jawnbc | musings from the city by da Bay

Salaam y'all,

I'm in my buddy Bill's Lower Haight flat, enjoying the civilities of a wireless connection to his DSL. No cable, no fuss, no muss....ça marche pour moi! It's been a reasonably productive day of PowerPointing my presentation for tomorrow (on sobears, a/k/a sober bears, of which I am one). That paper's for the queer preconference; I'm giving one on AIDS prevention workers, their injection drug using clients and the power dynamics of their relations at the main AERC (Adult Education Research Conference) the day after. But I was too fatigued to press on and set up both presentations...later this evening or tomorrow arvo will do just fine.

After a lazy morning, I shuffled the 20 minutes walk down to the Castro, for a Super Veggie burrito at the tacqueria, then set down to working at Starbears. I tried to see if my dormant account for the Starbucks wireless network would work, but to no avail. Just as well: no doubt I'd have been on gaydar, fending off hundreds of suitors...and I'm not entirely sure I wanna pursue much 'recreation' while in SF. My hearts pre-occupied with

querrelle...

My first trip here was in 1991. In the year previous I'd quit drinking and left a totally fooked relationship. So SF was my prezzie to myself. I found the town nice and the guys very friendly (no attitude). But I didn't fall in love with it. Then Bill moved down here from Seattle, and I had a legitimate reason to come down..and began to rider the rollercoaster that is gay tourist life here. On previous trips here I've learned the following:

+ some guys (not all) will talk romance when they want a good boink...S/M stands as much for sales and marketing as, well, S/M
+ "Event weekends (IBR, Folsom, Pride, Living Sober) bring a flood of tourists--and a frantic, "gotta make my Colt fantasy happen" obsessive disorder among many boys
+ There's a reason why the room in the back of Blow Buddies is covered in plastic tarps...and no one else wears cowboy boots in it (yeah, there's a story there)

I've come here chasing those "Colt moments" and left feeling like a bag of shite. And I've come and refused to chase dick at all. In my advanced age (LOL) I've learned the joy of "shopping to shop" rather than "shopping to buy." If you get my drift. So instead I chase good Mexican food. I'd describe my relationship with SF today as "special". I tend to visit a couple of times a year (at least from Vancouver, which is only a 2 hour flight away), and have made a lot of good acquaintances down here--and Bill and I are still great friends.