Good-Bye Happy Hour

For my last night in SF I'd like to invite you to come out tomorrow to a chill early evening at Farmerbrown in downtown. Just a simple, laid-back chance to say good-bye and thank you for the summer. The food is amazing, the atmosphere is sexy, and happy hour is from 5-7; I'll be there from 5 til probably 8. Hope you can make it.

Farmerbrown
25 Mason @ Market, near Powell BART/MUNI
(doesn't really look like a restaurant from the outside; look for the graffiti)
5-8pm
TUES, July 31st


http://www.farmerbrownsf.com/location.html

Requiem for Tammy Faye

I am sitting next to my sister right now at my folks' place. Mai asked if I had seen Tammy Faye on CNN, and then we looked up the video on YouTube.

So sad. She looks so frail. And her voice is so weak; she reminds me of my host grandmother back in Japan when I went to visit her in the hospital (obaachan had been going through medical complications due to her cigarette habit). Mai also noted that Tammy Faye looks all the more frightening because on top of being a so wasted away, she's still incredibly done up.

I thought she looked like Ellen Burstyn in Requiem for a Dream, at the end of the film when she's a riddled out speed freak.

Have we no respect for the dead?

I bought a new book today

"The Mother Garden" by Robin Romm. I read most of the stories from earlier publications in various magazines. Hope the collection is good.

I got my hair cut yesterday. It's hard to explain. I'll have to show pictures.

I also took my friend Billy to Good Vibrations -- the sex shop. I had to explain to him that the clean carpet, well lit, squeaky clean condition of Good Vibes is not to be expected in any other sex shop. The other ones are usually seedy, if not humid feeling. And if they have "arcades"/coin-op porno booths, more than likely the rest of the shop has a salty smell to the damp air. Also also unlike Good Vibes they seem to have walls that, when you touch them, seem to feel like it's wriggling beneath your hand (what with all that semen swarming).

I saw the "after" scene of a drive-by shooting today

On my way back from the gym this afternoon I stopped by Ross in the hopes of finding a pair of Dr. Marten's boots. (Ross, I am now completely sure, is the biggest freakshow -- it attracts a lot of people that have no problems with diving through the racks like animals and leaving the discarded refuse where they fall, with or without hangers.)

Anyways, on Ellis, after clearing the busy commercial street of Powell I saw cop cars boxing the end of the block at Mason. There was yellow tape around the cop cars and along the perimeter were lots of rubberneckers. Families, tourists, kids with their eye-balling parents. The CSI scene was complimented with a gray sedan on the side of the blocked off street. Its windows were shattered all over the pavement. There were bullet holes punched into its doors which the cops were measuring.

There was also blood on the pavement. I slowed down enough to see that.

The gawkers were leaning over the yellow police tape with their camcorders and digi-cams out. And they were documenting this: a crime sight that obviously involved the dramatic injury of at least one human being.

I wanted to say something snide to these people. Something like, "Very classy, taking pictures like that!" But I didn't because part of me slowed down to be entertained by the spectacle too.

I have noticed a parallel between punker boys and fags

As someone who was a teenage punker and goth, and a damn proud faggot, I took note on a BART ride this evening. These three punked-out early teenagers entered the train, and boarding with them was an equally punked out, fish-netted, safety-pinned-speckled-black-backpack-wearing young lady friend. She was simply a friend; a girl who plays with boys.

In other words, these boys had (what I have noticed consistently amongst small groups of punker boys): the urban young rocker equivalent to a fag hag.

Like stereotypical fag hags, these Punk Pugs (as I now dub them), tend to be bigger, kinda homely looking, girls who adore and flutter around the wanna-rock-hard boys. Instead of going to the clubs, the Punk Pug will be there at the shows/concerts and enjoy sharing their mate's mutual appreciation for eyeliner and chipped nail-paint.

Now that I think about it, my ex-girlfriend Daphny was/is a Punk Pug.

DJ BERKLEY TO PERFORM THIS FRIDAY!!!

It is now official:

DJ BERKLEY will be performing in full -- Macklin, Robert, and Me -- in the Mission this Friday the 13th! It truly shall be an unlucky day for the injustices of the world. DJ BERKLEY shall fist a new hole into oppression with NEW genious poems. And maybe even a cover of one of Paris Hilton's prison poem.

This is DJ BERKLEY's first performance in SF in over a year!

For those not in the know:

DJ BERKLEY is the Worst Spoken Word Artist in the World, having congealed from the love juices of Full House's DJ Tanner (Candace Cameron) and Saved by the Bell's Elizabeth Berkley (aka Jessie Spano). As the world's foremost radical and profound artist, writer, activist, poet, vaginist, gender-queer, post-sexual, and last remaining dinosaur, DJ BERKLEY fights centuries of oppression through the awesome power of spoken word.

WHERE: 737 CAPP STREET btw 22nd/23rd St
WHAT: Benefit for new documentary about legendary tranny performer, Vicky Marlane (SF's "girl with the liquid spine")
WHEN: Fri. 13, at 8pm