I think this is a monthly effort. Evidenced by the frequency of my actual posts.

Been a busy fall (are they ever not?). Holidays are upon us with a magical transformation of power and new energy of activism and engagement I haven't seen since the late 80's and early 90's. If history (as promised) repeats itself, then the club scene should soon be exploding with innovative and exciting new spaces, events and venues.

Not sure what the new "new" economy means for any of us. Personally it is odd to have escaped the flames of bankruptcy to land at a company in good states and a good company (Levi Strauss & Co). Though even Levi's has had both layoffs and been hiring as business changes. I think it is really true that while we are subject to and part of history we all do not experience it in the same way.

One thanks is for the falling oil prices. Not meaningful to a no car walk mostly SF lifestyle but a big impact to a CT Homeowner heating with oil (my and my partners very bi-coastal other part of our lives being a country home in the coldest corner of CT).

And so after a month no mention here of the Mad Malka Salon (Tuesdays in a secret palace on the far side of the Filmore hill) or the latest Bent Boy Book or the next in the Bar Series from another SF Writer or even good gossip about boys and bars and sex. Disapointing? Yes, a little. I'll as I often promise try to do better.

BTW Rita Moreno is a very sexy 71 with some serious slither moves including a full body recline on a piano. God knows at this rate where the new 30 will land but assuredly past 40.

And with that the end of this post.

A Curiousity

Cat Killer

Compulsion

Composition

The polymars performed their role admirably. The adhesive held. The future became present and the present opened up into a party. And the party was plentiful.

Good and plentiful. Land of plentiful. And the plentif plead for the wisdom of the dead and the dead rose up and so aroused, sought the santuary of souls in the solice of summer.

Hot stuff. Heady and rough, it was good sex.

Colonizing the Colonials (some more)

You can make a world of difference!

National Clandestine Service Career.

The work of a nation. The center of intelligence.

CIA

Only the police seemed to mistake the New Langton and the Colony Room for a party. They appeared in their lumbering slow insistent investigative way to break up what they thought was an illegal rave. A quick look into the nearly empty space with a modest sound system and nary a glow stick in sight revealed their error and they moved on down Folsom toward the loud pulsing sound of parties permitted or not.

Not an underground club or even an edgy location in the now mostly lofted South of Market, New Langton is assuredly an art space (gallery, performance space, studio, whatever). The rough walls can't disguise the planned artifice of this reenactment/restaging of the infamous London drinking club. The "raw" quasi nineties performance art space only heightens the artifice of this self styled performance of social scene and milieu and at the same time deflates it a bit.

Being in a performance space prevents the kind of forced dialogue between social staging and performance that might happen if this project were to be put into a real bar or club, say the old Press Club on Post or the Redwood Room. In that setting the artifice would be another layer put on the artifice of the existing space with its own organic life. Of course those are not spaces of social and artistic discourse where art and alcohol and all intertwine. San Francisco is difficult that way. The social scenes are disparate, the watering holes unrelated to the arts patrons make or don't make. Despite best romantic efforts at restaging or inventing we have neither the pub/club drinking culture nor the gentle salon society to tie together a like scene.

But then this was before Emily Wilson appeared. (That amazing event's description coming in the fullness of time...)

Colony Room Distilled

The week before Emily's reading, she and I attended the Colony Room to scope out the scene. After a delicious dinner of Sushi and something not quite yet tofu at a delightful hole in the wall Sushi place in the Castro we slid down 18th to Folsom and other to New Langton. Baffled at first by the space (I thought we were in the same New Langton I knew but that it had received some kind of extraordinary renovation stripping out the bare fittings it had had) until the director explained it was new and the old space was adjacent and accessed through a barely finished hole in the wall I was none the less enchanted by the corrugated walls and vertigo inducing ceiling.

Despite the huge volume of space, the scene felt warm and intimate. A trick of the red glowing light perhaps but a welcome feeling none the less.

On the back wall a video projection, universally ignored. Scattered through the room, a spare crowd. On the left a bar light by hanging barrels turned lamps (my mother with her passion for electrifying everything would appreciate the work) on the right the Alice in Wonderland passage to Langton past, behind a red Toyota pick up truck with a white camper roof housing a portable still, the source of that evening's special cocktail. A kind of anti-moonshine (or anti-freeze), it was Makers Mark bourbon run through the still until it lost all color but retained that sickly sweet bourbon flavor. Vaguely reminiscent of holiday sweet, it would turn out to be a drink that stayed with me well into the next day.

More social than performative, the evening turned into an unexpected delight. Perhaps it was the smallness of the group or the moonshine but somehow the we're all in this together feeling led to an easing of some of the usual art/social anxiety and awkwardness. After admiring her from afar I had a wonderful chat with Ann Colvin..

This week's suggested strategy for prying out a story or some such:

Celebrating the collapse the consumer economy and the fall of finance, tell a story using the tools, devices or artifacts of commerce. Tell a story of buying, selling, paying or getting paid. Or tell a story using the ephemera of commerce (receipts, credit card slips or statements, bank statements, price tags etc) to be your form or anchor or inspiration. Keep it to a page or a little more and bring it to share.

Amazed by all things Dodie, I am a delighted devotee of her new. The post on I was especially impressed by her post on Bhanu Kapil discussion around a short selection from Elizabeth Grosz's *Chaos, Territory, Art,*. Reading Dodie's recounting and analysis, I feel like I was there and glad i missed it all at once. Check it out here.

The theme of the actual and theoretical seems to be a common theme with the Non-Site Collective's last few events. It is nice to see the personal and practical and actual come up against the analytical creating a practical problem of thought and emotion in one of these discussions. The comfort of the ether is no better than the comfort of the "real." Pushing them together seems more important than ever in these times of segmentation, stratification and isolation from our eco system be it social, economic or environmental.

Officer Down

Officer down
Fell like a feather
Wrapped in leather
Red and blue colors spread for you
Face white and true
A flag unfurled
His body curled
A mighty fall
The silent call
The grieving widow
Shattered grief
Almost a relief
An outline against the gray
Endless day
Folded flag
Body bag
Empty pillow
Feathers fluffed
Candle snuffed.

And so again at an unintended interval.

Still struggling to find the time to learn to crochet to become my own hyperbolic artist. If only I'd known I would have insisted my grandmother teach me to knit along with all those other essential social skills I learned at her knee such as the nuances of lineage and snobbery in America. Amazing how a carefully managed mutt like state can permit Mayflower credentials for America's old families and for those oh so annoying French, Charlemagne. Oh to think what she could have done with ancestry.com when all that came from polite visits and studied reviews of ancient records. Too bad the Queen Mary didn't have frequent sailor points or what not. Not that her correspondence and friendship with Red Skeleton wasn't some kind of reward.

Since my failure to crochet, I have been doing my best to be social and art social.

Did a lovely drive down and around the coast with my dear friend Jan (publisher for Red Wheel Weiser). Hit some of the highlights and low lights and learned of Bonnie Doone's tasting room move to the middle of Santa Cruz and discover some new wines from the new tenant.

Also am developing a wonderful habit of Martini's and dinner with Minnette (though might get disrupted by a workshop.

I even finally managed to get to a Non Site event with the reward of re encountering old friends without any scene attitude or anxiety. What a delight!

Tonight a night off to pay bills and like, not such a delight.

But I persist in the delight of now and will continue as best I can to continue to make work and update this. I may need to breakdown and invest in technology...that being my way of paying the bills I know better than to buy it.

Writing a Hyperbolic Poem

A
Single
Syllable
One at a time
Added to the line
Makes this hyperbolic
Crocheting words into wool
Wound tightly into skeins of yarn
Knitting on this page an un-flat shape
Linear and dimensional at once.

And so in search of a new bag I nearly bought the Super Hybrid from Hideo Wakamatsuo but then the very helpful sales girls (no other possible term for these giggling Japanese women) showed me the next generation model coming in November. Not as sleek as the Super Hybrid and of course more expensive it did have a seasonal essential for San Francisco, a built in rain coat (for the back pack).

At the begining of my outing it was easy to defer but now November seems very far away...and of course Black (obvious and the RIGHT choice but still), Red (just so tempting but wearing requires more planning) and Silver (too hard and will just get nasty looking I think). And so bagless (well I still have my slowly decaying now officially ancient Hideo Wakamatsuo and my other various back packs) I meandered around finally landing back at the Muddy Waters on Church. A nice energy and I almost got a little writing done.

Hyberbolic writing and theory coming soon. Also the verdict on my effort to sell my non-levi overpriced denim to one of those soon to be Yelped about fancy re-sale clothing shops on Market street.

A Saturday of cleaning, tidying, and purging. Too many books not wanted by the awful Aardvark hastily dropped at the ever welcoming Out of the Closet. Another bad brunch at Cafe Flore (food slightly better than the sea of ugly and banal filling in and out), will I never learn? To the Mission tomorrow in search of energy and life and perhaps a new bag from the fab Japanese designer (I just can't be another Chrome clone or a would messenger in custom Timbuk2 and my last Tumi was just too much bag so again I go to toward to slightly kinky and assuredly Kooky Japanese designer Hideo Wakamatsu.

Tonight a quiet effort at to dos post Ashtanga Yoga and pre-dinner/video in. Still working out the hyperbolic as a theory of being. But soon wisdom will poor forth from here.

And so the circles keep closing in.

Love Dodie's discussion of blogging and time and real writing. I think perhaps when I am at my best I do not write at all but simply record the news from Mars sent via radio waves.

Kevin's play tonight preceded by a truly perfect meal with the ever amazing Emily Wilson (one of the few people who can keep me present enough to enjoy dining out and still be attuned enough to know the right artisan cocktail choice and perfect after dinner Pinot Grigio to split).

The play and scene themselves and even marvelously so. Too much to describe now but as I process as I am still processing the hyperbolic art and coming to an articulation of so too will I process Kevin's pink and Jocelyn's furs and Anne's paint and all the rest into something more than a sentence.

But Minnette there too and a wondering when I will come by for that much vaunted Martini. And almost an arrangement for Tuesday. If it works it will be a perfect day and a dream of days to come.

And so with this post of not enough, I persist.

Finally to the Frida Kalho show at SFMOMA. Crowded but not crazy but very annoying the blockades of people shifting their gaze from the electronic tour device to the art and back to be sure they got it as instructed.

I had a good general sense of Frida Kalho before seeing the show but was really amazed by the layers of performance and engagement between her life and her work and range and depth of the work. We certainly do bury our interesting women behind their artist husbands be they Frida or Yoko.

So nice to see our lovely city part of the positives of this short marvelous life and career. Especially nice too to see the self conscious claiming of a particular Mexican/Hispanic identify in these times of melting merging and/or eradicating of identity. Might sneak back one more time before they clear the walls.

Also caught Half a Life the Chinese contemporary art show. A very clear window into the soul of post Mao China with all of its unsettled and unsettling qualities. Reminded me of the stories of Chinese Performance Artists risking their lives in expressions of their conditions be being sealed in concrete, floating in a bubble in Hong Kong Harbor or standing on melting ice with a noose around the neck. As observers, one might think that these visual artists would have a less dangerous relationship to the work but then after the fat grandson, the almost bobble head like repeated sculptural figures and Pol Pot like pile of heads and scary fabric woman again pink and the feather man there is the sculpture by Sheng Qi, My Left Hand showing the missing finger he cut off and buried in a flower pot before leaving China so that he would leave something of himself in China.

All that in the afternoon and then home to nurse my summer sniffles (hate this heat and do too much cold to compensate I think).

Today I managed to retrieve a recent online art purchase from the ridiculous Clayton Street Post Office without too much trauma and still have enough energy to get to Flore for much needed coffee and some brunch. Still struggling with the new menu. Tried to recreate my old favorite of smoke salmon arugula and scramble eggs with mixed success. But fortified, I did manage to make my way to Margaret Tedesco's to see and buy some art. I told her that I had not been there before but since then realized I had but in the dark and from another flow entirely.

Lovely to see some secrets that I coveted but will have to view at the museum I am afraid and to score some super deals on a couple of Anne McGuire pieces. Also just nice to spend some time with Margaret whom I always see and say hi but have little conversation with. All part of my fringe of the fringe identity which I have decided to unfringe. (A lot due to so much gay club life partying and mainstream working all these years...there is only so much time for partying, sex, work, writing and being artistically social and that is what gave.)

Tomorrow my Sharper Image reunion (I hope good material to finish or start a story) and then Dodie's curated show which ties so well to with my Kathy Acker piece, At the Altar. I may try to find a way to share with some of the folks.

OK. Time to start the Party...

And again back, not quite a month. Shamed into trying harder in part by the conversation at Dodie's last workshop/party at Minnette's fabulous diggs.

Tempted a little by first Thursday but too hot to dress and look lovely enough and even a little by the Asian Museum Burning Man Tea House fest, I instead did a modest bit of Pilates and meandered home to catch up on things like this.

Still adjusting to my new job and hours and such I find my writing time more readily available offline and old fashioned in notebooks (adorable Japanese notebooks which are a serious fetische for me). All of which is fine for my stories and poetry but very behind the pace of a blog.

Especially by the time I get around to transcribing/posting. Could be weeks or longer. After work and the gym or what have you and cooking dinner (yes obsessive local organic slow food with often complicated variations of my own inventing) there is very little time to be boring and sit at the computer. Especially with a boyfriend I actually rather enjoy spending time with and having conversation with.

And so all the endless excuses and explanations. Not so very interesting and not really of consequence.

But rather than transcribing my 8/22/08 notebook entry entitled Package It Up: Blogging on Paper. So counter intuitive and yet here it is... I will write briefly about the that experience and then move on to the truly recent.

On 8/22, the extraordinary Jennifer Blowdryer hosted a totally fun reading event at Dog Eared Books in which my workshop buddy Stephen Boyer read and someone I did not know of before Brontez read along with Jennifer and a poet MK Chavez (whom I loved too and have to chase down to read).

I loved Jennifer's reading of the new version of The World's Laziest Secretary but I think she was wrong about the illustrations, the original ones are better but only now and not probably when they were new. Glad I got this brief visit with the rapidly slimming rising M. Blowdryer as see was booked up and then back to New York before I knew what happened.

So Stephen was lovely of course but he feels like a kid brother chasing many of the insane party pranks I did (and well yes, sometimes, still pursue). But Brontez was a surprising breath of fresh air and a flirticious delight before during and afterward. I only wish he would make more of Fag School #3 (sold out everywhere!).

And so then on to last night.

An incomplete gathering (Dodie, Minette, Emily, Maize, Anne, Drew, Masha, and Stephen) but lots of fun local and sustainable food (was this a reference to the Slow Food Nation event? Minette wore here apron...) Of course we are all converted one way or another. Emily who nearly went with Coco or Drew who loves the food hates the people or Dodie with her love hate of Rainbow...

A dive into deep dish pizza, some serious vodka and wine and we were off. Between the garden and view and the feast and wine and our determined good mood we managed to have a lovely party and read a little too.

Despite my anxiety and ongoing frustration with my place (or lack there of) in the experimental writing scene, I found an incredibly warm welcome for my latest work from the group and felt a shared empathy of frustration with Dodie and the limits of the scene, no matter how exceptional it may be.

Another effort at some frequency with this again.

On the Howard Junker front, it seems he is stepping down from Zyzzyva after twenty five years. An amazing achievement, Zyzzyva and one that I hope will persist albeit differently under yet to be determined new leadership. I guess I better get my check and matching contribution in soon. The new leadership may not be so personable.

On other literary fronts, I am digging back into Charles Olson having written a bit too obscurely, according to Kevin, Dodie and the workshop at least, into a recent bit of writing I am excavating him with the help of MAPS NO. 4 and the MAXIMUS POEMS.

On the the past job front a marvelous manic Sharper Image reunion coming up that promises to provide material for many a story to be told.

On the curious connections from that world a prep school connection discovered through Linked In (a generation off) but enough detail (during the war and on to Amherst) to spark a few recollections. The 1940's school paper from my Aunt borrowed and never returned by that fat algebra teacher. And the whole John Knowles concept and the prep school novel as genre. Of course my writing of the Loomis Chaffee school is still too kinky for most audiences.

On the customer service front, drugstore.com is writing a comic monologue for me that I will soon edit. Stay tuned.

Upcoming, Blowdryer event at Modern Times Thursday. Trannyshack retirement party on Saturday. And I'm sure much more, I am missing by omission or intent.

And three months later...back to this again.

Been a busy summer full of surprises from a wonderful Pride and after to a lovely visit to CT with sweet summer breezes and beautiful boys. Work life has been less fun with time having dulled the shine of the new job. But it is a jog and for that I am still grateful.

Recently a I passed along a discount offer on Levi's jeans via email, a bit of spam that got a few curious responses:

From Howard Junker, Editor, ZYZZYVA:

they probably have a matching gifts program so be sure to remember us, hopefully before you write your will.

The do, Howard, and I will...

From a friend:

Hello, how are you? Are you still with Sharper Image? Thinking of you.

Guess he missed the part of the email that said the Levi's offer was from my new job and the news that Sharper Image is no more.

Been a quiet writing summer for me in part from a lot of stress with the new job, a longer walk in and an earlier start ending my mornings at Tully's and most recently working weekends and long days on an extremely frustrating project. I have been again doing Dodie's workshop as well with some work coming out of the experiments and a couple of pieces getting some work there but have also been thwarted a bit by the schedule disorder and somehow managing not get slotted in despite asking. And so this is a small pleasure to return to. Oh, yes a new Bent Boy Book out of to few and out to more soon (pending some more printing, assembly and mailing).

Some seasonal picture updates coming soon.

The fog of Daily City along with the cool afternoon air send me dreaming of adventures to come and adventures already had.

Learning the Levi way and loving it. A feeling of becoming that is amazing and unexpected.

Loving my new walk down Pacific. The city and bridge merge over the crest of Russian Hill and at least in the 6 something AM fog become something out of Sci Fi. So far I've failed to capture on film (if only I could draw I would draw it. That and the flat aspect of these new streets and alleys hold me in a manic rapture on my walks in. I even adore my 1972 (really has the tags and everything!0 cubicle.

Soon to morning my carefully folded and washed waiting to depart other jeans. The Versace's from when Gianni still graced the world. The Lucky's that were so luck when clubs were where you partied with your two thousand best friends. Calvin's from even before. Chip and Pepper and more Chip and Pepper because American made meant LA. And DK's Pure because beautiful and organic and hot were all values I could embrace. Left are my two pair of Levi Premiums because if they didn't cost a lot I didn't want Levi's and my ass still looks great in them. And now to join them Levi's of all stripes even a one of kind pair of 501's that I look good in!

Return to Writing and Art Tee Fizz

See below an announcement from Anne McGuire about her new show at Marjorie Wood Gallery. It is a really great show. Lots of fun clicking away on the stamps revealing the postcards. I too attended the show at the Soap Gallery and encountered Karla Milosevich and her daughter there but not Dodie. Parallel experiences of art and all.

Hope you enjoy this show by these two very talented ladies at the marvelous Marjorie Wood Gallery. X.O. Drew

The MARJORIE WOOD GALLERY ANNOUNCES THE OPENING OF AN ONLINE EXHIBITION OF WORKS BY ANNE MCGUIRE

"From Anne McGuire," works on paper by and from Anne McGuire

accompanied by an essay, "Anne McGuire's Stampede," by Dodie Bellamy

on view, online only, now through May 31, 2008

at THE MARJORIE WOOD GALLERY...

http://www.marjoriewoodgallery.com/exhibitions/mcguire/index.html

______________________________________________________

"Here are a few of the works on paper I've made over the years, mainly postcards. I am inspired by the beauty of postage stamps, and try to incorporate them into the theme of the card. It is also important to create a personalized work of art for the addressee. Many of my postcards have been damaged, wrongly delivered, thrown away, and will never be seen again. That is okay by me, as I enjoy working with these materials, in addition to my usual, electricity-bound and less frequent mode of work, videoart."

---Anne McGuire

______________________________________________________

ANNE MCGUIRE's extensive research has shown that it takes one day for a postcard to travel from mailbox to addressee within her hometown of San Francisco. She would like to stress, as did Len Lye in his 1937 industrial film "Trade Tattoo," it still pays to "post early."

DODIE BELLAMY is a novelist, nonfiction author, journalist and editor, known for her non-traditional use of sexuality, politics, and narrative experimentation. She is one of the originators in the New Narrative literary movement, which attempts to use the tools of experimental fiction and critical theory and apply them to narrative storytelling.

______________________________________________________

FOR MORE INFORMATION

Torch Torture

Tried to watch the torch and protests from the balcony of my Embarcadero office with its lovely view of the promised route. No torch but lots of protests. Not alone in being duped the Secret Service guys downstairs were also out on their balcony cameras and guns at the ready.

Spring Blogging

I am returning this blog to its original stated purpose and writing more intently on and about writing. I will use links and references to connect to other projects and things of interest that may come up. An old idea resurfacing in a digital age:

DrewZin' (rhymes with crusin' & boozin')

"When the world was made flesh, synax became slaughter." Tolmoe-The Perverisity of Personal Perception Part II

DrewZin' is periodCAL-Californian MAG-of Queer Text

Compact (but not a compact per se)-fits in the back pocket of a pair of LEVI'S-Economical-Free B-4 11. Fun and friendly.

Contents Issue 1: Lady excerpt Page 6

"I seek sensation. To touch is to feel. To taste is to tempt. To see is to seduce. To hear is to hunt. To perceive is to pervert. In a freeing I affirm my humanity in acts of affection."

One of my possible projects. As ever I have too many and do too few. I believe without checking that the current list includes (order of typing, numbers for reference only):

1. Next Narrative: SF Stew--Writers Engaging with New Narrative
2. Voluntary Queers (Short Zine like book of Drew's Poetry) After Aaron Shurin
   
3. Drewzin' as described above
4. Collected Experiments--Drew's writing from Dodie's workshop
5. Organizing and submitting (a forever neglected pastime that when I do actually engage with has a reasonable amount of success)
6. Participating in the writing community (readings, sites or non-sites, etc..)
7. And a whole slew of things on notebook pages stacked on my desk

New job coming up soon. Change in the Spring air. Things beginning again. A happening of happenings. Perchance to dance.

Japantown

Cherry blossoms in bloom. Festival starts next weekend.

Pardon our construction
A boy to make of
Love to
Butt
Recant

And so another wild and wonderful weekend.

Super Flat - Forever and Ever

I just put my Murakami essay up here: www.superflatforever.com in honor of the New York show. Check it out if you haven't yet.

April 4th Blog Entry (composed on my ancient PALM and transfered to my computer this morning)

R came to see my new soon to be old office yesterday. Gave him the whole tour. Did a quick bankruptcy shopping tour of the store and then walked home. Ran into Colter on the way home Post and Mason ish on his way to the 49 Geary opening. First Thursday. I had completely forgotten amidst all the recent chaos. And absent an event highlighted by someone I wouldn't pay so much attention. But oh so important in the local art scene. Glad to hear he is working and has upcoming shows. Forgot to mention the Next Narrative project when he asked about writing. Perhaps an email follow up. And maybe it is SF Stew after all. Had forgotten about the clever title but there it was in my latest little green Japanese notebook.

Read my packet of information for my new job and it became even more real. Now I am plotting out my commute and my new schedule. Where will writing and exercise and all that fit? Change is.

A Call for Next Narrative

I have been promising a project (to myself mostly) about New Narrative. Not a history project (though that is something in need of being written if for no other reason than to create an official version with which to engage) but an interaction with New Narrative by writers whose work comes out of the New Narrative world.

My interest is personal and particular. I studied with Bob (Robert Gluck) at SF State and then in his private workshop (post Small Press Traffic). I was also part of Camille Roy's post Bob workshop for a number of years and am still (whenever she has them) an active member of Dodie Bellamy's workshop. This past fall in Dodie's workshop I began writing about an un-dead Steve Abbott's encounters with Dodie, Kevin and Drew (this Drew). I quickly became interested in this way of engaging with New Narrative and am interested in other writing that is doing this.

And so my call for what I now calling Next Narrative with the intent of making something that collects this writing (in print or online) to be called "Next Narrative: Writers Engaging with New Narrative."

Post or send comments and queries and let the evolution begin!

Thursday

Past hump day in every way. Success on the job front. From gadgets to blue jeans. An amazing job journey that takes its next turn in a couple of weeks. Look for my tell all tales of more than a decade inside the temple of toys for big kids.

Did a dry run of walking directly to Market (past our lovely City Hall and Asian Art Museum) and down our main street. About half an hour to Lotta's fountain. Another ten minutes to Tully's now I will just have to see how long the now left turn takes. :-)

I promise new Spring pictures to come soon.

April Foolin'

Having barely survived a turbulent Muni ride this morning (bruises only I am pretty sure) I am now watching the sky light up from my perch at Tully's and day begin for our busy little business world.

Did anyone else see the Gmail custom time? Hysterical and both subtle (gmailers only) and a sign of gmail's arrival.

Decision made on the Valentino. Back it goes. Not perfect and when he is perfect there is nothing else like wearing him so why compromise.

Farmer's Market today (and every Tuesday). Feels like forever since I've been. I hear rumors of Early Girls and other heirlooms. So much to buy so little time to eat.

And so almost every day...

Sunday Sundown

In the end the sun triumphed yesterday late in the day and then today all day. But an icy breeze! BRR.

Hatha Yoga this morning finished the cure of my tortured neck. Just different enough in its flow from the Ashtanga class that I am always just a little lost. Though last night's Ashtanga class was full of Spring with a light almost ticklish air.

A mostly domestic day waiting for the much delayed R to return from his latest trip. Cleaned windows even! (And managed to not drop anything on the church goers below...).

Just finished a gay manga, "Yellow." Read just like anime shows. Delightful! Bought but have not yet read Jocelyn Saidenberg's "Negatvity." From 2006 I think but I have been very lax in keeping up with much of the writing scene that that is new for me. It is all part of my imaging that time does not pass and my feeling that all of experience and time is a flat level surface upon which I exist outside of linearity. Despite the persistence of that belief (too strong?) or feeling, I am again like any good self reformer determined again to engage. I am intrigued by the Non Site Collective. And despite having managed to not get to any of the events yet, I think it will be an opportunity to re-connect. (I just have to read a lot to get caught up and appear learned enough to not feel or appear excessively ignorant).

A San Francisco Saturday

A cloudy day turning almost sunny in the afternoon din of Cafe Flore. Still a threat of cold and an idea of rain (but only if you're unprepared and followed the forecast).

A pretty boy or two but nothing to match the promises of the past and the future. A more serious crowd today engaged in urgent conversations about pressing nothings, re-reading homework for exams to qualify them for a future in something full of opportunity and adventure.

A million directions and distractions pulling me from my writing projects. Do I really like my new Valentino blazer or do I want to return it and buy something else? (Or do I really just want to buy more and more fun clothes to fill our magically re-done closet with fun fabulous expensive clothes I never find occasion to wear like those magnificent Jean Paul Gautier pants?) Should I start with a call for my would be Next Narrative project or prepare a lengthy treatise on it? What about making another little book? I am long overdue with that project (as am I on the updating of my little online projects). And then there is the whole job anxiety. So fraught and full of complex tensions and concerns (much more difficult than shopping where the questions are only does it look good and can I afford it). But no more writing of that with the devil being in the details and the hounds in full cry the game will go until it ends fur flying.

My cricked neck ( a consequence of tension and unchecked allergies) is slowly undoing itself. This afternoons Ashtanga will either advance the healing or leave me crawling home from Club One, I suspect.

My first comment on a recent post from a French blog on a digital video camera. Still unwrapping the connections and perhaps the mystery will never reveal itself to me.

I wonder sometimes if my not every day posting is a failure in this space. It appears to often be the discipline that others demand of their blogs but not one I can imagine managing. I find a certain solace in having a larger gap between posts present the immediate opportunity to do better next time.

Sun still struggling, clouds winning. Off to the writing I am still writing about.

St. Patrick's Day in Connecticut

No green just the leftover grays of winter. Melted snow and ice and lots of sunshine. Just at freezing here in Norfolk making for an icy walk through our fields.

At last amidst my job hunt and R's frequent trips to the various odd corners of the continental US we are enjoying a break together. A few house plans (hanging curtains in the living room, some trim painting) but mostly just down time away from the fray.

All is well in the house except for ever present invading lady bugs who have an abiding affection for R, buzzing him with puppy like passion.

Another gorgeous San Francisco Spring day...it almost made daylight savings not a trauma. Definitely an energy in the air and the city full of folks crawling out of their winter caves in search of something. Castro was abuzz with familiar and fresh faces at Flore. In the familiar, Aaron Shurin and a slightly tipsy Long Wu and in the fresh faces...well if a good story comes on any of it I will of course include it something written and available to the select few.

Am a bit dreading the week ahead and completely excited about the next week back in Connecticut. Still dealing with the work chaos and find a new something to pay for this fabulous bi-coastal literary clubbing lifestyle of mine.

Getting clearer on the New Narrative project/s I am proposing. I think David C. is right about the need for a history but I think first is a New Narrative reader that focuses the conversation. And if the synergy is right then that creates a foundation for my Next Narrative project. I think my first step is to propose the contents of the reader and vette it by the survivors.

This one is really from today live from the corner of California and Davis. The sunshine is almost too intense. That time of year when the light and dark contrasts in these downtown corridors turns the streets into crazy caves without the revelation of truths Plato might portray.

A lovely birthday yesterday: skipped off work early, went for a walk with Ralph, ate caviar and drank champagne. Apart from the getting older faster I think a birthday everyday is an idea whose time has come.

Curious about Dodie's opening/chapbook show but Saturday night...and where is somewhere out on a 23 (street or avenue). Requires reading a map. When I claim to only inhabit the 49 square I exaggerate. My miles are fewer and my excursions to the true limits few.

Soon I will fully articulate my Next Narrative project and make it something in the world but for now off to a pretend play day working but not at work. :-)

Blog Notes

Writing small bits of verse as a kind of careful construction of language to build a composition on.

Lots of little and large projects flying through my mind, all in various states of undone ness. A brief break from the manic job search has reawakened my compositional self. A welcome return to a flow of energy that had been stopped but also the unleashing again of the mania, the unstoppable and dangerous energy of urgency and panic. A good leash held by my own hand might yet contain me. And now again back to the job hunt push. A marathon with few favorable landmarks and no clear indication of a finish line in sight.

Oh, the finish, the surface, the fine polish of it all. And again I am yes and yes and...

More notes to come in this slight system of writing and then not writing in the way that I can and cannot see the keys as I am typing.

I believe that the future is in the doing and undoing of it all. There is not more to say than what has already been said but still I cannot imagine a better way of doing this than the way I am doing it now looking at the windows cut out of the other walls and then the stone made into to towers of hope and cages for the offices of workers going to and fro along the streets of this idle urbs this might forty nine square mile of manic more. A law becomes an observation when its truth is undone by the undoing of its truth by the poets pretense of becoming more than a scribe for the beings above that do not tell the truth but only invent it again from the sounds of something more than silence.

Friday February 29th --- again tech limbo

Another effort to bog today to regain that mad manic feeling of creative happiness. A conflict with the Bruce Boone talk tonight (just adjacent but not enough time to get there).

It will work out...Got resume paper to bring a hard copy to the event tomorrow. Picked my shirt and tie. A little polishing and ironing when I get home tonight.

Dinner with David last night. His boyfriend's bought a Chestnut Street clothing store and David is duly decked out in March Jacob looking a less plump and more prosperous self. And in good generous spirits which are contagious. Wonderful divvy Ethiopian food at Club Waziema, some literary gossip about the folks we know/knew in the SF experimental and/or gay writing scene.

I told David about my Next Narrative idea sprung out of writing about Steve Abbott. He suggested a book about New Narrative, perhaps an oral history.

I too have thought of this but manage to talk myself down out of infinite concerns including my ability to execute and the sheer time commitment of such an undertaking. And yet it gnaws at me. I imagine this is how Kevin got started with Spicer. Perhaps it might begin by writing what I know or think I know of the period and then identify the places where I can discoverer more information (people & archives) I think.

David is right when he says no matter how small it may have been or ephemeral the idea and the influence is still strongly felt and continues to reverberate through the writing scene.

I will begin with some notes on what I know and some inquiries to the people I know. And then this thing will or will not have a life of its own.

Really from Feb 23rd but stuck in tech limbo...

More Oscar Blog-

A quick role call: Kevin & Dodie of course. The always delightful Anne Mcguire, our very own porn star Stephen Boyer (performing under another name or names I think), Maize our Oscar expert without watching any of the films, Masha aka Georgette (who knew!), Emile W. impersonating his female self the artist still known as Emily Wilson, the late arriving dlightfully disruptive Minnette Lehrman and yours truly Drew angry hair and all.

During: lots of off and on screen dialogue mostly unrelated. More conversation even than during a movie at the AMC 1000 on Van Ness. A little distracting from the central premise but then it was almost the incidental excuse for a gathering. A few heated exchanges over politics and agenda. The balance perhaps not quite right with the impervious Oscars at the center of things and group not quite complete but no explosions or irreparable damages done amazingly just some reinforcements of ideas of each other I think.

Kevin's postmortem for fanzine was a nice archiving of it all in a flattering but true light.

Other post mortems suggest the show was a bit flat and not so much fun which affirms my remaining feeling that this peculiar engagement with this year's bloody bunch of Oscars was the best way to be with them.

An amazing evening at the Asian Art Museum with the brilliant and beautiful Emily Wilson. Her blue eyes are a sea of inspiration.

I am again writing on my Palm in a effort to be able to blog without hauling my laptop around.

Two topics to cover:

Asian Museum with Emily Wilson.

Oscar Party with Kevin, Dodie and the workshop crew.

Asian with Emily.

A Thursday night adventure. An almost empty museum except for a cologne saturated tourist from some less scent sensitive region who we just couldn't seem to escape amidst the Buddha's and Chinese paintings. We only managed to escape him by dashing out around the stairs and by the Koret where there was some kind of Kabuki thing happening. Fleeing the attention to artifice and action required by that (I flashed back to the But I'd dragged R and a once special boy too ruining the Sunday afternoon mood and possibilities and Emily just couldn't) we slipped into the Drama and Desire show from the Edo period.

Fabulous and flat and so modern seeming. The drama better than the desire with the frightening exaggerated penis's penetrating the teeny tiny vaginas. I was completely with Emily in not wanting any of that. The opposite of sexy. The bits of horror with crazy dream demons and the detached head were nice though.

The scholar rocks (the original suggestion in my invitation) were weird reply for both of us with some variation. Other works by .... Zahr were at a gallery Emily has recently been at and I had seen a single huge example at the De Young outside the small modern gallery section. At the De Young I had found the concept and result intriguing. Here outside the gallery I felt the same for the pair there but inside I found the rocks next to the sculptures to be a degradation of the art, a lessening of the intensity of the aluminum imagining of nature. And the city of stainless steel kitchen equipment, some on how being a commentary on the Chinese workers and the golden mountain migrations was just too much assembly and too much concept at least at the moment. But the discussion and consideration it provoked for both of us was perhaps an indication that this would be an invasive work that might continue to suggest itself into our consciousness long after the viewing. I certainly agree with Emily that oddly but accurately that the glow of the pieces captured the glow of the city in certain lights. that the Oz like sparkle of it was an achievement, a capturing in this steel sculpture some of the etherealness of the city by the bay.==

Ah but Oscar--so much noise and such an intense shortened enacting of the entire workshop experience in all of tis good bad and ugly was a bit overwhelming. More to come....

Year of the Rat

Looks like a good horoscope for this old snake after all!

Details pasted below for the link challenged.
Not sure how but I lost the little cursor thing so I can't tell where I am until I type. Too annoying to continue. Maybe later...

Snake Ratings

69% (10 favorable, 1 neutral and 1 unfavorable month) This year promises to be a vast improvement over the last one. You are likely, for example, to experience exciting mental stimulation. If you use your brains you can produce some very good results in most areas of your life. Almost every month will provide opportunities, although you might want to take it easy right after the Chinese New Year. Next year should be even better, so you should take time to make plans and begin projects to be completed then.

Snake Career

The fast paced energy given off by the year of the Rat creates a dynamic career environment for the Snake. This spark of energy could inspire the Snake with new and creative ideas resulting in many opportunities. However, in order to take advantage of such opportunities, you may have to take some quick and decisive action. If you are bored with your present work situation, this is a good time to seek greener pastures.

Snake Relationships

The good vibrations that the year of the Rat gave off to your career sector should overflow into your relationships. Your most memorable moments this year will be the intimate ones shared with family and friends. An active social life should be fueled by the almost endless energy of the fast-talking and highly social Rat year. Single Snakes have a wonderful chance to find love and romance, or maybe just one great fling.

Snake Health

All the energy spent in your career and relationships could have a negative impact on your health. Your best bet to stay healthy could be to get in plenty of exercise and engage in some of your favorite leisure activities. You may also be able to further reduce your stress levels and increase your health levels if you are a little bit less secretative with your family members and friends.

Snake Wealth

Your finances seem to be on track to make some healthy improvements. If you have suffered some financial setbacks, you may be able to make a monetary comeback of sorts in the year of the ever-resourceful Rat. Attempt to steer well clear of expensive purchases, especially impulse buys. You will most likely suffer from buyers remorse right after making a large purchase. Under the Earth element, conservative investments may show some profits.

A Cold Foggy Friday in February

The Chinese New Year began yesterday. A week earlier than last year (gotta love that lunar calendar). Year of the Earth Rat. Haven't yet dared to check how that looks for me but if Friday morning yoga turning to spinning (rats on wheel) is any indication it could be another year of living in "interesting times."

Personally I am liking the new semi-season of Lost. It seems to have recaptured the complicated mystery without slipping into super complex hard to follow or accept plot turns. Not so much that Eli Stone that follows. Yes for the SF setting and a little for some of the cast and concept but that weird composite San Francisco that doesn't quite exist (some actually shooting and then filling in of backgrounds). Maybe it will grow on me.

Been days and days of not writing sending emails and getting reconnected in avid pursuit of a new job. A bit like a diet or new exercise plan it is a painful start but slowing easing into a rhythm. Striking how much alike my two selves really are and how many abilities cross over when I let them. Perhaps I will find a way to be famous in one or the other or both lives.

Too cold in this darn Tullys to type. Time for a refill!

Super Tuesday! Ballots in my bag ready to be delivered. Two phone calls a day every day for the last two weeks from the Barack Obama folks got us off the fence and firmly in the Hillary Clinton camp. Last night when I explained that to the Obama caller she had the temerity to call back to apologize. What is it about these people that they don't get it. LEAVE ME ALONE!

Given my track record on such things I will no doubt be voting for Obama in November. Ah, politics.

Nothing like a little sunshine to improve moods and dispositions. A little more warmth wouldn't hurt either.

Terrible drought of writing not for lack of things to write but for lack of time and psychic space. I don't recommend job hunting unless you have to, which I do. Takes a lot of creative energy this inventing/reinventing of the self.

Just picked up the new Instant City. Looking forward to checking out Blowdryer's interview of August Bleed. Might make it to CCAC to hear Dodie's lecture tonight. Torn (mostly because I loathe getting to there from anywhere).

Farmers market today. I think vegetables for roasting and such. Love the hemp bags we got for Norfolk and now here, perfect for groceries and the farmers market and easy to stuff into my overstuffed back pack. Light and super strong. Will try to find the source and recommend it.

Next Narrative is a bit on hold with all this job strum and drang but not forgotten. Except for fear on onslaught of material I almost think to put something in Ampersand.

Friday Morning at Tullys. Dry and not too cold. Mostly because I wore my new cute Cole Hahn rain boots and Iceberg black down jacket. Nothing like being prepared for a cold wet winter day to stay it. Can't quite get used to the new crowd of boys serving the coffee here. The girls were prettier and much better at it. Ah well, change...

New Sara Brightman and new Lost last night. So much new in a world of repeats. New fennel recipe too. A new day dawning...

Time for a refill a new habit that I will likely soon drop.

Almost finished with Andy Quan's Six Positions. Been an interesting arch. I was completely in love with the writing and the book at the beginning and then about 3/4s of the way through it felt OK but not so exciting. I am anxious to see how it ends and then settles in. Likely to get more of his writing but a little less urgent now than I was at the beginning when I found his work to have more affinity with mine and the prose of Aaron Shurin.

On an entirely superficial note I also wanted him to be prettier. While we all lose are charms in the end or even sooner the sex positive gay writers I admire never quite seem to be as hot as their writing would seem to suggest. Of course what readers I have no doubt feel the same way.

Supposed to be another rainy weekend and will probably be a quiet one hiding from the chaos and saving money in fear of impending disaster. Can't wait!

A semantics of erotics, an exploration of a nation obsessed. Is this the beginning of the end of an entry? I am enjoying another icy morning at my Tully's table overlooking the corner of California and Davis reading Andy Quan and staying away from the office as long as I can. Too too many to dos and too too much upheaval in the world. Oh for some simple eros, some pure passionate compelling distraction to replace a cold winter day with the deep heat of desire.

Put up my winter picture from Norfolk of the school house in snow. For those who don't know the school house is next to the house that Ralph and I renovated (with a tiny bit of contractor intervention ;-> see our shutterfly site for more details.) The School House finally got lifted up, straightened out and reshingled (the original shingles from the house) this past spring. Bill Dobbins then stained in before winter (thanks again Billy!). A future guest house we hope.

A light rain today and a decent brunch at Sparky's. A couple of good finds at Advark Books (did a decent shelf clearing the other week so maybe OK...). One an Andy Quan collection which is so far delicious. I knew his work from other places but missed this 2005 collection.

The MILK staging of the Castro continues and the subtle bits of staging are a delightful discovery. Can't wait to see how it all turns out. If I can get my phone not to have another nervous breakdown I will upload some pictures of these crazy signs and "restored" facades.

Missed Anne's movie. Blocked by an arc. Noah you really should watch where you park that thing!

Seriously too too too much rain to do anything. But did get these very fun cute Cole Hahn series G boots to keep my feet happy and dry. Secretly 50% off which I only discovered in reverse sticker shock at the register. Not classic retailing for sure but made me glad I'd gone with the upgrade from the Rockports.

Watched Sybil (the movie with Joanne Woodward & Sallie Field) last night. Had seen it on TV years ago. Still great after all these years. Just want to know how to get a therapist like Joanne Woodward. Send suggestions please.

Happy Thursday. 24 degrees in Norfolk, CT according to my little weather channel icon. Sounds cold but assuredly feels balmy compared to our arctic SF weather this week. BRR. Though not as much rain as expected. That has something to do with a breakaway front wondering around like at a drunk in the street according to Ralph who read it on SF Gate. Drunk weather doesn't seem like a good idea at all.

Another busy morning reviewing and revising my get a job tools. Bleh. Work getting work.

Hoping to make it to Anne McGuire's Adventure Poseiden The- from Anne:

As it was meant to be seen - END FIRST!

(My version is a precise cut-by-cut re-edit, from end to beginning. . . .)
at - ATA, 992 Valencia St
on - Friday, Jan. 25
in - the PM 8:000
for - 6 slim dollars

If you did not get to see it back in March at SF MOMA,
this is your chance!

Please go to link for more info:
http://www.atasite.org/calendar/?x=2770


Listened to the new Kylie CD X all weekend. Got the deluxe edition with a great DVD extra of a video and an interview. The video is an amazing Kylie meets Madonna, meets David Bowie, meets Marc Almond meets the Pet Shop Boys meet Dalida extravaganza. And the interview is articulate and interesting.

Started adding books to Good Reads. Prompted by a surprise invite to be a friend from Velcro aka Judith followed by another from Donal. Adding by author has me discovering a few unread titles from writers I thought I'd completely read (looking forward to that).

On reading front, the discovery of Bob's Sex Story in an old Gay Sunshine Anthology on a rainy MLK Day has prompted me to dive back into the lush land of Elements of a Coffee Service. Nice young Bob picture in the back too. Amazing to think it came out 11 years before we moved to San Francisco. 1982, I was still playing Boy's Games in prep school creating material full of sex and violence. Oh those halcyon days.

Am getting more and more excited about doing a project around engagement with New Narrative writing and writes. Now the trick will be to find time and means in the midst of my paying job chaos and collapse. I am almost ready to describe the project in detail. One I do that I think it will begin to have a life of its own.

All for now.

A warmer Wednesday. No fog today. An entirely new crew (save one) at Tully's. Seems to happen every time I am away for a while.

Just finished some edits to Boy Brothel. Next back to my Steve Abbott piece and the possible New Narrative project.

Later today I will have my quarterly bleeding. A delightful bit of barbering required by all that lovely inbreeding over the centuries that made me the delightful impoverished aristocrat I am. If I were a visual artist I would find some way to install the remnant blood somewhere. Maybe I will ask Donal to photograph it for me sometime. I think it would look well with his other work.

And of work there is forever drama and trauma in the bad business of making a living but also some new intrigue. If only I could not take it as seriously as I do and must.

Back to stealing a few more minutes of morning...

Fabulous foggy morning. An elegant skateboarder slaloming down McAllister into the mist. An almost invisible city hidden below Nob Hill. A brisk and cold morning walk imagining more than a century ago when my walk from Alamo Square over Nob Hill to the Tully's at California and Davis would have been an adventure.

After Xmas and New Years, both spent in a mostly snowy corner of Connecticut. A lovely winter wonderland vacation from my paying job and one from which I didn't want to return. But alas money must be made or the world would not go round and round. So here I am back in SF at my Tully's pushing the limit of lateness in arriving at my glamorous office to make money for my company and me.

No resolutions but some better intentions for 2008. Most to do with being more focused and diligent in my pursuits.

A happy start on the publishing front. "To Sex a Story" is to appear in 580 Split sometime later this year. More details to come but got the contract yesterday and will send that and my bio off this weekend.

Thinking of trying to do a zine of writing about or in relationship to New Narrative by writers who came after New Narrative, perhaps calling it New Narrative. I have recently been writing about Steve Abbott and think perhaps others have material that engages with the living and the dead of this truly San Franciscan writing movement. Again more details to come as I try to figure out how and who and what and all that.