Sex, Resolutions, and Things I Love

I made a boy grits this morning, after having been awake with him most of the night. Use your imagination…

It was a little odd. I haven’t brought anyone much home in a long time, much less allowed them to spend the night and get the whole breakfast package. I had no intention of doing so last night either. I was already worn out at midnight, and I really intended to have one quick beer at My Place, maybe avail myself of the backroom, and come home to sleep.

Anyway, I had fun. He was cute as a bug’s ear, intelligent, and even nice. I barely noticed that he was (gasp) 13 years younger than me. I wouldn’t even mind a second go-round, which means I’ll probably never hear from him again.

All the same, I sure would like to have had just a little bit more sleep last night…

Resolutions for July:

  • Quit smoking.
  • Answer the email a bit faster.
  • Pursue design and writing jobs more aggressively.
  • Eliminate the part-time job I hate so much.
  • Do the laundry once a month whether I need to or not.
  • Obtain health insurance with the money I’ve saved by not smoking.

I should be able to do all those things, shouldn’t I?

Things I love today:

  • Safeway Select Garlic Lovers’ Salsa
  • The idea of being asleep in half an hour or so.
  • Andy Griffith Mondays on Nick-at-Nite.

Superlatives du Jour

Best unexpected song heard in a queer bar this weekend:

  • “Ah Leah” by Donnie Iris.

Most idiotic comment heard on the Discovery Channel this weekend:

  • “If it weren’t for George Washington, it’s quite possible we’d all be speaking Canadian now.”

This Week in…

Until today, it had apparently happened to just about everyone in San Francisco but me. I was so excited that it was finally my turn to get hit in the head by a nice big gob of pigeon shit while walking down Seventh Street.

Other than that, though, it’s been a passable week. There was slutdom on Saturday night, followed by a different flavor of slutdom on Monday night, dinner and fireworks with Dan and Jamie on Tuesday night, and lots of sleep on Wednesday. I think I’ve recovered just in time for the upcoming weekend.

Sixteen years ago this week, I was dumping a boyfriend and actively seeking a replacement. Fourteen years ago this week, I was dealing with someone who sort of became a boyfriend but sort of didn’t. Thirteen years ago this week I was still dealing with him. Nine years ago this week, I had finally learned that having boyfriends was no fun and I was being a major slut on a two-month trip to Charlotte. Three years ago this week, I reconsidered briefly but I came to my senses pretty fast, and I’ve pretty much stayed sane ever sense.

While we’re in the archives (for this month’s “I can’t think of any original content” journal entry):

  • Twenty years ago this week, I stole my mom’s car. I was not yet 16. She suspected. It was not pretty.
  • Fifteen years ago this week, I quit being the rock and roll DJ at the local queer bar. I still stick by that decision and was proud of my stand to protect the downtrodden heterosexuals of the world.
  • Two years ago this week, I was taking on the idiots who wear giant backpacks in crowded bars at night. They continue to annoy me.
  • This week last year, I was having my annual midlife crisis. Let’s not speak of 1999 again. I didn’t enjoy most of it.

Poor Athertonians

My heart really goes out to the poor bluebloods in Atherton whose garden parties have been disturbed by construction noise. It must be very distressing to them, and a real comfort to know that their economic clout can put and end to construction on weekends and holidays.

I understand their pain, because my neighborhood faces construction noise every day, and now we’re going to start hearing it every night too, since CalTrans has scheduled freeway retrofit work outside my window from 4-10 AT NIGHT for the next two months or so. I hate to think of the effect this will have on MY garden parties.

Of course, I didn’t pay five or ten million bucks for my house, so my predicament is naturally less important than the one faced by Atherton’s residents. My only consolation is that the yuppie idiots in the shoddily-constructed live/work loft across the street probably will hear (and feel) even more of the pile drivers than I will.

Speaking of idiots, check out David K’s intersting take on these idiots. Yes, I was quoted. Yes, I would have been amused even if I hadn’t been quoted. May be your only chance to read a Carl Jung citation on a smut site.

While you’re looking around, you might also check out this great page on the TenderNob, from a pretty darned good all-around site.

I’m now waiting for the UPS guy to show up. I hate UPS. As a company, they elevate incompetence and bad customer service to epic proportions. But that’s another rant…

Tastes Like You Spent Minutes

Could there be a better comfort food than Jello No-bake Cheesecake? As my friend Jon used to say, “Mmmm. Tastes like you spent minutes.”

Not, mind you, that I was feeling particularly uncomfortable today. I just had one on the verge of expiring and I figured I deserved it for getting so much done this week. Of course, had I gotten nothing at all done, I also would have believed I deserved it, as a stress-reliever.

This would explain my ample frame, no doubt.

Speaking of pre-packaged dessert products, time is running out for your submissions to the next installment of Did You Bring Bottles. I’ve already had one anoymous bit of mail with lots of great information, not to mention a couple with actual names attached to them. You could be next.

Speaking of food, I’m once again pondering the idea of my birthday gathering in August. Last year, I invited any intersted complete strangers (and a few friends), and it was pretty cool. I’m thinking of Tad’s again, just because it works so well when you have no idea how many people will show up. Other suggestions welcome. Gifts are neither required nor encouraged.

I’m also interested in hearing from anyone who could offer me some fascinating journal ideas, since I apparently have none right now. If only I were in the mood to go out, get drunk, and do something (or someone) stupid. Alas, I’m not. Oh well…

Gold Country

This one was just too much to resist. Came up with lots of exciting photos while driving through Gold Country on Sunday. An email correspondent pointed out that a vintage Safeway could be found in Pollock Pines, and that’s about as much of an excuse as I need for a quickie road trip.

In case you’re planning to send some of your friends or co-workers there, Jackass Hill Road (and presumably the hill itself) can be found off Highway 49 between Angel’s Camp and Sonora. It’s just down the road from the Glory Hole Center. What a convenient state California is! Jackass disposal and glory holes only a few miles apart.

Something of substance tomorrow, I promise.

I may not keep that promise.


OK, so the Jackass Hill Road sign just wasn’t all that funny after about five days. Sorry. I’ve been busy. I’m not sure what I’ve been busy DOING, but I sure have been busy.

I haven’t even had time to dig very far into the pile of books Adric sent me this week. That’s reserved for this coming weekend and should take about six months or so. I’m, talking a LOT of books.

Part of what I’ve been doing is research for Bottles (and the upcoming made for TV movie, no doubt). Lurking around all those college libraries, along with listening to a couple of friends talking about college registration, has uncovered a mildly nagging desire in me to go back to school. It’s reminded me that one of the situations in which I’m truly contented is when I’m researching some major project. You’d think there could be a career in that somewhere.

I’ve also been working. Two TV station sites, two porn sites, and miscellaneous other projects. I’ve also been eating horribly, which usually happens when I’m working a lot. But we had nice, healthy Ethiopian food on Friday night, so that cancels out all the crap, right?

Things I hate today:

  • Libraries which have everything I need stored in some inaccessible off-site warehouse.
  • My low-flow toilet (again).

Things I love today:

Radio Days


Eighteen years ago tonight I was on the radio for the first time. For some reason I always remember the anniversary. And before I go to bed, I’ll listen to “Big Science” by Laurie Anderson and think about how damned old I am and what a great album that was…

WUAG Greensboro, 1982-1984:


Yes, pictures are a great way to fill space when you don’t have much interesting to say. So what were you doing in June 1982? Could be a Message Board topic for someone, couldn’t it?

Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

I think I may be pregnant.

I’ve been known to put strange ingredients together and call it dinner, but tonight’s was just a little too weird. I coiuldn’t decide what to make and I ended up with cheese and eggs topped with garlic salsa, canned collard greens on the side, and toast. It was pretty good, actually.

And the greens should counteract the effects of the cheese and eggs.

Since I’m being (more) boring (than usual) this week, you should get out and go visiting or maybe create your own Planet SOMA in the message board. Either way, I’m going to bed.

Nighty night…

Hamburger Square

The last seedy hotel in Hamburger Square closed this week.

Hamburger Square was the closest thing to a skid row that Greensboro, North Carolina ever had. It got its name from two cheap diners, Jim’s Lunch and the California Sandwich Shop, which faced off on opposite sides of Elm and McGee for decades. This was the part of town where the few local drifters and winos lived. Until I was about 25, it was the only place in Greensboro I’d ever been panhandled.

I was always sort of drawn to the area, even as a kid. I liked the buildings and the seediness and the newsstand (with adult bookstore in the back) where I bought comic books and my dad bought the Washington Post. I liked the scary-looking people on the sidewalks and the railroad tracks and the old A&P. We lived in the suburbs, but I always begged to come along for rides downtown. I always wanted to eat in one of those divey old diners too. I never got the chance. This may be a good thing.

My great grandfather (who died about 20 years before I was born) had operated one of the hotels in the 1930s. It was pretty much a brothel, as its residents were largely prostitutes. I imagine my rather austere great grandmother was not amused at the thought of living there, but that’s how things were back then

My mom lived there for a few years as a little girl too. She used to be just a little embarrassed by it, but I think it now gives her just a little pride. We managed to get inside once when I was about 16 (with permission) and I took some great pictures.

My great grandfather’s old hotel is now a restaurant. The other buildings in Hamburger Square are being renovated one by one as expensive apartments, retail spaces, and restaurants. In Greensboro, a city which has bulldozed a disturbing amount of its past, this is probably a good thing, if only because it saves some great buildings.

But I sure do miss what Hamburger Square used to be. And I still find myself looking for it in just about every city I visit.

Randomly Monday

Mmmmm. Crawdad sandwich…

Long trip into the delta this weekend with Dan and Jamie for crawdad melts in Isleton, general prowling in Rio Vista and the other towns, and a stop in Vallejo to see just how cheap and pleasant it really is given all the current hype. Of course, I’ve been there before, many times, but this time we spent about an hour seeing just how far your housing dollar goes there. Verdict: pretty damned far.

How I won’t be spending Labor Day weekend…

Jonno’s pondering a trip to Burning Man. I’m not. It’s a great thing for the people who love it, what with no corporate sponsorships and all, and I’d never think of criticizing anyone for going. But for me, it sounds like just about as close as I’d ever get to hell on earth. The only camping I’ve ever done was the night I slept out on the deck because it was too hot inside. And that’s about as much camping as I’d ever WANT to do.

I have a hard enough time dealing with annoying people in comfortable surroundings. If you put me in the desert with a collection of ravers, granolas, nature-lovers, and the inevitable yuppie gawkers, someone would get killed. Probably me, as I’d be too weak to defend myself on a steady diet of trail mix and water.

Better words than I’m writing this week…

Commercial Archaeology

Thanks to Chuck in Columbia (who has some bitchin’ pictures on his site), I’ve now realized that I wasn’t smoking crack as a child and dreaming that Hardee’s restaurants used to look like this:

I’ve searched years for someone who remembered this particular design. There couldn’t have been many built because no one seems to remember them. Imagine my surprise when Chuck casually mentioned a “a pagoda-shaped Hardee’s” in Columbia. Of course, he had other things to say too, but this was a 20-year obsession.

My friends know my much-indulged hobby is commercial archaeology, or the unearthing of former chain-store prototypes, motels, fast food joints, etc. My supermarket fixation is only the tip of the iceberg. I’ve also been known to engage in such fascinating games as “find the former Sears” and “White Castle or White Tower”. Despite this fact, a few stout-hearted individuals are still willing to ride in a car with me.

The Hardee’s pagoda was one of the first warnings about my future hobby, way back when I was still in high school. Even then I’d ask people if they remembered that weird-looking Hardee’s on Battleground Avenue in Greensboro. I now know I wasn’t making it up. I am much relieved.

Happy Movie Morning

You’ve just got to love waking up on Friday morning to find All About Eve and Sunset Boulevard running back to back on AMC. Without this 8AM boost, I probably wouldn’t have gotten nearly so much done today.

The schizophrenic nature of freelance work: I spent my Friday alternating between work on a quite respectable (family-oriented, even) website and creating a series of porn stories for hire. I wish I could say that the switching back and forth made the website sexier and the stories more aesthetically-pleasing, but all it really did was give me a headache.

By 4:00, I found myself typing <A href=”shoot that load” TARGET=”_mouth”> over and over again. It was just plain scary.

But tonight, I think Jamie and I may have found my new favorite San Francisco restaurant: Cajun Pacific, in the depths of the fog belt at 47th and Irving. It’s tiny, the food’s good, the music’s good and the staff makes the place feel like a joint that three or four cool friends decided one night (while drunk) to open and operate together.

I had fried green tomatoes for the very first time tonight, and I now realize this is a dish which deserved to have a movie named after it. Sorry, recent sextoys, but this was the best thing I’ve put in my mouth in a long time. The jambalaya was too dry, like it is in about half of all Cajun restaurants. I can forgive that. The cook was drinking a beer while he worked. I liked that. And there wasn’t a slumming yuppie to be seen. I loved that.

I sure did like this place. I will be eating there many times in the future. I should probably be shot for mentioning the place publicly, but it’s pretty safe from the yuppie invasion because (a) it’s too far out in the avenues, (b) the food is appropriately priced, (c) it’s BYOB, and (d) there’s just not enough room to see or be seen, much less to “network”.

I’m gonna sleep now, strangely satisfied with the fact that I’ve eaten crawdads twice in six days, and not aplogizing that a majority of tonight’s links were from the Internet Movie Database.

Violating My Ride

So my car’s charmed life is finally over. As longtime readers may remember, my old car was a crime magnet which had been broken into many times, one of which ended in the fire which sent it to car heaven. But the most recent one had been immune for 3 1/2 years.

Until Friday night, that is, when it lost its front driver’s side window. Nothing else was gone, of course, because there was nothing else to take, so it was essentially just an $89 annoyance. And I was probably due, since I’d gone so long without problems.

Strangely enough, I’d just mentioned the miraculous record to Jamie earlier on Friday night. Right after, we discovered that someone had tried to get into my trunk this week too, but all they managed was to break the lock so I can only open it with the inside latch now. If I were a paranoid sort, I’d think someone was out to get me. But I’m probably just getting three-plus years of hassles in one week by coincidence.

It still doesn’t faze me, though. I’m no longer horrified at the site of shattered glass, like I was ten years ago in New York. Now it’s just a pain in the ass, part of the price of having a car in the city without also having a garage to put it in.

Thing I love today:

  • Filemaker Pro. Again. Always. This program will eventually save the world, even though I’m not yet sure how.

Things I hate today:

  • Safeway Select Fat-free Peach Yogurt. Bleccch…
  • It’s hot and sunny. Which makes me sullen and irritable.
  • Having to drive around with my window closed (until the glue sets) while it’s hot and sunny and I’m sullen and irritable.
  • No good movies this afternoon while it’s hot and sunny and I’m sullen and irritable.