11 Items in the 10 Item Express Lane The current heat wave in the City has kept people out of their houses en mass to partake in late night outdoor activities they normally would skip. I pride myself with being a night-owl and having so many people out during my time of the "day" annoys me. Walking to the grocery store last night around 10:30 PM, many people on 24th Street were sitting on their stoops, drinking beers, smoking cigarettes and chatting up a storm of muddled buzzes. While that doesn't bother me per se, what does bother me is when three people sitting and chatting all stare as I walk by. It's as if I'm a tennis ball traveling from one side of the court to the other at a turtles pace. Their eyes tracking me, gagging where I'm going, keeping me at a distance safely away from them. I always want to jump at people who stare, if only to startle them and then run away laughing maniacally. At the market there were far too many people shopping. Normally there will be a few booze hounds needing their nightly fix of elixirs. But there were mom's and dad's totting babies, young couples galore and single me. I noticed the majority of the people were purchasing vast amounts ice cream causing an ice cream shortage. I made my way through the store picking up veggies and deli meats. I needed some toilet paper as well. I figured that I might as well buy some ice cream too because it might be my last chance ever! My favorite Ben & Jerry's was in stock, Oatmeal Cookie Dough which tastes like a pint sized It's-It. But I couldn't stop there, I wanted a 4 pack of Dove Bars as well. Scoring the last box available I went heading up to the check-outs smiling.Seems I decided to check-out at the same time everyone else had. Typical. Three lines were open, including the 10 Item or Less Express Lane. I quickly looked at the blue mesh plastic basket I was carrying and counted up my groceries. "One, two, three, turkey, ham, mushrooms, TP, B&J, Dove, frozen spinach ten and frozen spinach 11. I'm buying one too many things!" My eyes darted around the check-out area. I began to sweat. There were so many people in the other lines and I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to. "But is it fair," I thought to myself, "to stay in line with one extra item over the 10 item limit?" The need to exit the store was greater then the moral dilemma at hand so I placed my items inconspicuously up on the conveyor belt. The toilet paper made a nice barrier to hide my deli meats in front of. The mushroom bag obscured the extra frozen spinach box. I looked at the man behind me, holding his one bottle of wine. I thought of a way to distract him so he wouldn't mentally count up my groceries and nark me out. I bumped into the impulse buys sending a few packets of gum tumbling to the floor. I went to bend over as the cashier started ringing up my purchase. The wine guy smiled, "Don't worry about that. I'll pick them up." "Thank you!" My plan worked. He was too busy bent over picking up after me to count my 11 items. I pulled my ATM card out of my wallet and started swiping away on the console. I pushed in my PIN so quickly, not even fast-speed photography could have caught me. The cashier was a bit goofy and he was scattering my items all over the counter. I started to panic again. Anyone could count how many items I had with the spread being evenly distributed as it was! "Can I have plastic?" I asked thinking it would get the cashier to start bagging my groceries. Having been a cashier myself, I ultimately knew it wouldn't work. I stepped to the side of the lane and started bagging my own things. Wine guy was finished picking up the gum and I saw his head bopping up and down ever so slightly counting everything that lay on that vast counter top. With Las Vegas card dealer precision and quickness I raced to get items into the bags before he had the chance to get up to number seven, the box of delicious Dove Bars. The cashier meanwhile was ripping my receipt from the register. I snatched it and said, "Thanks" and hightailed it out the door with my booty.

The El Salvadorians are here in the flat, taking up space in the nooks and in my privacy. Slept with the windows opened last night. It doesn't matter what industrial strength ear plugs I use, or how much hot wax I drip into my ears, when the street starts to get busy between 4 and 430 AM I'm awake. Forced myself to try to stay in bed until 8 but the mugginess of sweat soaked sheets, the heat wafting through the windows, and the brain-scratching squeal of automobile brakes and the wind up of engines got me up. My room looks like a disaster zone, blankets, pillows and clothes strewn everywhere. Which could be a good thing since SF natives say that with this much heat we're going to have an earthquake. "Yep, this be earthquake weather I reckon." (Though I'm sure no native San Franciscan would exactly say it that way. That was much more of a East Coast fisherman's dialect.) Macy isn't taking this heat very well. I should douse her with some water or something. She spreads herself out so thinly that it looks like I've skinned her and am tanning her hide. Last night while online I had a little chat with Tim. I asked him "whats-a-happenin'" and he wrote back:“I’m just a-hangin out and a-editing porn video. We shot a model today and it was pretty hot. I even joined in…which was part of our plan because all the solo stuff began to get boring and I thought we needed to “upgrade.” What I’d like to do is commit sodomy to celebrate the SC ruling today.” Isn't it nice to know that some people have no apprehension to actually tell you what their doing and what they'd like to do. If someone asked me "whats-a-happenin" I would have written, "Not much" or "Oh, this and that." Doctor Tim says I certifiably a virgin again since I haven't "done the deed" in months and months and months. Thank goodness because now I might be able to get a bigger dowry! Then again, I'm not getting any younger and dowries depreciate with age. I started out with a head of cattle, some gold bullions and a Frank Sinatra record. Now all I have are some beans, but I was told they were magic beans! An old lady traded 'em to me for my last cow-- who I needed to get rid of since she no longer produced milk, just cheesy dust would come out of her udder. Oh and I have a Franky Goes to Hollywood cassette single too. No inkling to go to work today. No inkling for much of anything. I'd blame it on the heat, but I don't really care about the heat. Where can I buy a shot of pharmaceutical grade passion? Is there such a thing?At least the office is air conditioned. Too bad the whole journey to get there isn't.This has been a rambling of a barmey bloke.

advice walk through hesitate not before opening the door breathe in the deep gratitude, the last step before the shift forward appreciate the journey being provides toss aside regret receive unsighted possibilities befriend unknowns and chance walk through hesitate not before opening the door

Too many cocktails... Last night I went out with FF to dinner at Home. Ordered up some mojitos and nachos and decided on our entrees. I went with my ol' stand-by, chili verde because I like the hominy that comes with it (though I don't like hominy any other time.) FF got Salmon and a caesar salad. Mojitos just aren't my thing-- tho' I love rum-- so I went to my favorite drink, a kamikaze. FF downed five mojitos during dinner-- I had one and two 'kazes. I said our liquor bill was going to be more expensive than our food. Naturally it was!During desert, FF knocked his coffee over and it spilt on his pants. After 5 mojitos, one is bound to spill something on his pants. It looked like he peed, which made me laugh. I felt buzzed. I normally don't drink, or when I do it's just a beer or two. I never get shit-faced, never have had a hang-over, never have thrown up due to alcohol. FF wanted to go out to get more drinks and since I had nothing else to do I said, "Why not." Walking up Market Street, a frozen gust tickled my bones. FF was not wearing his jacket, instead it was folded over one arm hiding his wet crotch. Ended up at the Bar on Castro-- the scene was ill so FF dragged me to Badlands. I have to say-- neither the Bar or Badlands are places I would ever hang out. I wanted to go down to Moby's some place in my comfort zone, though not really that comfortable. We didn't have to wait in line to get into the Badlands. I had never been and I obviously was not dressed correctly. My t-shirt actually fit me-- everyone else's was two or three sizes too small. Most of the shirts looked like they were painted on the guys in there. Lots of sleeves were missing, anything to show off worked-out arms or track marks. I saw that quite a few boys were friends with "Tina" and they were out on the dance floor going nuts. FF ordered up some drinks and we had a good vantage point by the bar to people watch. He kept wanting me to check my coat but I kept declining. He finally checked his and then made his way out to the dance floor while I kept our spot at the bar. I decided to vary the alcohol I was consuming. Manhattens (which are terrible at Badlands), kamikazes, rum drinks, etc. I was getting extremely buzzed. FF had come back over and tried to get me to go out to the dance floor. If there's one thing I can't do, it's dance. I look like a freshly caught fish flopping around on the deck of a boat. I haven't any rhythm when it comes to dance music. Sure I tap my foot and move a little bit, but the commitment of actually being on the dance floor is more than I can handle. Then again, if there was room to do some fouette en tournant or pirouettes I'd show off my ballet skills.After too much drinking I went back to FF's place up the street and we chatted for a little bit before I crashed in his living room. For the first time in my life the room spun. I enjoyed the feeling. I slept pretty well and didn't wake up with a hang-over. As usuall, a light sleeper, I was up at 7:30 and reading the book I carried with me the whole day before. I wonder if I'll ever have a hang-over.

I think too much to participate in life.Walking down Van Ness Street today it finally struck me: I live in San Francisco. My two year annivarsery is coming up in August and it's taken that long for this to feel real. I thought about my first couple of months in SF. How I didn't know anyone. How the loneliness I have felt my whole life never felt as deep as it did when I came to live in the City. How I used to wander aimlessly up and down streets, toting books and a packed lunch to try to find someplace I might feel comfortable sitting, eating and reading. I still haven't found that place. I learned quickly that a smile meant one was up to something. I forced myself to hinder my smile reflex until one day it was completely gone. The only people who would talk to me were the homeless and they only wanted money. I only wanted someone to say, "hi" and mean it. One day a month after living in SF I drove to the Westlake portion of Daly City where I found a Trader Joe's. Inside the store by the produce aisle a woman with a shopping cart smiled at me and said "hello." I was so overwhelmed I started crying. I hadn't cried so hard in years-- the type of crying that is so painful it becomes silent and my body began to heave. Bell peppers were on sale. A few days later while waiting at a bus stop a man started talking to me. He wore a cowboy hat and he seemed to be fluent in crazy, but I listened. I had a collection of short stories by Jack London I was reading. I closed the book, my index finger acting as a bookmark to keep my place, and I nodded and nodded at everything the man said.I asked him a question, I can't remember what it was, and he looked at me and I saw his eyes well up. "You're the first person to say anything to me in years," he chocked out as he body began to heave and his cries turned silent.

Well blogger readers, I've finally gotten a new job. I can't believe I've taken more than a week to write about this news. Basically I'll be working in a legal department that deals with copyright infringement of intellectual property. I'm not going to bother saying the company's name, but it's here in SF and it is part of the "Adult Entertainment Industry." Honestly, don't know if I've mentioned it before or not, but I'm much more inclined to take notice of someone I meet who is not in the porn industry. It seems that far too many of the people I know make a living doing something that has to do with sex. Whether their escorts, porn stars (porn movies are like escort business cards,) dildo sellers, splooge sopper-uppers, animal husbandriests (ok-- I make that one up) it seems an awful lot of people I know work in the sex industries. My new job has raised... concerns (did you think I was going to write pee-pees?) among my friends not associated with the sex biz. "You're going to loose you sex drive," I've been told more than once (actually 7.5 times, the .5 was from my friend Mau who started to choke on a Korean Chicken Ball half-way through her sentence.) I can't see my sex drive getting any lower than it is right now-- I'm practically virginal again-- there's a glowing halo of light surrounding me. I'm becoming Saint Abstinence of San Francisco. It's most troublesome, this dry spell. The job I'm working at doesn't necessarily help at all. Since I see nekkid (that's ghetto for naked) pictures all day I'm bound to become desensitizing to the sexual allure of the male form. But I have to write that the pay is much more of a turn on than any of those pictures! I get hard for a green-back ;^) My dating life has come to a complete standstill. Why just three or more weeks ago I was feasting on dates with gents from all over-- now I'm in a complete famine. Probably the best thing with the transition of a new job and the upcoming move to a new housing arrangement that has yet to be determined. That's another very stressful part of my life currently. Selling oneself as "the best gosh-darn roommate one could ever have!" I have a standard schpil I post on Craigslist.org-- it's garnered a few good responses. I looked at one place last week which had killer artwork. However there's no parking in Hayes Valley-- if there was a garage space it would have already been mine. However I've got a few places to look at before I decide. In other news M is mad at me. I can understand why but I don't feel like talking to her since she can be quite contentious. This is why my new job is so odd for me... Out of every profession, guys I've dated tend to be lawyers. A good amount of my friends like to argue as well. I dislike debate-- but I'm drawn to those who love it. What's up with that? Anyone got any ideas? So me having a job in the legal world is just plain bizarre. Anyhoot-- that's good for now. I need to write more often in this blog. I started reading through my archive and was absolutely sickened by what I had written about The Poet. Gee, what was I thinking all those months?