June 2005 Archives

I'd like to announce the waiting is over. Fun and Snazzy (aka Will and Matthew), arrived to proud parents Cousins Beth and Paul. Natural childbirth with twins...oy vey.

If anyone has been keeping track of the growing generation of new Studebakers, you'll realize there have been a preponderance of boys. In fact, Brother Mitch has the only girl right now in this crop of cabbage. No one is exactly sure why it is that boys prevail but we all know it makes the girls of the family stronger which makes us better boys.

I always sort of cringe and hold my breath when a new comic book-inspired movie comes out. There are so many ways to do it wrong and there are ample examples to prove thats true. But Batman Begins is one of those special ones that got it right. Christopher Nolan's vision of Gotham, the story behind how Batman begins...it's all just right for me. I could enjoy it as a fan who understands the significance of Gotham's lost Narrows while Jeff who isn't a comic person could understand and connect to the depth of the story without needing any comic background. It all just made sense in a very non-comic fantastical way. I'm not sure how they'll pull of doing the Joker in the next one but they definitely won me over in this one. My only criticism is using Liam Neison and it has less to do with how he was used in this movie but rather how he was, as an actor, miserably used in The Phantom Menace. I just can't get stupid Qui-Gon out of my head whenever he was on the screen. Cillian Murphy's Scarecrow is excellent, though.

The gift that keeps on giving and it reassures those who worry if their fathers are actually eating or just sitting around waiting for a log of bologna and a wheel of cheese to fall into their laps: a shitload of Bob Evans gift certificates in $5 denominations.

I'm a frickin' genius even if I'm never going to be financially snazzy (which goes against my Year of 35: Fun and Snazzy rule)

For the past few weeks I'd been hearing about THE summer book to read. It had something to do with vampires but wasn't an Anne Rice book (emphatically underscored and italicized every time the word 'vampire' was used, as if she has a trademark on vampire stories). Of course when I got to San Francisco and actually needed something fun to read, I couldn't remember the name of the book but how hard could finding THE summer read of the season be? Especially about vampires (and not an Anne Rice book).

Hard, it seems. I had a vague recollection that the book was called "Haunted" however that search only brought up Chuck Palahniuk's new tome which was not what I was looking for (I'd read a review that cited a bit he wrote concerning a boy in a pool using a vacuum hose rectally and then something, blah, blah, blah...not a good summer read, I thought). So I went to B&N close to the hotel and asked a few of the clerks, using words like, "THE summer read this year, vampires, female author (not Anne Rice), getting good reviews" and yet all I got was blank stares and no help. I Googled those words too and still got nothing and started to believe perhaps I'd just made it up and was actually hearing my subconscious telling ME that I needed to write a great vampire story that would become THE summer read for the season making me the new Anne Rice for the vampire masses. Unfortunately I don't have one original idea for vampires that hasn't been done to death (or undeath for those punny punsters out there) so that isn't a great place to start.

Luckily for me, when all seems lost, insomnia strikes as it did this morning (hello 3am, so good to see you again and so soon) and with nothing better to do then troll around looking at bear porn and reading blogs, I finally found the book I was looking for. At Amazon.com, after two fucking clicks which proves that just going to Amazon.com first solves everything, book-related or not. Of course now that my new term at school has started (Information Systems for Management if anyone is interested) my fun reading days are over until the end of July but still, it's nice to know I wasn't making any of it up. The book is called "The Historian" and it's not by Anne Rice.

I could be waiting on any number of things: this horrid humidity to be over or the temperature to drop below 90-degrees in mid-June. I could be waiting to turn 35 (the year of being fun and snazzy which, coincidentally are the two adjectives I am using to represent my 35th year in all things so if I can't work 'fun' or 'snazzy' into it, I ain't doing it) or I could be waiting for a chance to see "Batman Begins" on the IMAX at Lincoln Square with the other geeks (I have a pair of dirty underwear I'm going to put on my head and be the new Scarecrow - boogaboogabooga). I could be waiting to start my post-Finance graduate career now that that horror is over and done with. I could be waiting for September when I want to order the several hundred dollars worth of daffodil and ipheion bulbs to plan for a gorgeous foral explosion next spring.

But no, honestly, the only thing I'm really waiting on right now is the arrival of Cousin Beth and Paul's twin boys, coincidentally named Fun and Snazzy, due at any time. Cousin Beth, as lithe and fragile as fine porcelin, is now practically hanging upside down on bedrest to keep the two WonderTwins from sneaking out too early so we're all wishing her well and good health and a well-medicated, epidur-tastic delivery. Twin Gemini boys...whoHA are they in for fun.

I managed to squeeze more into the last two days then I imagined. I took advantage of the early morning hours on Tuesday before the conference and walked over to see Lombard Street and then from there could see that Coit Tower was definitely just a short walk away. It ended up being a bit further than I imagined but worth it. Telegraph Hill is really quaint and seemed of all the places I've been so far, the most San Francisco-ish to me. Of course looking around I could tell it is probably where I would want to live (except maybe Pacific Heights but come on, who are we kidding with that).

After the conference was over for the day, I got out and spent a few hours at Alcatraz which was very cool. I didn't really know much about it but being there and standing in the cells while the audio tour used former Alcatraz inmates to tell their stories was pretty effective. It gave me the impression that beyond being locked into a tiny cell all day, the pure criminal nature of the inmates made it that much worse.

When I got back from Alcatraz, I swung by and saw the sea-lions lazying around Pier 39 and that was fun for about a whole minute because damn, they stink...and they just lay there.

My plan was to get to the Palace of Fine Arts by sundown and on the map, it looked like a nice walk from where I was staying. It ended up being a hour and half of steady pacing but finally getting there right around dusk, it was amazing. The enormity and volume of the remaining structure is pretty breath-taking. Since I was over there, I jaunted over to Crissy Field for a better view of the bay and the Bridge then headed back.

Yesterday the perfect 60-degree, sunny weather turned foul and it was gray and rainy all day. It was fortunate that I'd left all my shopping and museuming for the wet day and set out in the morning with my tour book in hand. I managed to hit the awesome exhibits at the Museum of Asian Art and the geeky Museum of Cartoon Art but got foiled by the SF Museum of Modern Art which was closed. I shopped around downtown, hit the Apple Store and all the famous SF chocolate stores as well as slipping into the Metreon to check out Chronicle Books, a publishing house I frequently buy from.

By yesterday evening, I was so exhausted and wet, I spent the night holed up in the hotel room trying to figure out how to repack with all the extra stuff I'd bought and watching movies. Now I just have the six hour flight back to New York to contend with and the next three days of dealing with getting readjusted to EST.

5:27am PST - I not only managed to stay up until 9:30(!) last night, I actually slept in until 5:00 this morning. I'm slowly shifting out of the East to West jetlag. It was humorous that everyone from my institution who is out here for the conference greeted me yesterday morning as I walked up to the communal breakfast table with, "what time did you wake up this morning". It seems 3:15am was about the normal.

After the conference ended yesterday, I high-tailed it down to the Castro as I was instructed. Apparently "high-tailing" out here means a lot of walking and and about an hour and a half. I managed to navigate the F-Train only to be discharged twice because something was blocking the tracks. In between I then just walked and walked and walk (and at one point threatened to take the BART or the MUNI until I realized that I had no earthly idea how to use it or even if it was going where I wanted to go...and that was with reading the maps).

So I finally get to the Castro, walk around a bit, and realized that the thing about traveling to new places is, it's not about walking around and looking at things, it's more about getting to a destination where there are things to do. My problem is I never have an agenda so in yesterday's case, simply walking around the Castro was kind of over-rated. I was tired, hot, and frustrated from the travel and it ended up looking divey and like Christofer St. in NYC. I might of felt different if I lived in Nowheresville but coming from NYC, there isn't that much new someone can do with a gay ghetto. I don't even like Christofer St. or Chelsea that much in NY so why would the Castro be different. Not only that, but I'm lame enough to forget that at 5pm in the afternoon, anywhere, that is absolutely bubkus going on. Everyone is still at work. And because I didn't want to go sit in a bar alone somewhere, I was kinda of shit-outta-luck.

So eventually after finding some coffee at Cafe Fiore, I hoped back on the F-Train and actually headed back up to Fisherman's Wharf, found some dinner, then hit the hotel and went to bed with a better plan for today.

That plan is: destination, destination, destination. This afternoon I'm either hitting Alcatraz or the Palace of Fine Arts and doing some walking around Pacific Heights and North Beach this morning. I'm conclusively a die-hard morning person and would much rather say I've seen more by 9am than most people do all day. This evening I might try to venture out for some cocktail somewhere but I'm going to have a destination in mind, not some aimless wondering like a freaking nomad.

3:30am PST - Holy Fucking Shit. I'm still on EST and I'm wide awake. No room service until 6:30am and I can't find the room's coffee pot. Decide to read and blog. I call Jeff because I know he's getting up for work. He thinks I'm just getting in from a night out. Yeah, maybe 10 years ago.

5:20am PST - The sun is up and I'm fucking starving . All I have is gum. Not sure I should be out wandering the streets at 5am looking for an all-night diner so I'm going to stay put. Managed to get a coffee-pot sent up from the front desk. I laid out all my clothes and realized I brought all the wrong things but will have to make do.

8:20am EST - I've been up half the day and the conference hasn't even started yet. I got my 6:30 breakfast then decided to go out for a walk around Fisherman's Wharf to get a lay of the land. Tourist traps are much more fun without all the tourists. Heading out here sometime this week since that is the one thing every single person has said is a must-do on this trip.

11am EST - An hour into the six hour flight from NY to SF and things aren’t too bad. My carry-on luggage actually fit into the overhead compartment even though the flight is pretty full. Bodes well for the rest of the trip.

Even though I bought two novels and one travel guide, I opt to buy some magazines at the airport incase I learn to speed-read and finish the novels en route. A little something for everyone, I buy Business Week because they’re profiling bio-tech companies and it makes me feel like I’m working, which is good since this is a work trip. Bought the new Radar magazine too because I’m a lemming and also the current New Yorker. I’ve never bought or eve read a new Yorker for that matter but you know, it’s about trying to be better.

By this time into the trip, I’ve only selectively picked through Radar. Score! A confusing but funny literature-based flow chart by Blog A-lister, Choire Sicha, with books I’ve actually read or heard of. I get the blush of blogger star-fucking as I once shared a cab with Choire across town one evening between blogger events. I’m pretty certain he thought I was the fucking dullest waste of spooge ever to have access to a blog. I still have the email he once sent me about the entry I wrote concerning anally dis-impacting Jeff’s grandfather at Passover some years back.

So far into the flight, only two patches of “chop” as described by the pilot. Uncharacteristically for me (and surprising since I forgot to get my standard four Xanax tablet prescription from my Doc), I don’t project horrific scenarios of the plane breaking up at 35,000-feet over Buffalo.

Strangely, I just remembered I brought my charged iPod with me and kicked myself for spending an hour listening to the engines and the guy snoring behind me.

11:30 EST - Another half hour later and we seem to be flying over some large shoreless body of water. I didn’t pay attention to the safety demonstration at the beginning of the flight (see Radar paragraph above). Don’t exactly know if the floatation device is under myseat or is my seat. Thinking the water below must be a Great Lake since in the Captain’s intro he mentioned Buffalo, Green Bay, Southern Idaho, the Rockies, and then San Francisco.

Absolutely no cute guys on the plane and all the stewardesses are menopausal women…on a non-stop flight between the gay Mecca of the East and the gay Mecca of the West. WTF?

1pm EST – We had to shut the window shades for the in-flight movie. Maybe it’s just me but being trapped on a steel-reinforced aluminum tube flying at 500-mph might call for some light-hearted, funny instead of watching Hillary Swank get the shit beat out of her in a boxing ring. I cracked the window shade to take peak and found we were flying over some very large, serpentine river. I immediately thought it was the Mississippi but that may be just my Midwest centrism and shitty sense of geography.

I was able to go the first three three hours of the flight through one large bottle of water and a Delta Snack-Pak before bothering the two passengers seated between me and the aisle to get up and pee. Very good omen.

12:45pm PST – We flew over what I assumed were the snow-capped Rockies and then boom, we’re in San Francisco. I’m already experiencing some loss of direction. It’s sunny but I can’t tell which way the sun is moving and have no good point of reference. The first impression of SF as I’m driving from the airport to the hotel is how expansive and spread out the city seems. I think that has more to do with being conditioned by sky-scrappers in New York. Kind of uncomfortable.

The cab driver takes me through some part of the city and I start seeing large rainbow flags lining the street. That’s kind of cool. We make it to the hotel on Fisherman’s Wharf and even after looking at several different maps, I don’t have a good sense of direction. The hills throw me off as does the irregular, diagonal grid-pattern of the streets.

2pm PST – On my way back down (up? over?) to meet up with Bill from Mermaniac. He invited me to a QueerArts festival opening that his boyfriend is producing. The hotel concierge tells me the F-Train will drop me four blocks from where I want to be and that I can take a cab from there. I kind of scoff at the suggestion of taking a cab four blocks and mention I’m from New York. He says San Francisco blocks are bigger. Size Queen. I skip the train this time and take a cab to the art exhibit just to get a feel for distances.

3:30 PST – The Latin QueerArts installation is excellent. A very good mix of works by the queer latino community and a really great turn out. Bill introduces me around and points out all the works.

4:00 PST – Walk down a few blocks to the Lone-Star. Beer-Blasts are apparently the thing to do in San Francisco on Sunday afternoons and this one is for bears. I’m literally the most hairless guy there but, wow, a whole bar full of friendly bears. I realize that I’ve seen porn that was filmed at this bar which kind of wigs me out. My Batman shirt ensemble fits in just fine.

5:30 PST – I’m starving so Bill offers to drive me around to see some of SF and find some food. We eat at a great authentic Spanish place in the Mission. Drive through the Castro, Pacific Heights, Union Station, and Downtown. The weather is friggin’ gorgeous if not a bit on the windy side.

8:00 PST – Realize I’m still on EST and am going to drop from exhaustion. Hate to admit it but am in bed and going to call it a night.

I'm starting to get revved a bit about San Francisco. I bought a little guide to help me with general stuff and downloaded everyone's recommendations to my phone. Wardrobe drama has insued but for the most part, minus needing some big black butch boots which I don't have and don't have room for, I'm doing ok. I've never been much of one for knowing what to wear anyway so it'll just have to suit.

I had some last minute shopping to do before I leave for San Francisco tomorrow. Of course not having any idea how those crunchy west-coasters dress, I'm sort of taking a shot in the dark. I've been warned that layering is a must which ultimately just confuses the issue even more so since I have no agenda, it's a toss up of what is appropriate. I've decided to leave wardrobe drama behind and just go with what's comfortable. Unfortunately my favorite must-have Fantastic Four shirt that I've had for years and years has seen its day so a quickie slide down to Jim Hanley's Universe got me a month's worth of my comic titles (including the promising new "House of M" series) AND some new wardrobe. It's not that I'm such a huge fan or that I think the movie is going to rock, but it has a certain vibe so it's all good.

I also lied a few posts back during the book meme. The last book I read wasn't Lives of the Popes, but was actually Freakonomics which was EXCELLENT. So excellent that I can't believe I forgot that I read it. If you have any interest in learning the extent to which teachers lie (hi Max!) or why abortion has had the single greatest impact on reducing the crime rate, pick it up.

My premature posting yesterday about being done with finance was...premature. Who knew that the decision making process (including showing the formulas of such decision) would take over three hours? I mean, it's only a choice between leasing or borrowing cash for a goddamn $75000 server. Who gives a fuck, right?

So this is the first look of what its like to be really finished. The picture before this that I had intended to post was one of jubilant ecstacy...so of course it came out looking like I was either being anally assulted or getting ready to be on the receiving end of a bukkake porn. Neither are quite appropriate for this particular venue so I had to go with this one: still anxious and uptight but envisioning my celebatory beer when I get home.

As I know everyone is waiting for it if only so I'll get off this one-trick pony and move on to something else as completely boring and unimportant, I'm announcing today that, barring any unforeseen circumstances like winning the lotto or poking out my eye, Finance should be finished by about 8pm. Now for anyone counting my term weeks, you'll want to holler and ask how I could be done five days early with such a difficult course. The answer, plainly, is that I actually followed the dread advice of my professor (and went against my procrastinating personality type) and kept up with the homework problems (at the expense of actually learning anything. This resulted in essentially having most everything done except crossing the t's and dotting the i's at the start of the week.

This is all good news for a variety of reasons but most of all, it is as I always tell myself during torturous struggles like this: the end will come, regardless. That's regardless of how much work or lack there of I put in, how anxious and suicidal I become, or how much I hate every waking minute. The fact that I didn't get an A in this class is so far behind me that I could honestly give a fig less. I've emerged on the other side (or will when I cross those t's and dot those i's tonight)finally.