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Maybe I Won't Breakfast at Caffe Mediterraneum, note the spelling. There's a sign inside near the ceiling about 14 feet long Caffe Mediterraneum and I managed to spot it somewhere between the business section and Dilbert. A little artsy-fartsy, but what the hell, I was a Latin scholar in high school, have a Latin dictionary up there somewhere on the shelf, it's still a good place to eat. Up at 7:00, now known as 8:00. Thought about bagging it and skipping the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence block party in the Castro, which is fine, I always do that. Talk with self, chuck self under the chin, shake head sadly, roll eyes, look it up on the map. Right there at Market, a piece of cake. The day is nice. It is now 11:30. Adventure awaits. The Castro district of San Francisco has changed in 18 years. Muni, for example. Up one flight from the BART exit and step on Muni, which is now underground. Last I took this line it ran down the middle of Market Street, stopping at every block. Exit the Muni at the corner of 17th and Castro at 12:30 in the afternoon and step into the party in full swing.
Two and a half hours, six rolls of film. Shooting for me is moving through
I'm tired as I'm writing this. Good day out in the sun, but tiring as well
Through the magic of procrastination it's Monday evening. Things have been arranged and after a run to the local Lucky Store to purchase things that will fit through a straw, I will retire to arise and take a cab to Palo Alto to arrive by 7:00. I am to return Friday with my jaw wired tight, but no external structures as I'd originally thought. Probably a bit black and blue. Red onion on a stick. Probably won't post another entry until Saturday, words from red onion land. Maybe I'll take a photograph in a mirror. Maybe I won't. |
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a crowd, continuously looking for an interesting face, stopping, shooting,
stopping and shooting again. The "Sisters" were out in force, a day to
lay on the elaborate drag and freak out the straights, photographers welcome
for a change. There were the usual tables selling merchandise, in this case
things like CDs of the San Francisco gay choir, clever T-shirts, balls
and cock shaped hash pipes, funny little animals in purple suits all
slanted toward the Sisters, of course, a group primarily involved in raising
money for charity, AIDS relief being a big recipient. That's why there was
a bunch of smoke, but little fire in all this. It's hard to get too worked
up about people dressing in drag habits, even on Easter, when the purpose
is so god damned politically correct.
and I don't write so good when I'm tired and my brain is in park. Have
this operation coming up Tuesday, so tomorrow is clean up what's needed
at work, go down to Palo Alto for an xray and a last minute exam, ask
them some more questions, how long in the hospital, how long in recovery
at home. How many days before I'm able to write this again.