Where I Live

So everyone’s buying houses lately. I want to buy a house. Of course, it will never happen in San Francisco for two big reasons, the first being that we’ll never be able to afford one here, and the second being that doing so would require much more of a commitment to San Francisco than I’m willing to make at this point…

But the apartment’s comfy, if small, and it’s time for an updated tour, I think:

 

This is the house where I live. It’s a different color now, but I don’t have a new picture handy. Inside is our mailbox…

This is the hall. It is long and narrow and has lots of Apple posters in it. It was rebuilt in 2001 to accommodate a new heating unit. Afterward, the hall has always been toasty warm, no matter how cold the rest of the apartment might be…

 

The front room is the office. This was where Otherstream and Murdering Mouth and all the other assorted websites live and breed…

 

We have a lot of books…

Next you come to the bedroom. It is very small, but quite adequate for purposes of sleeping, watching “Streets of San Francisco” re-runs in bed, and, ummm, other things…

There is also a bathroom. This is the room where we shower, release waste, and brush our teeth. It is also the room where Mark and I said that we loved each other for the very first time, but that’s a different story entirely (and it doesn’t involve watersports or scat, thanks)…

 

Now you’ve arrived in the living room. When the building was first built in 1912, this would have been the dining room. You can’t see the dish shelf, which is stocked with hundreds of videotapes. You can, however, see the porn, the DVDs, and the shelf of good juju…

 

We use the chairs for sitting, and the entertainment center for entertainment. And sometimes vice versa…

 

The back room (pardon the terminology) is the kitchen. It is the largest room in the place, and I like it. Probably because that’s where all the food is…

 

From the back door, you stepp onto the deck. This is where I smoke cigarettes and wish that the grill were being put to more use…

And that is my house. Thanks for visiting…

Where Alfred Walked

Sometimes it’s not enough that I married the cutest, geekiest boy I could find. Yes, sometimes I need to commune with large groups of obsessively geeky people in one room. Last night was one of those nights, and I found myself in the main library (being geeky, I live only four blocks away) watching a slideshow and presentation by the authors of this book…Yeah, it gave me a stiffy. They’ve painstakingly researched the geography of every Hitchcock film even vaguely related to the Bay Area, added maps and recent photos, and generally created by new favorite bathroom book. In short, they’ve done the same things I do when watching “Streets of San Francisco” reruns, all 120 of which I have on tape, and when researching supermarkets…It was exciting…

Pop Culture Weekend

So yeah, being fully informed as to its location, we went and drove by Jimmy Stewart’s apartment from Vertigo last night after dinner…

Before dinner, of course, we’d relived our respective childhoods, me in the living room with a Banana Splits marathon on Boomerang, and Mark in the office with his new Robotech DVDs. I must admit I’d forgotten how good Jan-Michael Vincent’s ass looked when he was parading around Danger Island in those 1969 pants which gave him the perpetual wedgie. And how stupid those Arabian Nights cartoons were…

Dinner seemed a bit of an afterthought in the midst of all that, but it was pretty good too…

Stupid Potheads

I was having a conversation with a friend and co-worker the other day and mentioned in context that I would never marry a pot-smoker. My friend was horrified and demanded an explanation. This has happened to me before, on several occasions. The funny thing is that if I’d announced that I’d never marry a cigarette-smoker (you know, a LEGAL vice), no one would have batted an eye and the chorus of “I understand completely” would have been near-unanimous…

Note that I didn’t say that I thought marijuana should be illegal (I don’t), but that I didn’t particularly care for the idea of a user sharing MY OWN HOME with me. But I guess that, as a San Franciscan, I should be more tolerant when choosing which vices I want to be surrounded by, rating them by way of some pre-approved social acceptability scale rather than by how personally offensive or annoying I find them…

Sorry. That conversation has been bugging me since Thursday and I had to get it off my chest…

Tolerance

As I spent the $138 to replace my car window this morning, I thought about how lucky I was to be getting this education about those less fortunate than myself. Some might say that I was the victim. Far from it. The individual who smashed my window is clearly the victim here: the victim of a society which refuses to accept and embrace his alternative lifestyle.

I think it’s very important that — rather than placing blame on people who make a valid lifestyle choice and become thieves and substance abusers — we try to understand the reasons that they’ve chosen to live this way.

After all, it’s our fault that they made these choices, and our fault that we can’t accept them. By flaunting our jobs and the meager paychecks they bring, by our stubborn desire to live within the law and the rules of society, we make those who do not accept these rules uncomfortable, sometimes to the point where they just naturally lash out. Their self-esteem is at stake, dammit, and we need to understand what they’re feeling when they raid the broken-down cars and homes we’ve had the audacity to pay for through our labors.

Homelessness, poverty, and addiction are not crimes, after all. Therefore, can it really be considered a crime when some homeless, poor, or addicted individuals behave in a fashion which endangers the health, safety, and property of other people? Of course not. To suggest that such behavior is criminal would be to suggest that these individuals must take responsibility for their own actions. That wouldn’t be very tolerant, would it?

The fact that most poverty victims do not choose crime or violence as a lifestyle is immaterial. It is our responsibility as sensitive and caring San Franciscans (and as citizens of Mother Earth) to support all diverse lifestyle choices, even those which our misguided belief systems may suggest are incompatible with the rights of others. Who are we to make value judgments about those who feel the need to take what is ours?

Remember that tolerance is not just about accepting the rights of others to live as they see fit. It’s about supporting them in every aspect of their choice and making sure that there are no repercussions whatsoever for the individual making the choice. Any repercussions for adjacent individuals, of course, are irrelevant, as attention to these might stifle the freedom and creativity of those choosing alternative paths.

Think about it:

  • The next time you’re mugged, consider giving just a little more than the mugger asks for. Offer him dinner, perhaps, or try to find him a place to stay for the night. Like most privileged individuals, you have a spare bedroom, don’t you?
  • If you step in excrement on the sidewalk, take a minute to think about the differently-housed individual whose principles wouldn’t allow him to check into a shelter which wouldn’t accept his dog as a resident. Alternative co-housing communities are not the answer for everyone, and again, you have a spare bedroom, don’t you?
  • When a car pulls up next to you (or parks in front of your house) with music playing at ear-splitting volume, understand that the youngster inside is merely expressing himself a manner he feels comfortable with. Respect it. Similarly, when children are running around the supermarket screaming and banging into you, it’s because their parents also want them to know the beauty of self-expression.
  • Lastly, when confronted with the possibility of physical harm, always assure the attacker that you understand and accept his lifestyle choice. He’ll eventually respect and admire you for it, although he may not demonstrate this immediately.

People make choices. The fact that you may have chosen to work for a living and make something of your life doesn’t make you superior to someone who’s chosen an alternative path. Just different. Understand this difference and help it thrive. There’s no right or wrong here. This is San Francisco.

I know I feel a lot better having spent my money learning another valuable lesson about the community of man. To think, I might have frittered away that $138 on food or clothing for myself.

Instead, I bought glass. In that glass, I found a miraculous reflection.

Irrelevant

OK, does anyone REALLY believe that Dubya and his cowboy posse start quaking in their boots whenever San Francisco or San Jose or Berkeley passes a resolution condemning military action? Oh mercy. The folks in Berkeley don’t want a war. We’d better pack it in right now, because as Berkeley goes, so goes the nation, right?

Note that the preceding statement has nothing to do with my attitude on any military action, pending or otherwise, but merely with my unending amusement that some city councils believe the federal government has any interest whatsoever in their positions on foreign policy…

Mr. Robinson

So here’s to you, Mr. Robinson: you might have a little more credibility if you weren’t too chickenshit to include a valid email address in your repeated messages. But screamers like you only like it if no one can answer back or call you on your bullshit, right? I imagine you’re a rather timid, ineffectual sort who can only string two words into a sentence when doing so anonymously. But if that’s your trip, more power to you. I understand how much easier it is to win an argument when you don’t let anyone else play. At least I get a chuckle every couple of weeks…