San Francisco, Synchronicity, other Miscellanea, and a Proclamation.

San Francisco, Synchronicity, Other Miscellaanea & a Proclamation

I have not posted for awhile. These are some very quick RANDom Thoughts, in buckshot dispersion method. I’m trying to get caught up from the last round of being sick, and I just got back from (almost) a week in San Francisco, where it was sunny, and the weekend that I had free after the conference, the temperature was in the 60s and 70s. It was 11° F when I left Chicago last Tuesday.
The Conference was good. I think the presentation I was a part of went well, and did I mention it was over 70° when I was there, in the Castro? I HEART San Francisco! This Friday (February 6) is my birthday, so the extra days there, post conference was my birthday gift to myself. Good things happened, while at the conference. I have more to write about, and an announcement to make, but not until Friday.
Given my recent bouts of sickness, I geeked up and wore the surgical mask while in the airports and on the plane. When I got back to Chicago, I was waiting for my bag at the carousel and a woman came up to me and said, “I wear masks when I fly too. I have an immune deficiency.”
I replied, “I have CVID.”
“Me too! I knew there was a reason I had to come up and talk to you!” She introduced herself—we did ‘air hand shakes’. Bonnie is her name.
“People tend to avoid me when I mask up”, I replied.
We chatted a few minutes waiting for our bags. She told me about a doc/specialist she went to in NYC, and she has just gone off of the monthly IVIG. We exchanged cards, to discuss further. She was concerned that most all the others’ bags had come. I’m used to being one of the last to get my bag. She then realized she was at the wrong carousel. Synchronicity! You know I’m not a believer in a god. And I have written before about my appreciating for Jungian psychology and his theory or Synchronicity —meaningful coincidences. I love it when shit like this happens. It was the perfect way to end this very interesting trip. My bag comes by finally. Bonnie asks, “Are you coming from NY also?
No, I’m returning home from San Francisco.” Bonnie had gone to the wrong carousel, found me, and we started talking. TOTAL SYNCHRONICITY, with meaningful mistakes. She should not have been waiting for her bags where I was.
I’m making a proclamation that 2009 is going to be the year that does NOT SUCK SHIT! After a bumpy start with the URI, some events have occurred which are going have great impact on me and my future. This I will write about the end of the week for my birthday post on Friday. Please feel free to send lavish gifts.
For those of you wishing to acknowledge the date, to help counteract the universe for me being born on he same day as ronald reagan, (that festering boil on the ass of this nation's history, which ahs now been taken over by the blighted cancer of w & cheney w ho are to true cancers of this nation's history). But I digress Getting gifts and new cloths would easy my pain of sharing a bd with rr,,l rather than Abe Lincoln, my hero.

I did my portion to help the economy of SF by making some clothing purchases. But, My favorite store, “All American Boy” closed down! I was SO bumbed! I arrive last Tuesday at the Marriott, check, and head out the door, to catch the F street car down to the Castro. I have to eat, so hit the little diner I've eaten at before on Castro, just off Market. Receiving my shopper's sustenance, I head a across the street, pass by a dark, empty store with some signage of All American Boy Remaining. I am crestfallen. This is where I bought my ‘Castro 2004, 2003, 2001” annual shirts from when I visite in past years. I must get my “Castro 2009” shirt! I find it back across the street at a new store IN JEAN IOUS. It’s not AAB, but I walk out with some bargains.

Saturday night, on the recommnedation of one of the guys at Parker Guest House B&B, I go to Chow Restaurant at 215 Church st, just off Market. In the Castro, SOMA (South of Market). I ate at this restaurant 3 times in less than 24 hours. If I were doing Dr. Mark’s little survey I’s have a restaurant to add. CHOW is great. Organic food, good, food, and you can tell these people enjoy working there. I like going to a restaurant saying, “I can decide between such and such, and s/he proceeds to tell you details about the dishes you asked about in great detail with the things they like about the particular dish.
I will have more to tell about SF. But I must wait until later in the week for reasons that will become obvious. For now I’m back, tired (but healthy—say something to the Buddha so I stay healthy. More later when I’m vaguegly cogent. ©wtf4/rle

Do these pants make my ass look fat? ©

In some ways I fit into the occasional stereotypes of the gay man—I love theatre, and musical theatre and even (especially) showtunes. I don’t really follow sports, and I was never athletic. I sucked so badly in Little League, and the one year I played (sat on the bench) basketball in Jr. High.

In other ways I don’t fit the stereotype. My apartment is usually messy. I’m a packrat. Martha Stewart would go apoplectic or have a TIA if she paid an unexpected visit. Friends tell my apartment is very comfortable, homey and welcoming. That’s more important to me than making sure the magazines are in a perfect fan splayed across the coffee table.. I’m not an A&F pretty boy model. Now, I’m NOT butt ugly. I’ve just never been cover boy material. Sometimes I let my hair (what’s left of it on my head) grow long before getting it cut, usually have weekend scruff. I like to think that I dress well, but I’m not what fashionistas would call a ‘label whore’—with the exception of Kenneth Cole. I buy his clothes and shoes for three reasons: I like the cut and fit of his clothes and shoes on my build; I love his look; and I love that his ads are Left Wing (or anti-Right Wing) political. It took a hefty pair of gonads to do that when he first started out. Any corporate entity that openly (or subtly) bashes "W" wins my retail dollars. And the converse it true. I boycott.

Over the weekend, I happened to see a posting on Craig’s List for a garage sale. By nature of the location of the posting, I knew that it was gay men who doing the selling, and had listed lots of clothes. Over the past few years, I’ve lost over 50 pounds, and in particular, ~ 15 this past year. Most of my clothes are very loose on me now (which feels like a great accomplishment). Even my “skinny jeans” (remember Miranda, Sex and the City) are loose. I really don’t fit in the hip hop world, so having my pants below my butt crack is not a good look on me. I’m really not in a financial position to replenish my wardrobe. So, I thought “gay men’s garage sale? I should check it out”.
This garage was better stocked that some Salvation Army resale shops! I was finding Kenneth Cole, Hugo Boss, Ben Sherman (and even an Armani shirt that fit me—and it’s even purple!). Some may argue that the mere fact that I even know these names makes me a guilty party. OK, I was for a brief moment in time, a “label whore”. When I’d filled up 2 kitchen garbage bags, I stopped. Also, it was cold and I was getting hungry.

I went home. I tried everything on. All the pants fit very well. Some of the shirts a bit big, but I knew they would be as they were M and I can now pretty much wear S in most shirts. Having downed a sandwich and warmed up, I decided to drive back across town and hit it again before they closed down. Andy was bagging things up as I arrived. He remembered me. Andy asked what I was looking for. “31 inch waist and small shirts.” I was power shopping. Two more kitchen bags filled, and I was back on my way again. For $36. I got 16 pairs of pants, 13 shirts, 2 ties, and a wool scarf. Not bad for a Sunday. But I am a bit embarrassed that I bought the Armani and Hugo Boss solely for the names. Is there a 12 step program for label whores?
Oh, btw-my ass looks great in the Hugo Boss! © rle/wtf