Feeling Fine

The helicopters have finally moved away from over my apartment -- they've been following the middle-east protesters as they move around the city. Still going strong from yesterday, I guess, which makes sense for a conflict thousands of years in the making.

Today began with a long conversation about a deceased coworker. I believe today would have been her birthday, and I ran into a friend of hers (also a coworker) on MUNI and neither of us could stop ourselves from talking. It is still so shocking to me how a life can get cut so short and so quickly, and how the aftermath and its impact on people will be settling like fall-out for years to come.

But for every death, there is the counter-balm of birth. Tonight, I found out a dear friend of mine from college is pregnant, something I know she's wanted for a very long time. I'm thrilled for her, and her family, and so happy to hear there is someone who is closing out '08 with blessings and happiness.

Everywhere else I read it's goodbye and good riddance to 2008. Such a shitty news cycle -- Arianna Huffington chronicles it all in her post today, everything from Spitzer and his call girl to Palin and her "team of mavericks" to total economic collapse. What a year.

I personally also can't wait to turn the page to 2009. To feeling fine in '09! To having a good time in '09! Happy-almost-new year.

Marketing is Everything

As Israel bombs the balls out of the Gaza Strip, the protesters in San Francisco come out of the woodwork to meet outside the Montgomery station and chant their piece. One woman was wearing a sign that said, "Gaza: The Jewish Holocaust." I'm not sure what side that puts her on. Is she saying that Palestinians are perpetrating a "holocaust" on the Jews of Gaza, or is she saying that the Jews ie Israel are perpetrating a "holocaust" on Gaza? I don't get it either way, but pine for the days when protest was just a simple no to this, or anti-sign that. Too much room for interpretation muddles the cause.

This evening, my sister back in town, we went to a restaurant I swore I'd never return to, Luna Park. It's just too hipster and loud and expensive, and it bore me out all over again. I ordered broccoli mac and cheese that was good but so rich that I could barely get five bites in before I was ready to surrender. My sister ordered a turkey "blue plate special," that actually came out on a blue plate, except the blue plate was all sectioned off like those plates you see at soup kitchens with areas for mashed potatoes, green beans, etc. In one of the slots, they had this cheap candle, and she said it made her feel embarrassed to be eating it, like the restaurant was calling out her cheapness with a flare, and that the presentation made good gourmet food taste like crap.

Everything is marketing. The future is plastics.

Sunny Sunday

Sunshine day, warm here at the end of the year. The bulldogs and terriers are strutting through the castro like little doggie kings. This is always the quiet time of year, when the city clears out and normally it rains and rains and I hibernate. But this year, it's cold but clear. Good walking weather. Good get-outta-the-house and do something with yourself weather. I went on a walk, not sure what I would find.

There's a new sandwich place that opened up a few blocks from my place that I've been hearing raves about, so I popped my head in there to read the menu. The options were overwhelming: turkey chicken blah blah lettuce hummus on a blah blah with blank bread. I looked away from the menu for a second to find the guy at the register staring at me expectedly. "Just looking," I explained, as if I was in a retail store checking out the coats or something. Then turned on my heel, and left.

Back outside to the day, the sun. There are these small patches of trees that are still stuck in fall, mellow orange and red leaves complementing the christmas lights. I treated myself to the tea place, where the practice is patience. With my book I sat through unhurried service, drinking my earl gray, sipping up the tea and snippets of surrounding conversations: yoga and service dogs and courseloads and double kisses on the cheek.

After, I walked up to the Castro's nexus, got solicited for money, almost tripped over a bichon, and watched a seemingly ownerless black poodle sprint past the cake shops and brunch places serving all-you-can-drink mimosas. The dog was clearly revelling in his freedom running wanton and then he stopped abruptly to take a giant shit splat in the middle of the sunny sidewalk before taking off again. Someone nearby laughed, said, "that would have made a funny picture."