This, that and the other thing

…Starting with the other thing…..

Remember in my last post how I was describing the rude ass uber bear bore? Did I mention that he was local? And that it would be likely that we’d cross paths again? Well, he is and we did. He came into the Lone Star on Saturday night, with his hot cubby boy-whatever as I was chatting with an old bar aquaintance, Terrence*. He (Terrence*) said “Oh look, here comes the ex-con I dated last year” Of course, he was referring to the asshole. I said “Oh REALLY? HIM? …. Umm…What, EXACTLY did he do to land himself in prison?”I asked. Mistaking my question for an interest in him and his dreary sex life, he began “Well, the date wasn’t much fun, and He wasn’t much interested in me or anything and….”WHAT. . .  WAS . . .  HE. . . CONVICTED . . .  FOR??? I shouted. You see by now, I realised that this asshole may just have become a murderous asshole, and I had to know RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

“Oh, I think it was drugs or something” Terrence* said, before plunging himself and me once more into a blood drying, bone powderingly boring account of his dreary life.

So that’s it. I’ve made enemies with a belligerent, felonious, ex-convict…asshole. Yay.

On a far cooler note, I met up yesterday with the legendary Moby.We met for lunch in the castro, and I have to say it’s quite true, he DOES have a motor mouth and he also is MUCH handsomer in real life. In particular, his photos just don’t give his eyes justice, I have to say. It’s hard to take your eyes off of them, they’re like hallmark store  paperweights or something.  Anyway, he holds conversation as well as he blogs, so you can imagine, it was an interesting time.  Oh and I got to feel the bionic metallic structure in his shoulder from his recent accident. It felt kinda cool. His DNA tatt is awesome in real life, too.

So I have to say that there truly is no place quite like the Castro. I mean, where else are you going to see – on a Saturday morning no less – a guy walking down the street bare ass naked except for a pair of riding chaps and boots? I mean, where is he going? To the dentist? Grocery shopping?

I do miss Sunday mornings with Jay Leno. He can always be found, tooling around Van Nuys, North Hollywood and Burbank in one of his many insanely cool antique cars. Can’t say I miss much else about LA, though.  I do indeed very much miss the Eagle and all of the great guys there, though. That crowd is hard to beat, and they are very much missed.

 

*not his real name

tail in the city

So I wrote something really (quite unintentionally) misleading in my last post, and I want to correct it now, and tell what really happened.

Here’s the botched line:

Later, I have more to tell, including how I almost got thrown out of the LoneStar on Saturday night for punching a belligerent Bear’s face in.

OK,  it really should have read thusly:

Later, I have more to tell, including how I almost punched a boorish assholes face in at the Lonestar for being a totally unacceptable rude shithead. I’m sure if I had, I certainly would have been thrown out. Film at 11.

So I can’t write. So sue me. Or call me Sue.

What happened was I was at the Lonely stare, or the Loin Scare, or the Lone Star- whatever you call it. It was about 11pm or so, and I was out in the back patio, you know..where the cigar,cigarette AND PIPE SMOKERS GO. ..And I was just smoking my pipe, minding my business, eavesdropping on other’s business, and basically generally trying to get some touch. In other words, just doing the routine I’ve done a million and ten times before, all over the world, including at the lone star itself, back in the day. So I go to stand over near this wall, and there ae 3 bears standing there. One is about my build, bald with a sandy brown beard. typical generic bear. His BF was a cute cub type. The type that usually falls all over himself to cruise me. So I stand there and the bald one says “Hey, get outta here. That fuckin thing stinks. Go somewhere else.”

OK, I have to admit, I was totally gobsmacked. NEVER in all the 20-odd years that I’ve smoked a pipe, in bear bars (hell-in ALL bars) all over the planet has anyone EVER … E V E R reacted like that to pipe smoke. In fact, I’d estimate that the number of times guys have gone out of their way to tell me variations of “that smells wonderful..it reminds me of my Uncle/Father/Brother/Au Pair/pet iguana….because they smoke a pipe, too”-ad nauseum ad infinitum, is somewhere up in the mid jillions. Really. So yeah, I was totally shocked. Not just that, but how loud and abrupt and…mean he was about it. I stared at him wondering for a millisecond if he was kidding. The scowl on their faces told me instantly that they were indeed not joking and that I was as welcome in their presence as a cocksucker in a convent.

So…I said “ok” and left, with my tail between my legs. I mean, I’m usually pretty quick with a clever response, but #1 I was out of my element, in an unfriendly city with my circle of support 400 miles away, and #2 I was, as I said, stunned.

So I went over to Blow Buddies- the nearby sex club- and found the company to be 100 times friendlier. Hotter too, by far. MY tail wasn’t between my legs there. lots of other guys were…but not mine.

San Francisco

Overheard at Starbuck’s in the Castro @1:12 pm, Saturday, 18 April, in the year of our Lord’s grace, 2009:

“Attitude at Lazybear nowadays is so extreme, I swear all the A listers do is just stand and pose and worry that their tits are hard. I mean, I dont CARE if my tits are hard, or soft, or I don’t even know  WHAT they are, but they’re MY tits”

Okay so anyway, yesterday, it was the 103rd anniversary of the great 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire. I went to the Castro to catch a Saturday afternoon matinee of “San Francisco” ( 1935 MGM D- W.S.Van Dyke  W- Anita Loos DP- Oliver T Marsh) and it was for me personally one of the best moments of 2009 (which isn’t really saying much, since 2009 has so far generally been awful) It was amazing because The Castro Theatre, more than anywhere else in my life, has been the most important to me as a film freak. My best memories are of sitting in that theatre on a hundred Saturday afternoons, Learning a love of cinema with Hitchcock, Bogart, Hepburn (Both of them), Spence, Gable, Bette Davis AND that Crawford woman. So being there, as Jeanette MacDonald sang those lyrics which for me, at this time of all times, is especially poignant, moved me to tears.

” San Francisco, open your golden gate

You’ll let nobody wait outside your door

San Francisco, here is your wanderin’ one

Sayin’ he’ll wander no more

 

Other places only make me make me love you best

Tell me you’re the one in all the golden west

San Francisco, I’m coming home again

Never to roam again”

 

Later, I have more to tell, including how I almost got thrown out of the LoneStar on Saturday night for punching a belligerent Bear’s face in.

I’m off to Tahoe till Tuesday. till then..

BACK to the future (or, The Beginning of the Longest Thanksgiving Weekend of my life)

Well, I’m back online finally, and the move went successfully.

I took the kitties and my delicate items up the Thursday before last in my car. Then I left the car in San Jose and used a free train pass and took AMTRAK back down to L.A. to fetch the moving van and all of my stuff. Then, I hauled it all back up here to San Jose and left most of it in Public Storage. My DVD’s and computer desk, etc are here.

Here’s a pic of the Bug at a rest stop in beautiful, Buttonwillow. Both of the kitties were extremely well behaved on the trip up. After about an hour, I forgot that they were back there, they were so quiet. Wally’s kennel is right alongside the Bugs, so it’s out of view in this pic.         Here are a few snaps from the window of the train, mostly passing thru the Salinas Valley (Below)This is in the Santa Lucia Mountains, near Point Conception. 

 

 

This is the Salinas station. Steinbeck country.

The people on the train, by and large, were absolute morons. Why would you leave your seat in the coach car, drag your ass all the way up to the viewing car, just to block the view with your 25 inch laptop screen and bury your pimply nose in a goddamned video game? The most gorgeous scenery in the west, and these dumb assbite kids just can’t be bothered. They’ll all grow up to be dumbfuck morons with no idea where they are or what planet they’re on.

Probably will all vote republican.

 

Speaking of republicans, I’m now safely arrived in Stepford. …or as it appears on the map, San Jose, California. The lovely place where I was born and raised.

The other day, in this creepy neighborhood of acre sizes front lawns, where everyone has a squad of illegal alien gardeners landscaping 24/7 and porsches in every driveway, I actually saw a little blond girl and her tow headed brother Bobby Brady riding by on bananna seat schwinn Bicycles. The little Jan Brady girl actually had tassles and a pink basket on hers. No kidding. She said “wheeee Bobby, this is grand fun!” and she rang her handlebar bell “briinggg – jiiing”  Little Bobby replied “Gosh Sis, let’s go have some Ovaltine!” and off they went, leaving me to hiss like a strangling snake in the shadows. I think even the Bug was rolling his eyes.

O urban life, where for art thou?

Here’s a snap I took of the local McDonalds.  The same one where I used to go with my family on Friday nights at 7pm, just before the “Brady Bunch” came on.

Later, we’d hang out here after movies.

It STILL looks the same. Must be the last on that still looks like this in America. And I can tell you folks personally that it’s NOT a retrofit job. It’s the real deal.  

Ronald McDonald, Please pray for me.