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30 August 2005
I was going to write about the
usual twaddle and ennuis of my life, but the hurricane disaster is just too awful.
Poor Chimpy. He had to cut his vacation short to “manage”
the crisis from Washington. I hope more of the MSM picks up the story of how the war on Iraq forced cuts in the Army Corps
of Engineers’ budget, which meant that their work on the levees in Louisiana was postponed or delayed. Making America
safer.
28 August 2005
Poor New Orleans. As I write
this, the hurricane force winds have yet to hit. I can’t imagine what tonight will be like.
And now for the trivia of my
life:
Farmers’ market report:
beef, no chicken (Hoffman Game Birds was on vacation), a whole-wheat Pullman loaf from della Fattoria, Romano beans, and paw paws. We got a flat of O’Henry peaches (they weigh over a pound apiece) and two flats of dry-farmed tomatoes (Early Girls
and San Marzanos). I’ve already turned the San Marzanos into purée to freeze for winter consumption. The Early Girls
that I don’t eat right now I will freeze whole for the winter.
The light has changed, autumn
seems upon us. Even though I’ve had the heater on every morning, the days are warming up, and the fog’s grip is
loosening. I spent Saturday afternoon in Dolores Park briefing dull cases and upgrading my tan. No touching resulted. Maybe
because the look of dismay on my face at the antics of the Gays in the park. Loud and bitchy and drunk does not mean witty,
boys.
And bitchy: $3.08 a gallon for
premium gas nowadays. I thought Operation Enduring Freedom (don't hear that moniker much anymore, do we?) was going to bring
oil down to $20 a barrel, not $70.
I spent the day with my family,
helped my dad wash my car, played catch with my nephew, and spit-roasted two chickens (skewered together with rosemary branches
from the overgrown bush by the back gate). We had an odd mix of Murikan and Mediterranean: three-bean salad, green salad,
a potato-tomato gratin, a chickpea salad with garlic and parsley, corn-on-the-cob, and my herby-garlicky chicken. Spanish
rosé. Coffee ice cream pie in the backyard under the pecan tree.
En effet, ce week-end n’était pas mal.
25 August 2005
I’ve already dropped one
class. I’m up to my elbows in résumés, cover letters, transcripts, and writing samples. I’m bidding on 34 slots
for on-campus interviews, and all the employers have different requirements. It forced me to skip the gym last night, which
I resent. I have to zip up to the copy shop before class to make 19 copies of my writing sample, I have to ask a few people
if they’ll be my references, I have to collate everything, and I have drop it off in some campus basement I’ve
never been to before. There are a few slots I’m not strictly eligible for, as I’m not in the top 10% or even top
15% of my class, but I’m hoping that my job experience will count for something. Wish Daddy luck.
I wish I were in sunny Provincetown
instead of chilly San Franci. I have the heater running this morning, and I'm putting on a sweater and a light jacket before
I brave the brisk and foggy outdoors. Am I merely having post-vacation blues, or do I just hate school again? I hope it’s
the former. Needless to say, there is no substantive touching to report.
Pictures of my Oregon "camping"
trip to follow.
23 August 2005
I didn’t remember my parents’
anniversary even though I had two long phone conversations with them yesterday. They always play a little game to see which,
if any, of their ungrateful children will remember that blessed day. Just to test us, they won’t mention it for weeks.
Fortunately, my little sister called to remind me, so I’m back in the will.
I'm also back in school. Early
19th century Supreme Court opinions are like sleeping pills (see, e.g., Martin v. Hunter’s Lessee, 14 U.S. 304
(1816)). It led me to the most delicious nap yesterday afternoon on my Eames Sofa Compact. I’m hoping that law
review won’t be two semesters of scheduling conflicts, but it’s shaping up that way.
I gave up and re-lit the pilot
light on my heater. Cold, low, wet fog last night, even down here in Hayes Valley. I saw lots of down jackets in the
Castro last night and wish I had brought one too.
22 August 2005
I'm back from the camping/film festival in Oregon. I had a great time.
Swam in the river every day. Did a few things I probably shouldn't have (I blame the bourbon and take no personal responsibility
whatsoever). Made new friends. Saw old ones. Received an indecent proposition from a surprising source. Didn't do my schoolwork,
thus this advice: don't try to read Marbury v. Madison in a hurry on the morning of your first Con Law class. Self-sabotage,
anyone?
17 August 2005
I’m finally home again,
back to my quiet bedroom, my comfy bed, my good tea, and my comics in the morning. I’m in denial that school starts
tomorrow, but I bought my books (most of them) for next semester ($372.50), and I had the big ones cut up and three-hole-punched
(another $22.50). I have to read and brief my first cases for class tomorrow, fix up my résumé, research potential employers,
edit my writing sample, update Windows on my laptop, and pack for a possible camping trip in Oregon this weekend. If I actually go on the trip, I’ll have enough frequent flyer miles for a trip to Europe.
Impressions of my time in New
York:
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Friday morning I flew into Newark from Montréal, walked from the Port Authority Bus Terminal to my friend’s office
in Chelsea. It was delightfully cool in NY compared to Montréal. We took the Jitney to Southampton, went for a swim in the
pool, had a drink, and took off on back roads through potato fields and privet hedge farms and McMansions to the fabulous
Almond. Since my hosts are regulars, we only had to wait an hour for a table. As the evening passed, the heterosexuals thinned
out and the gays took over. I fell asleep to the sound of rain hissing on the leaves. Saturday: the pool, the beach, grocery
shopping at Schmidt’s (along with someone’s uniformed maids), a little cooking in the afternoon, and a dinner
party for ten friends. I made my famous Carlzpacho (a very thin gazpacho, served, properly, in a glass, with a nice shot of
vodka). I also made the special birthday request: German chocolate cake. Sunday: a trip to the outlet malls at Tanger (!),
more time in the pool, and the movies.
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Monday we went back to town. I went to Parke & Ronen for a little clothes shopping, to the Union Square Farmer’s
Market, to Thé Adoré for some tea, to Kitchen Arts & Letters, and to the Met to see the Fragonards (I’ve been reading
Philippe Sollers’ Liberté du XVIIIème). Since the Met was closed, I went to the new MOMA (the central circulation
spaces are like a grandly bland sleek mall) to see the Cézanne and Pissarro exhibit), then met an old friend for drinks at
Angel’s Share (a nice bar hidden inside a tacky Japanese restaurant in the East Village), and then for a tiny macrobiotic
dinner at Souen.
-
Up at 4:30 Tuesday morning to catch an early flight home. I volunteered to be bumped (and earn a free round-trip ticket
in the contiguous US), so I spent a lot of time in the standby lines. So much glamour.
11 August 2005
Another hot day. We had
breakfast again on the terrace. The host of the B&B paid me a nice complement when he told me that the note I left him
last night was in perfect French--no errors! He was surprised because I don't speak French very well now. I think I speak
it fairly fluently, but my accent is so bad that no one can understand me. I might as well be barking at them like a dog.
Anyhow, I went to the Canadian Centre for Architecture to see the exhibit on Montreal in the '60s. And I may have
had a shopping spree at Simon's. I don't know how I'm going to get all that crap into my suitcase. I did have a little visit
with the Kiwi to clear the air. I'm going to miss him. I don't think I would have allowed myself to spend so much time with
him if he lived in San Francisco or if he were single.
I finally found a good gym, a gym that I would join if I lived
here. Good equipment, nice space, friendly members. Having a beer in the afternoon is a good way of ensuring that you don't
have a productive workout. A lesson I should have learned by now.
I finally had the Quebec specialty, poutine, which
is French fries, cheese curds, and gravy. I don't need to have that ever again.
Tomorrow: Newark, Manhattan, and then
Southhampton. I think I'll be on the road for about 10 hours in all.
10
août 2005
More Montreal:
Did
not get much sleep last night, but breakfast on the terrace of the B&B was nice.
We
went for a long walk through Old Montreal, which was architecturally interesting, but full of tourist schlock. We heard a
nice organ recital at Notre-Dame Basilica, and saw lots of seminarians on parade there (we tried to peel one off from the
group, but their minders were too observant). We walked up to the Plateau and had a nice Greek lunch outdoors on rue Prince
Arthur, and then a visit to the internet shop, where my Kiwi got bad news by e-mail, which meant that our time together is
over.
I
had a nice nap during a thunderstorm, and then hit the gym. I tried to have dinner at La Binerie Mont-Royal, but they were
closing. L’Avenue was too crowded, so I walked down Rue St. Denis, had a consolatory passion fruit sorbet, and then
found L’Express, which was exactly the bistro the doctor had ordered. Red lacquered walls, chic clientele, snappy stainless
steel bar. I ate at the counter (even though I was by far the most underdressed person there—I got a double critical
once-over from an elegant middle-aged couple—from scruffy beard, to t-shirt, to backpack, to sneakers, and back. Well,
the t-shirt was a little tight, and perhaps my pierced nipple was too much in evidence). The waiter, however, was an old pro
who joked with me in French. I had a cold artichoke soup with basil oil and toasted almonds, and then chicken with chanterelles,
and a nice glass of rosé.
Tomorrow:
something besides the gay village and the Plateau.
9 August 2005
Howdy from Montreal. I've
been on the road for the past few days: Sonoma County, then Toronto, and now Montreal. I haven't found an internet access
shop (what's the real name of those places?) that seemed reliable until now. This is the first one I've found that has an
up-to-date version of Firefox.
I liked Toronto, but I don't know if I need to go there again. I saw a pen pal (and
former blogger). He was more handsome in person than his pictures. No touching. He took me on a nice walk through Chinatown,
Kensington, Little Italy, and West Queen West. I liked Cabbagetown the best. Unfortunately, the St. Lawrence Market was closed
when I was there, so I didn't get to visit it, but I found some of the famous mustard elsewhere.
Montreal seems like
an odd cross between the U.S. and Europe, with a lot of the nice Canadian sensibleness thrown in. I love the little B&B
where I'm staying. It's half the price of my Toronto hotel and twice as nice. My young Kiwi friend is here, too, so we're
going to hang out this evening. He's going to take me on a little tour of town tomorrow. It's nice to see a familiar face
in an unfamiliar town.
5 August 2005
Another lovely palindromic date
for us to savor, and so soon after the new moon. I’ve used all that energy to clean and toss out old stuff and get the
whole place shipshape before my trip.
I should be on the road by now,
but last night I initiated the hands-on portion of my South Pacific Outreach Project (SoPOP) with the young Kiwi. I
wanted to show him a little bit of San Francisco he hadn't already seen. I took him on the California Street Cable Car to
the top of Nob Hill, and then to the Cable Car Barn to see the big wheels turning the cables (so geeky, I know, but still
fun), and then up Macondray Lane (aka Barbary Lane from the Tales of the City), and then for a couple of drinks in
the dark of Spec’s Bar on Columbus, and then, since every decent restaurant around there was full, we tried Canteen
(alas, same story), so we went for Indian food in the Tenderloin. After dinner, he suggested that I either needed to put him
back on BART or find him a place to spend the night in the city. What do you think I chose? I made him a lovely breakfast
in the morning: organic eggs, wood-oven bread, homemade quince jelly, and fresh peaches (I give good trick, remember?). He
didn’t leave until noon. I'm hoping to see him next week in Montreal.
Time to hit the road for Sonoma.
3 August 2005
I’m having another
outbreak of persistent vagabondage: I took off yesterday to visit my sister & her family in the smoking hot Central Valley.
She warned me not to leave San Francisco in the afternoon but I didn’t listen. Consequently, I spent a few hours in
traffic in the hot sun, listening to an endless, breathless recap of the Air France plane crash in Toronto. A lucky escape.
My sister and her current
husband were shocked when they saw my big new tattoos. They were a little relieved when I told them they're
only temporary. My brother-in-law barbequed, and I took care of the veggies and salad. We watched "Mean Girlds" and slaked
our thirst with margaritas. My nephew is getting bigger every time I see him. He loves to watch me cook, which is how I was
at that age (according to legend).
I spent a long morning
at their kitchen table, planning my next trip with guidebooks, the internet and the phone. I’ve got all my reservations
lined up and made contact with my erstwhile pen pal in Toronto. I’ve paid all my bills (but I somehow haven’t
mailed them). I still have to figure out a plan for my date with the Kiwi tomorrow night. He wants to go to a "show" or something.
I hope that show involves a little touching. He already told me that he doesn’t have any classes on Friday morning .
. .
1 August 2005
It has been a long weekend. After
work on Friday I cleaned my apartment until my knuckles bled. It looks pretty good. My friends arrived from NY about 10:30
PM. They were starving, so we went to It’s Tops for waffles and hotcakes.
Saturday started with the farmers’
market, of course. My friends browsed while I went on a mission. The haul: a hen, some beef, okra, red tomatoes, a flat of
peaches, a half-flat of strawberries, tiny leeks, a giant Rosa Bianca eggplant, green tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, a big
Pullman loaf, eggs, okra, zucchini, cucumbers, yellow wax beans, corn, peppers, a bundle of thyme, and some dahlias. I looked
for some summer savory, but the grower who had it last year was temporarily out. After our usual coffee at Caffè Greco, I
dropped them off in North Beach and went home. I hit the gym, hoping to see my newest crush, but no. I spent the afternoon
cooking a southern-ish dinner. Pickled wax beans, pickled zucchini. Corn fritters with squash blossoms. Fried chicken. Okra.
Peach cobbler. I remembered to put newspaper on the kitchen floor near the stove, so cleaning up wasn’t too bad.
I made them breakfast on Sunday
morning. They went on a bike ride; I went to the gym. Still no sighting of my crush. He’s usually there when I go on
the weekends. Maybe I scared him. He’s not going to be my muse if I can’t see him regularly. I ran into a trick/acquaintance
(we had both forgotten each other’s names, but we’re always friendly with each other). We were both on the way
to the Dore Alley Faire, but I talked him into going to the nameless fake tattoo shop on 16th Street first. That meant, of
course, that we had to stop at my house to apply them. We surprised my friends there, who were totally naked, getting on their
harnesses, and so forth. We had a jolly time apply tattoos here and there (the caipirinhas may have helped). I don’t
have any real tattoos (I want to keep my options open), but this might change my mind.
Dore Alley was mostly a dull
costume party. The only actually shocking thing was a guy who’d had lots of silicone injected into his cock and balls.
His balls were probably 15 inches around and his dick was probably 10 inches around. People found it scary but fascinating.
I left as soon as I could and took the bus down Mission Street to El Rio. It was more straight than usual, which was a relief.
I hung out with some new friends, went to dinner at Emmy’s Spaghetti Shack, and then home. No touching to report, though
there was a very handsome Kiwi I’d like to get to know better.
No work today! We went to the
Pork Store for a hearty breakfast. I got on to three of the four journals at school that I applied for (not the one I wanted
the most, but I’m happy). Inspired by the example of my Vancouver host last weekend, I’ve been busy tidying and
fluffing so that the place stays neat as a pin. It’s so unlike me, but I love the results, and I know how much nicer
it is to be a guest when everything is shipshape. I started my week’s project of cleaning out stuff to get ready for
the new school year (Mercury is retrograde, so it’s the perfect time). I sold a bunch of books to Green Apple and exchanged them for some Canadian guidebooks; I dropped off old clothes at the thrift store, got a refill of my favorite
pills, made several pints of strawberry jam, and got a nice voicemail from the young Kiwi, asking if I’d like to get
together this week. So he did notice me, after all . . .
I haven’t written too much
about my feelings here lately. I’ve been in a very good mood for a while now. I’m able to look forward to things
without my typical anxieties. The summer job was a good experience for me. I had dreaded it, but I learned a lot more than
I thought I would, and I made a difference in a few men's lives.
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