is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.


Welcome to San Francisco!

Tonight, as you know, we were supposed to go see Serenity. But the San Francisco Neighborhood Theater Foundation was showing Tootsie in Dolores Park, and Caroleen was all fired up to picnic and drink champagne and watch Dustin Hoffman play Mrs. Doubtfire. I wasnít so sure about that. For one thing, I was walking around San Francisco last night and it was FRIGID, weather-wise. Plus, Tootsie. But I went, and you know what? It was great. I had a yummy burrito, and some champagne, and a cookie, and a tarp and some blankets. Plus, there I was with Marco and Evany and Caroleen and all of San Francisco central casting. Tootsie was very entertaining and made me laugh out loud many many times. I had forgotten that a young Bill Murray was in it, as Dustin Hoffmanís straight-man (in more ways than one) roommate.

We got to watch the sun set, and then, during the movie, since it is currently Fleet Week in SF, we also got to see a fireworks display over the bay. How perfect is that?

During my years of living on 16th Street I always tried to get potential dates to go watch the sun set with me at the top of Dolores Park. Itís a great view, and a great transitional time of day/night, and then there you are, just blocks from hundreds of bars and restaurants. Seems perfect to me. However for some reason I rarely succeeded in making it happen when it came time to getting date-accompaniment for that activity. I have heard that men are from Mars.

Tomorrow, after lunch with my dad and sister in Vallejo, and a possible detour to Walnut Creek to pick up something for Evany that has to do with Lizís birthday, tomorrow is the day when we finally see SERENITY.

I am very excited to see my boyfriend, the fictional character Malcolm Reynolds, on screen for two hours.

Caroleen keeps threatening to dress like a Klingon. Evany keeps saying, but there arenít any alien races in Firefly! And Caroleen says, ďI know.Ē Rinse and repeat.

Evanyís hair does not at all resemble a football.

Yesterday my flight got in around 10 at the Oakland airport. Marco and Evany came to pick me up, and that was step one in a night of craziness. The traffic at the Oakland airport was bananas. Then we almost ran out of gas. Then we found a gas station called Silver Gas (sketchy!), right across the street from a place called Abeís #2 Liquors (about which we made many, many different jokes). Then we went to San Francisco and met Todd and his lady for drinks. We started at Lazslo, which was great at first, because their drinks are so tasty, and we scored a great corner couch in the upstairs balcony area. But the DJís loud rap music was harshing on Evanyís mellow (the loudness, not the rapness), so we went next door to Medjool, where we also managed to score a corner couch after some maneuvering. I had a very tasty Mojito, and that pleased me. Everything felt a bit surreal because I had been awake for so long. (I got out of bed at 4am SF time that day.) At some point the music at Medjool took a terrible turn, and Todd pointed out that it sounded like music youíd be forced to listen to while installing Windows on your computer, or something like that. Sometimes Todd is a genius. I wanted another mojito, but that music was really bad, and the people there were not our peeps. So we went to Docís Clock. The music was better, the people were better, but there were no mojitos, and Docís Clock always smells like cat urine.

What we have here is what I like to call ďthe swimsuit compromise.Ē When youíre a size ten on top and a size six on bottom, and you wear a one-piece swimsuit, whatcha gonna do? Either the top is too small and the ass fits fine (terrible music, good drinks) or the top is perfect but the ass has some extra fabric with which it must constantly reckon (good music, normal drinks, urine smell). Whatcha gonna do?

I do have a really, really great swimsuit. I shopped for it for YEARS before I found it. It is demure, and sexy in a not-very-revealing way, and itís a little bit 40s starlet, or Elvgren pin-up. However, though the swimsuit is close to perfect, my ass is reckoning with some fabric, you know?

ANYWAY. Despite the swimsuit compromise, it was a fun evening. At about 1:30 Marco, Evany and I jumped back into Marcoís truck for a dash across the bay. But no dashing happened at all. Oh, the car started and everything. But the bay bridge was under construction and the traffic to get across was so heavy and slow that I didnít get back to Jonathanís until 4:30 in the morning. I am not kidding. It took that long to drive across the bay bridge. I had been awake for 24 hours and was So Very Tired. Donít think that time was wasting, however. M, E and I used our time as traffic-hostages to remind ourselves of all the classic and 90s rock lyrics we know by heart.

When we finally got back to Oakland, I managed to remember how to disarm Jonathanís alarm system, and then I jumped into the bed, marveled at how comfortable it was, and then remembered that I had to go find a piece of information and email it to Jonathan (who is in Sweden). I did that. Then I got back into bed and slept until 11am, and it was lovely.

No matter where you sit in this house, you can see three to seven musical instruments. It will always be the case that some of them you will be unable to name, because they are some sort of exotic thing from far-flung lands and musical traditions.

One thing I like about Jonathan is that he doesnít get all indignant when I say I like one of his guitars because itís cute. (In case you donít knowÖ youíre supposed to like guitars for reasons other than their cuteness.) Sure, I know guitars have tone and history and technological and virtuousic abilities and other things that are more important than their looks (much like me). But ADMIT IT. You also love the sparklies and the inlays and the starbursts. It wouldn't be enough if that were all there were. But it's good to have more than just one virtue. ADMIT IT.

12:47 a.m. - October 09, 2005


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