[ ed's journal jun.22.00 ]

[ j o u r n a l ]

The following online journal entries are from June 2000.

They are taken from my written journal and email updates to friends.

[ 0 6 . 2 2 . 0 0 ]

Thursday. 3:02 PM. Here is another email update I sent to everyone -- after a very, very long silence:

Tales from the City: "Turning Thirty by the Bay" and other Gruesome Stories (LONG)
Friends, family, confidants, acquaintances, angels--
It's the start of summer as of yesterday. I hope everyone's solstice was full of sun and light and even a hint of celebration. I think the aboriginal beliefs of many ancient cultures and particularly powerful and poignant in this post-post-modern age; we must pay attention to our environment, our weather, our living spaces, our harmonies and discordances, our communities, and our world. A little feng shui of the soul goes a long way.
It's been a handful of moons since I sat down a written a proper letter to everyone. Since my return from my East Coast trip, I have turned most of my attention to grounding here in San Francisco. In doing so, my life has turned introverted, introspective, and incognito. The weather's changed. The clouds and rain of winter have faded. The sun shines almost every day. I need to find a place in the light. Why let all this solar energy go to waste?
DISCLAIMER >>
Those of you who are familiar with my past letters will undoubtedly chuckle at this disclaimer. The following will be just a few thoughts... But all is not smoke rings and Carnival parades in my corner of the world. And I forewarn those with little patience for melancholia to set my missive aside for a comfortable afternoon, perhaps late evening, to read over a cup of coffee. Print it out. I print all of my letters "home" (an interesting locus of thought these days) and meticulously gluestick them into my journal. They are definitely a better read on good, old fashioned 20 bond white. And certainly leave it be if you don't have the mind or the stomach for drawn out entrails (entries). And definitely skip subheadings that seem too boring, too 1999, too gritty, or plainly too punny. I very much want people's responses, answers, suggestions, comments, footnotes, marginalia -- but not too many criticisms -- it makes me happy to know someone has something to say about me. I welcome fan letters, too. All in all, delight! It is all performance. And it is all true.
BE A SUPERHERO... OR JUST DRINK LIKE ONE >>
POW. Onomatopoetically, the word conjures Adam West and Burt Ward. It's the name of the little corner bar I have recently called my favorite watering hole in town. Located at the disastrously seamy corner of Mission and 6th, POW is an unassuming one storey building of yellowish bricks. Two backlit signs on the buildings corner above the doorway read in cartoony graphics: "POW, A Cocktail Lounge." You've been to sports bars, country western bars, and karaoke bars. POW is the theme bar for the Nintendo jetset, the comic book cool, and the anime elite. What could be better than booze and video games?
It is the home of drinks served up in a heroic-sized martini glass called the "Evil Genius" or "Tidal Force" or "Gamma Ray." My favorite is the "Antidote" made from house pineapple infused vodka, cranberry juice, and a fresh lime. Very tasty.

[ 0 6 . 2 2 . 0 0 cont. ]

A guy I chatted with online (see later section) named Rob introduced me to POW. Now I'm a regular. All the bartenders know me. The owners buy me drinks. I enjoy its atmosphere and its clientele. The bar is mixed: straight, queer, male, female, young and young-at-heart, punky, trendy, trashy. It was voted one of the best "geek" bars of San Francisco. It's a good bet that on a Friday night I'll be sitting at the bar. I have since converted many to the ways of POW. If you visit me, you'll be taken to its comic book bedecked walls. As their ads in the locals say, "Be a Superhero... Or Just Drink Like One."

If anything, I definitely have become part of a bar culture. I meet a number of people at POW or at the local no cover club The Cafe on most weekends. It gets me out of the apartment and interacting with live human beings. I've had a lot of fun. I've also longed for something a bit deeper and more profound.

I did have an incident while out one night. One fateful Friday night in March, I met some people at POW. We had a few drinks and chatted. Then meandered from POW to The Cafe. All in all, I did not drink any more than I normally do. Sometime late that night, just as The Cafe was winding down and people were filing out into the 2 AM air, I turned to my friend Rob and said that I wasn't feeling too well. He asked me if I was all right. I said I felt really dizzy. I told him I thought I was going to pass out. He looked surprised and that was the last thing I saw before I completely blacked out. I fell stone cold to the floor. Minutes later, I woke up to a bunch of people around me trying to stand me up. And then I passed out again. And according to witnesses, a third time. After I came around again, I finally managed to drink some water and gather up enough coordination to go to the bathroom. I thought if I made myself sick up, I'd feel a lot better. Rob went to get the car and I went to the bathroom on my own power. The other people we were with didn't really know quite what to do, I don't think.

I got home safe. I climbed my two flights of stairs all right. Drank a lot of water and went directly to bed. It was probably one of the most mortifying and frightening experiences I've ever had. I am not sure what happened that night. My body chemistry must not have agreed with what I was drinking. Rob was thought I had been doing some sort of drug. I swear all I had was what I bought myself from the bar. I have never reacted so dramatically to drinking.

The whole incident was the subject of some humor for about a week. The rumor mill in SF works just as well as it does in DC. It's all but forgotten. But I did walk away from the experience hurt, scared, and isolated. I remember very clearly thinking how alone I felt, especially going to the bathroom to throw up. People were very thoughtful, but I didn't really feel like I had anyone at my back. Really, truly behind me. I didn't feel like I had made that kind of connection yet in the City. If I had hair, who would've been there to hold it back for me? I know I wasn't alone and I am thankful for that. But the feeling of being alone was markedly there. I haven't felt that lonely in a very long time.

[ i n d e x E D ]

home

journal
     1998
     1999
     2000
          jan.
          feb.
          JUN.
               > PAGE.1
               page.2
               page.3
               page.4
               page.5
               page.6
          nov.
     2001
     2002
     2003
     2004
     2005

These pages are best viewed with Internet Explorer. Open your browser to the largest viewable area.