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  Weekend Report

21 June 1999

6:52 PM: The whistling in the intro to "Space Klown" is so wistful...

So, busy busy. Managed to get outside, eat brunch, go see Sissy Bar play, and make it to a party thrown by some people at work, all on Saturday. No wonder I slept until 7 PM Sunday.

"Some people", right. Coy much? It was in fact hosted by, among others, my office crush. That was a pretty strong reason to go and to not go, no surprise. But there was something of a theme to it, of making this night be the one you do that stuff you really ought to do, or intend to do someday. No more excuses, like. So I figured what the heck. What could happen?

Then I thought about all the things that could, in fact, happen, now that you ask. But I went anyway.

It was OK. I was glad I went, but there weren't very many people I knew, and it was a typical railroad flat affair, where everyone spends most of their time squeezing through the narrow hallway to get from one too-small room to the other. This works if you recognize faces and can pull out into a little tidal pool for a bit, but it's not a great environment for meeting new people. Especially if you're pathetically inept socially. There was dancing, but I didn't feel like totally humiliating myself, thanks to the lack of hard liquor.

It was a reason to put on my old wool suit and shock people who only ever see me in t-shirts, that's fun. I chatted with some people here and there, looked around, spied into the CD and book collections, tried to identify figures in family portraits. Standard new-house prowler. Managed to not make a fool of myself with any of the hosts or hostesses. And when the lights started to get a little too bright and close, I just left instead of staying around and being all martyry. See, I can get smarter.

Sissy Bar were good but the set was too short! dang it. The songs on the new CD are a lot closer to their live sound than the first one was, but it's still different enough to make it worth hearing them play. As if just watching them play wasn't reason enough. Ahem.

Plus I got to see my friend in the band, who I hardly ever do on account of her living in LA and me not and stuff. Hey, just think, when they get that high-speed rail line built, I can drop in unexpectedly for the weekend! Bet she'll like that a whole bunch.

Brunch was nothing special. I went up the street to give The Grind another shot. Their potatoes still suck, but I found that they serve this special "Bacon, Sausage, Cheese, & Mushroom 3-Egg Scramble", and it's hard to argue with that. I could even overlook the barely-warmed bread that they dared to call 'toast'.

Still, I could barely finish it. This is distressingly familiar. Who did I know who couldn't tolerate coffee, whose digestion got more & more finicky as he got older & older, who never really did much of anything but sat around a lot and spouted off to a bunch of people who really didn't care what he had to say? Hmmmmm....

Today today I was supposed to go to a meeting at 9:30 AM, and I gave it a good shot. I was at the train stop at 8:45. But it was not meant to be - MUNI got underground and mostly stayed there, finally disgorging us a bit more than an hour later. The meeting only lasted half an hour, so pretty much I had gotten only two hours of sleep and dragged my increasingly sorry ass all the way down here for nothing, thanks to the San Francisco Municipal Railway. Here's to you, fellas!

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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