Birthday Bash

Just a quickie note to make official that the second annual Planet SOMA Birthday Gathering will convene at 8PM on Thursday 10 August. All are welcome; gifts are not encouraged. The location, once again, is Tad’s Steaks on Powell. A more suitable invitation will be forthcoming. For now, read about last year’s if you like…

Randomly Monday

Yes, I know it’s been over a week since I wrote anything substantial, and yes, it’s been almost as long since I’ve answered any email. I promise to catch up Monday night. It’s been hectic. Really hectic. This, of course, has the twin effects of (a) giving me nothing interesting to write about and (b) leaving me no time to write about the aforementioned nothing anyhow.

The big excitement of today (other than getting a lot done, of course) was learning that Apple Jacks now have little green things in with the little pinkish-orange things. So now I know that in addition to tasting better, the Safeway brand is all one color. Interesting Sunday, huh?

Still hoping to see anyone and everyone who might show up at Thursday night’s birthday bash. In case you missed it, the time is 8PM on Thursday 10 August. The place is Tad’s Steaks on Powell near Post. Informal attire is required, and gifts are not encouraged. Vegans are welcome but may find limited food options.

Bed. Me. Now.

Find Me an 18-Year-Old

It’s quite important that I find an 18-year-old to have sex with on my birthday tomorrow. You see, I’m turning 36, and I’ve become just a little obsessed with the idea that it will finally be legal (in California) for me to do the nasty with someone half my age. So if you’re 18 and willing, please show up at Thursday’s birthday bash.

You don’t have to do much, just enough so that it would have been illegal if I were 34 and you were 17. Or even if we were both 60 in North Carolina or about 20 other states.

A skateboard is optional, but it might result in a bonus…

Upon Hitting Age 36

Realizations upon hitting age 36:

  • Any email message which states “this is not spam” invariably is.
  • Most people will never realize that the same logic which states “Windows is the most popular operating system, therefore it’s the best” would also suggest that McDonald’s is the most fabulous restaurant in the world.
  • I will probably never do anything which will get me in the history books and I’m probably glad.
  • I will probably never have a live-in boyfriend and I’m definitely glad.
  • There are approximately five other people on the planet who share my fascination with old supermarkets and I’ve probably spoken with at least four of them already.
  • San Francisco will never again seem as exciting to me as it did in 1992 or even 1996.
  • Los Angeles is not really such a bad place.
  • Neither is Richmond, Virginia.
  • I still like Chicago and Detroit better.
  • There will always be yuppies, no matter what the currently fashionable term. They will always be annoying. And they will always be an easy target.
  • I will probably not wake up this morning to find a 21-inch monitor has mysteriously appeared on my doorstep and just as mysteriously has managed not to be stolen.
  • I do not get tired of The Simpsons no matter how many times I’ve seen each and every episode. And I’ve seen them all very many times.
  • I cannot say the same thing about “Third Rock from the Sun”.
  • I will always feel just a little insecure and just a tad melancholy right around my birthday.
  • Not to mention just a touch self-indulgent.

Birthday bash tonight at Tad’s Steaks on Powell Street. We get in the $8.59 steak line at 8PM.

How Do People Find Anything?

It’s no wonder so many people get so frustrated trying to find information online. They just can’t spell, which is a big problem in a text-based environment.

I’m not talking about typos (for which I’m famous) here; typos aren’t generally searched over and over in a short period of time. It’s particularly true of those people looking for smut. Searches for “masterbation”, “anyl sex”, and “nippel” are particularly noteworthy this month, just because I get such a clear picture of some salivating idiot sitting there typing them with one hand, getting more and more excited looking at that misspelled dirty word. He’s no doubt masterbating or fingering his anys with the other hand.

The lost souls who think everything online must be spelled as one word (just like email domain names) are fun too. I bet there’s not a single page on this site which contains the words “gaysexgalleries” or “southofmarketsexclubs” or even “pussylickinglesbianpix”.

And just how does someone get to this site thinking I have pictures of lesbians engaged in cunnilingus anyway? Not that there’s anything wrong with said activity, but the sight thereof doesn’t generally get my ‘nads racing since I’m neither a dyke nor a straight guy.

On the other hand, those of you who searched for things like “grits” and “safeway” and “brain-dead yuppie scum” have my eternal respect. You get it. Your typos are forgiven.

Lastly, to the flaming morons who keep searching for “young boy nude” and “naked children” over and over again, I regret to inform you that the only young child in any sort of nude pose on this site is me, circa 1967. It’s a cute picture, but I covered my one-inch weenie with my hands, even though it was probably not even erect at the time. Not what you were looking for, huh?

Yes, I’ve covered today’s topic before, but I have a brand new search engine, and very little imagination this week. Maybe next time I’ll tackle the people who don’t realize that email is allowed to have multiple paragraphs with actual space between them and entire words instead of just abbreviations and shorthand.

Pictures of the birthday bash coming soon. I promise. We were all clothed and over 21. Sorry…

18 August 2000

I love it when my babies go live

What I don’t like today is department stores. I didn’t think it would be a major achievement to buy a box of plain white handerchiefs as part of my dad’s borthday present yesterday. I was wrong.

Macy’s had no hankies at all. Neither did Neiman-Marcus. Nordstom had nothing but a rack of oddly-colored things which looked more like ascots than something for expelling snot. If I’d had time, I would have gone to the Mission. If they’d been options, I might even have visited Target or Sears, which don’t really count as department stores, I guess, because they sell actual useful items.

From the mailbag:

I stumbled onto your “Jack London” page, and was taken aback by your “diss” of my employer, Spaghetti Warehouse.

Unlike numerous competitors, who use frozen, canned, and pre-cooked products, we cook all of our pastas and sauces fresh every day. Sure, we have recipes we follow, so there is an element of consistency, but we are not a paint-by-numbers establishment. There is a fair amount of creativity given to each restaurant, and we are always developing new menu items. To call us “generic” is a stretch, since we go to great expense to provide freshly-prepared food.

Please save the “generic” label for establishments who don’t even cook their own pasta and sauces (can you say “Olive Garden?”)

My apologies for “dissing” this poor, defenseless corporation. My apologies also that I still prefer Kelly’s Coffee Shop to an exciting and unique place like the Spaghetti Warehouse.

Sites worth looking at today:


It strikes me that, on the rare occasion that I publish a bit of email on this page, it may look like I trash everyone who contacts me. I don’t. I think I tend to publish email which is negative simply because it looks a little self-absorbed to publish all the “you rock” and “I love you” messages. In fact, I rarely publish any of it, positive or negative, unless it strikes a chord related to something I want to write about.

I’d imagine that most people don’t really care about my email one way or another, but I’m sorry if the quotes I use roughly once a year make me sound particularly nasty toward readers or anything. I usually only respond harshly or sarcastically when someone is either:

  • Really idiotic or obnoxious to me first (in which case I have a really short fuse), or…
  • Seriously overreacting to some passing reference (which causes me to do pretty much the same thing they did), or…
  • Taking something competely out of context after reading one page of the site (like assuming I’m a right-wing straight homophobe when I’m, in fact, a queer homophobe with leftist sympathies).

Birthday Photos, Finally

In case you care, here are pictures from my birthday bash at Tad’s 12 days ago. Sorry for the delay, and thanks to Sarah for these, because the pictures I took really sucked…


It was fun. We had a flesh-based feast at Tad’s, followed by dessert at David’s Deli, both of which are becoming traditions. Met some great people, has good converastion, and actually put faces with several names. I did not, alas, do the nasty with an 18-year-old as planned, but I was happy with the evening all the same.

Yer humble host’s annual birthday picture #36…

A Break

Leaving town for a few days tomorrow. I may have someting exciting or interesting to say when I get back. I make no promises.

I’m thinking of taking a break from these front page journal entries for a little while. Those of you who have been reading them lately might get the feeling that I really did this about three months ago. I’m not sure what happened. For one thing, I got a little lazy. I haven’t had much to say. And it could just be that my life isn’t particularly interesting these days and I haven’t been faking it very well.

I should rephrase that. My life is quite interesting to me. I just can’t imagine it being all that interesting to anyone else right now. Not that it was necessarily all that entertaining to begin with.

So I’m going to spend a little time concentrating on other things, I think. I’m going to work on updating, editing, and significantly re-working the “innards” of this site, for starters. I’m also going to try to do some writing off-site. I may even do the occasional journal entry if the mood strikes and I actually have something to say. But I’m not making any promises about that right now either.

You never know. Inpsiration might strike in just a couple of days. It may take longer. This is not a retirement announcement. It’s just a little vacation of unspecified length.

If you’ve just gotta have that journal fix right now, you might check out some links or even some re-runs.

I’ll be back soon…

To Redding


Most people just sort of assume it will get cooler as you get closer to the mountains. Most people haven’t been to Redding in August. It’s a great place, but it’s hot as hell there. When I arrived on Friday afternoon, it was 100 degrees. It got even warmer on Saturday. This was the first two-night road trip I’ve taken in a while, and it was much more fun. I had plenty of time to see everything and even do a little reading.

Friday afternoon’s drive took me through Farifield (Chick-Fil-A) and then Williams and Willows (just to see what was there). I was beat by the time I arrived in Redding and I checked into the first Motel 6 off the highway, which was an expensive mistake. But I figured it would be a good weekend when “Keeping Up Appearances” just happened to start as I turned on the TV.


After a quick dinner, I went exploring in an old Safeway, marveled at the neon motels on old highway 99, visited California’s only ShopKo, and drove through what was left of downtown.


Heading down old 99 south of the city, I made a wrong turn from hell and ended up on some godforsaken winding road to nowhere. Being a guy, I didn’t ask directions. Not that there was anyone or anyplace to ask anyway. After a while I got out of what I later learned was something called “Churn Creek Bottom” and headed back for the Motel 6. On the way, I passed not one, but two sobriety checkpoints which convinced me I was way too tired to go out that night, so I read my book and went to sleep.

In Redding


I woke up early Saturday and did more exploring after moving from the expensive Motel 6 to the cheap Americana Lodge downtown. It’s a nice enough place, even though that the air conditioner smelled funny, the TV was in the closet, and one of my night tables was a dorm-size refrigerator.

My new digs only set me back thirty bucks and provided the twin benefits of being a block from the queer bar and next door to a skateboard shop. This would, I figured, allow me to get sexually frustrated in the afternoon and to pick up a willing outlet for it that night. Redding is full of scruffy, adorable, lost-looking boys. I like that in a town.


I covered a lot of ground Saturday, from Red Bluff to Anderson, from Shasta to Shasta Lake City to Shasta Dam, and from one end of Redding to every other end.


After driving around a lot, I decided to walk some, and I visited the creepy Redding Mall. This was one weird place. Essentially, the city put a roof over about three blocks of Main Street downtown, a misguided act which other small towns (Rock Hill SC) also committed in the 1970s. If “saving” downtown was the goal, it didn’t work. The mall was almost empty save for a half-stocked Rite-Aid (which hadn’t even bothered to take down its old Payless Drugstore signs inside) and a collectibles store.


I had dinner at a place called Buz’s Crab, which might be my favorite restaurant north of Sacramento now. It’s a cheap place specializing in (surprise) seafood. Loved it. Reminded me of Libby Hill in North Carolina, which is a good memory to have.


I tried to take a nap. I didn’t succeed and I watched The Seven-Year Itch instead. Hit the Club 501 on Center Street at about 11:00. There were about 10 people there, which I guessed was about half the queer population of Redding. The bartender, who was nice and bought me beers, told me the sparse turnout stemmed from the fact that every Sodomite in town had been at the pride festival in Chico all day.

It was a nice bar, tiny and (legally) smoke-filled. There was a juke box with the requisite sucky faggot disco which I often forget is so common outside the city. The crowd was friendly and some of it was even attractive. The bartender told me that the building housing the bar had originally been Redding’s first hotel, and later its first brothel.

Getting laid seemed less and less worth the effort by 1:00, so I went home and slept. I stand by my decision.

Redding, Chico, Paradise, and More


I checked out of the motel by 10:00 on Sunday, checking carefully for lice, and grabbed a quick breakfast before heading south toward Chico. When I left I-5 at Red Bluff, I left freeways behind for most of the day.


Chico was less exciting than I wanted it to be. I expected there to be cute college boys (like the one from the Doggie Diner) everywhere, especially since classes were starting Monday. There weren’t many, so I drove to Paradise, which proved less idyllic than I’d imagined. It wasn’t a bad place, just not a terribly exciting one. Ditto for Oroville. I wanted to look around Marysville and Yuba City some more, but it was getting late. I’d been there before anyway.


For some stupid reason, I decided to take I-80 home rather than my usual Sacramento-SF route through the Delta. I realized it was a mistake as I found myself doing about 15MPH through Vacaville. I finally got off in Fairfield and just drove through town. Things got better south of Vallejo and it was alarmingly traffic-free through Berkeley and Emeryville, until I hit the Bay Bridge. But by that time, I was so glad to be enshrouded in fog that I didn’t even care.


Random thoughts on Redding:

  • It’s a very white place and people sound like they’re from Minnesota. Fortunately, it’s more white trash than white yuppie.
  • I love the fact that there’s only one Starbucks downtown and it looks a little seedy, housed as it is in a former Long John Silver’s.
  • “Fast food” is an oxymoron here.
  • Redding and the surrounding area should be sort of a resort destination, but there didn’t seem to be any tourists anywhere, even at Shasta Dam (which was basically deserted).
  • Housing is just as cheap as you imagine it would be.
  • It sure is nice to see some trees scattered about, not to mention a landscape which isn’t quite so brown. Oops, I meant “golden”…

I wouldn’t want to live there, but I’ll probably go back to visit. It probably won’t be August when I do so.