. Portland and Seattle are probably not options either, losing out only because of distance from the parents. Los Angeles and San Diego never were options, nor was the southwest or New England. And I will not move back to the south…no discussion allowed…

And now the short list (not that I’m planning to move or anything):

  • Chicago (visited in 1996 and 1997): A little big, a little pricey, and the summers (and winters) are brutal. But it’s a great place. I like the way it looks. I could spend several years exploring and not get bored. There are White Castles and cheap Indian restaurants, and bowling alleys which host bands, and the transit is good.
  • Detroit (visited once in 1997): Most people who know me realize I have an unhealthy obsession with Detroit. The climate sucks, there’s no transit to speak of, and the place can be down right scary. But I still like it. Canada’s just across the river. The cost of living is close to nothing. They have White Castles too…
  • Baltimore (most recent visit in 1997): I’ve visited pretty often and Baltimore has always intrigued me. No one seems to like the place except its residents. This is a big plus. It’s also close to New York, Philadelphia, and home, and not all that far from Chicago and Detroit. Could be an option…
  • Toronto (visited once in 1979): I don’t know about the logistics of moving to Canada. But I’d like to look around the place and see how it’s changed since my last visit nearly 20 years ago…
  • Oakland (just across the bay): I include Oakland simply because it’s where I WILL live if I stay in the Bay Area…
  • Minneapolis (visited once in 1996): Damn…talk about ugly winters… But I like the place and I have a fair number of friends there. It’s a little far from home and the road trip options are pretty much limited to Chicago, but they do have White Castles, so I’ll say Minneapolis has a slightly more than slight chance…
  • Pittsburgh (visited once in 1997): Another one with an outside chance. Great place, hugely industrial and working class feel. Lots of hills and rivers. But it’s a bit isolated and I fear for the nightlife options. Very possible, still…

The second tier: Cleveland, St. Louis, Philadelphia…

Suggestions, comments, job offers, and links to cool web sites are solicited. Not that I’m planning to move or anything…

I Just Don’t Understand

Why do queer bars serve such shitty beer?

I don’t understand it. Beer is trendy. Fags are annoyingly trendy. Why, then, do queer bars all over the country (with the possible excpetion of Portland and Seattle) only serve the bottom level of crappy bottled domestic beer? This has been bugging me for years and years now. In some queer bars, the Powerhouse for example, the horizon is so limited that they consider Rolling Rock an import. Guess it’s all those import duties they have to pay when crossing the Mississippi…

Is it because long-neck bottles are supposed to be phallic symbols? Is it because the boys are afraid they won’t look butch enough drinking from a pint glass? I just don;t get it…

Other things I don’t understand today:

  • Whycome we never get cool storms from hurricanes on the west coast like they do back east?
  • Why is it that with all the construction workers in my neighborhood lately none of them are particularly attractive? Another myth shattered…
  • What is that damned strange chemical smell in my refrigerator?

A Quinn Martin Production

Should it disturb me that the biggest excitement of my week has been the fact that Channel 20 has brought back reruns of “The Streets of San Francisco” weeknights at 3AM? And that I’m taping them and watching them in bulk this weekend?

Another TV highlight from a TV weekend: “Yours Mine and Ours” this morning on TNT. Brought back memories of this Deadhead I went out with a few times several years ago. He had an odd fascination with this movie. I never could figure out why.

Friday night’s diversion was Jim Hightower at the Plumbers’ Union Hall with Sarah, followed by a few low-impact moments in the corner bar which included an uninspiring bout of oral sex in a back corner.

Today, I’m redesigning the site. You might have noticed.