Friday, Saturday, Sunday
Oh, man, is it already bedtime on Sunday night? Well, I've paid my bills, and I can stay in my beautiful, tiny SF apartment for one more year, and I'm on the verge of being wireless again, and I like someone who's cute and nice, and he likes me, too, and. . .
I stayed up until all hours eating, listening to music, and talking to a someone who enjoyed Fishing With John. No new birds to report, just a long Friday (which is how Fridays should be!), a little sleep, a huge breakfast, and I think more nice times in store. 'Nuff said. I am happy & looking forward & feeling some optimism.
As I said, a huge breakfast, and in addition, several pugs. One of which was tied up outside a coffee place & had reached an age of weird toadishness. It responded to my petting with what seemed like friendly anxiety. Then I hopped in a cab and went to Japantown to meet adorable Miss S and the cool Miss M, who is visiting from Tucson. We did the usual wakame-beer-photo booth-bookstore-more food-more beer-back to my pad-tea-walk in the rain-kind of thing. Miss S was able to find her pornographic manga she so dearly loves, and after listening to Miss M's report, I'm sort of thinking about what it might be like to wind up in Tucson in some distant future. Cheap houses, y'all! Sunshine, good music, cactus, and lots of writing to be done.
This house is out of my range, but you get the picture. Old houses in disrepair are meant to be purchased and fixed up and loved.
After I dropped Miss S and Miss M at the MUNI station, I spent some time on the phone with ginab, who reported that men like to GRUNT when they lift weights, though you don't hear much from them in bed (I'm putting this quite a bit more delicately than ginab did because I am a lady, through and through). I don't hear much grunting in the Castro gym at which I have a membership. Except from myself, when I'm trying to do yoga. I remember certain noises, however, from the apartment above Matty's. Loud ones! I guess everything's backwards here in SF.
Why is it so much easier to write about the bad days than the good days? I mean, I'm keeping some of the good stuff private, that's true. You don't want the details of old-person dating and so forth. But sheesh, my Sunday!
At the risk of sounding like a complaining a-hole, then. . .
It started out great, because I slept in until 10, got up at 11, and read a great story from the collection Miss T gave me for Xmas. Gina Berriault had a unique handle on the short story and the subtleties of character. And really, if you like short stories, you MUST buy her collection entitled Women in their Beds.
I lazed around until the afternoon, then I went to the nearest Circuit City to pick up a car stereo my awesome dad bought me for Christmas. First, though, the spiral road up to the 3rd floor parking garage is unbelievable steep! So steep that at one point my tires were spinning and I couldn't go anywhere. So I was stuck in the middle of this narrow spiraling path, everything stinking of hot rubber, my legs shaking. My e-brake wouldn't even stop my car from inching backwards & with the stickshift, I just couldn't get up the hill. I finally thought to back down and try again (lucky for me, nobody was following), and after a running start, I made it.
But okay, big box stores like Circuit City confuse the hell out of me. So after trying three elevators and opening about twenty doors in search of stairs, I finally figured out how to get down to the store part, where I then had to discern what kind of stereo was covered by my gift certificate. I have a sneaking suspicion these kinds of tasks are, for most people, really easy. Once I made my choice, up I went to the installation guy, who looked in my side window and kind of grumbled about what he saw there in my dash, and then he said he'd call me in about an hour.
I went back downstairs to the main floor, thinking maybe there would be something interesting to pretend to shop for, but I guess circuit-y stuff just doesn't interest me. An employee asked "Do you need help finding anything, baby?" and I said no. He very kindly & leeringly suggested that I should ask him if I needed anything & he called me baby again. I wandered out to the street and feeling sort of rootless, I stood outside in the rain looking at my map and trying to figure out how to drive back home. This went on for some time, as I don't have a sense of direction. After I'd memorized all that, I went over to Mel's Diner, though I wasn't hungry, and pretended to eat some onion rings. Why do the waitresses at Mel's wear embroidered napkins in their hair?
After I'd killed an hour and a half examining the front of the menu, I went back to check on my car. The installer-guy said that he had no idea how to install my stereo, and maybe I should go see a movie up the street. Clearly, me seeing a movie wasn't going to enlighten him, so after a few phone calls he suggested I drive over to the Circuit City in Emeryville next weekend (which I will, but gaw!).
So I drove back home with a new car stereo in its box and two small bags of wires.
There's more, there's more, but it doesn't get interesting, I'm afraid. Chores. Tedious chores, downtown and right here at home.
Awwww, man, it's bedtime, and tomorrow is Monday.
Good night, and good night, and good night.