where I'm calling from

Jim and I took our first trip together last week: A mini vacation to SF. The trip started pretty awesomely as the cast of the FX show, "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" was on our flight. I snuck a snapshot picture with my grainy zoom lens. Imagine my surprise when Danny Devito waddled up to join the crew just minutes before we boarded the plane. Off we went!

We immediately met up with Randar, Sabs, Scottel, Anneh, and her roomie Meg in The Mission at a joint called Monk's Kettle. Sour Flemish ales were had. I also tried a lovely black currant cider and some of the best pomme frites ever! We skipped over to an authentic taqueria and gorged ourselves on greasy OG Mexican cuisine. Afterwards we landed at the Elbo Room where my best DJ mate and former mentor, Fuchsia, was throwing her decadent monthly goth night. All the other kids begged off but Jim and I listened to the swirling gloaming for another hour or so. He really liked the music so I told him to raid my collection when we got home. There's plenty more where that came from.

The next day we walked through the Not-So-'Tender'loin and over towards the Castro. Our plan was to hit the Academy of Sciences after breakfast. Problem was, there were no cabs to be had. We hoofed all the way over to the park from Union Square. By the time we got there, my feet were not ready for the museum shuffle. However, the newly-refurbished place was well worth the look-see, especially the spiraling rain-forest exhibit where we met geckos, snakes and billions of butterflies.

We hopped over to the De Young Museum for the expensive and popular King Tut exhibit. They could have told us at the outset that King Tut was not physically present. Not even a single sarcophagus was there. I guess if I knew my current affairs, I would know that Tut is not permitted to leave Egypt any longer, but since I am 100% American, I slapped down my $30/head and expected to see a shriveled old boy king. Instead I saw a lot of King Tutankhamen's gilded stuff and wooden boxes. Neat, but a little deflating.

Later Jim and I went to AT&T park where Mark Twain's adage "The coldest winter I every spent was a summer in San Francisco" came true. Billowing icy mists froze us out as the Giants blew a 9th-inning lead to the Cubs. We were so beat down from our multi-mile trek that we wrapped up the evening with Guiness pints at a local Irish Pub where, unknown to us, it was the official 250th birthday of Guinness. Doesn't that beat all.

On Friday we rode the "Ding Ding Ding" up the hill to North Beach where we carbo-loaded on Italian food. The sun shined hard and hot, so we walked to the wharf. It didn't take Jim long to recognize that tourist trap for what it was, so we wasted time by touring underneath the Golden Gate Bridge on a short bay cruise. We were lost in such a thick fog we had to hold our ears as we passed the fog horns.

Later that night we met with Randar and Sabs to tour Alcatraz at night. It's creepy by day, but at night, the crowds are thinner and extra super creepy rooms are open. We shuffled through the scary dilapidated salt-eaten rooms, glued to our audio tours. Sabs and I discussed an award-winning historical novel idea that I am kicking around in my head rather seriously. I showed them the fake blood on the ceiling of the Hospital Ward left over from the movie, The Rock. We cruised back to the mainland sitting atop the roof level of the ship as twinkling San Francisco rose in front us.

After dinner, Irish Coffee and a shared cab, it was time to head back to the hotel and say good-bye. Our short vacation was already over. We crammed in so many memories in such a short amount of time. My legs ached from the walking, but I felt happier than I have in a long time. I feel so lucky to have such marvelous and genuine friends and the most caring, attentive, loving boyfriend ever invented.

Let's do it again!

Hey everyone, let's climb into my time machine and go back to 2004 for a moment. Humor me.

Back in 2004 a new TV series started. I won't profess to know much about TV shows because the last serial I watched in its entirety was a wildly unpopular show called Twin Peaks. (Call me if you want to re-watch it; I even have the bootleg pilot from Hong Kong). Before that, I remember Luke and Laura getting married on daytime soaps and something about a car with an onboard TCU named "Kit." But I digress...

Recently, I was ill. As in, stranded at home, on the couch in the middle of summer and recovering from invasive surgery ill. Jim bought me a streaming Roku box so I could watch NetFlix content on demand, so I thought, "What the hell? I have the time. Let's try this Heroes show everyone is raving about."

Error. Poop salad. Third season took such a nose dive I bailed out. Try again.

I asked for recommendations and they rolled in. Mad Men. Battlestar Galactica. Project Runway. On and on. People also recommended LOST. I nibbled on the bait.

*WARNING: SPOILER ALERT FOR APPROXIMATELY 13% OF THE REMAINING VIEWING AUDIENCE THAT WAS STUCK WITHOUT CABLE FOR THE PAST FIVE YEARS. LIKE ME.*

I took the bait. I was caught. The pilot episode shook me so badly, I didn't think I could keep going. It was like a high speed car wreck: captivating and scintillating and oh, so horrifying. I stayed on with Season One, clutching my arm rests and learning to love these cast-aways. My favorite characters were Sayid (debonair, worldly, yet soft) and John Locke (cripple can now walk, wha???) Jack, Sawyer and Kate were too confusing, too clouded. But the whole series captivated me.

Season Two rolled in like thunder on my Roku box. Sure, I wanted Claire to shut her fucking gob and Charlie needed to get a grip, but hey, Island Fever can't be cured with a few asprin and a glass of Oahu spring water. I felt compassion for Anna-Lucia and was extremely interested to learn why Libby had been in the nut house. But then JJ Abrams, that sly fucker, slammed the door on these women. I cried on my couch for poor Rose with cancer. I screamed when Libby took two bullets to the gut. And I held on.

Season Three started with a confusing bang. Here we meet The Others, those rat bastards stalking My People. Sun confirmed her freak pregnancy and I started worrying she was carrying the next Island CHUD. Locke became a total loony and I fell in love with Desmond. All through Season Three, I watched Kate, Sawyer and Jack slice each other up emotionally. And I witnessed some pretty good prime-time kung-fu action. I mean, really, I think I can fend off an intruder now.

Now, I am pretty much well and have returned to work, but I keep taking in an episode here or there. I have learned to love/hate Juliet in Season Four. And WTF? Suddenly we see the future as well as the past? My brain is on the edge of a short circuit. Then Desmond became unstuck in time, a la "Slaughterhouse Five" and they dropped in Jeremy Davies, the greatest Mad Scientist character actor in 50 years? I think I just climaxed. It's paranormal. It's sci-fi. It's almost over. I have six episodes left.

When they run out, I have to wait until Season Five is released on DVD, or I can squint at stolen downloads on my computer, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Which is probably what I will do. As for Season Six airing live starting February 2010, I am just going to have to plug my ears and ignore the entertainment press until I can catch up. I am NOT ordering cable for this. That would be like selling my TV for a fix, reminiscent of Requiem for a Dream.

In the meantime, I am sorry for Charlie. And Jin. I know now who the Oceanic Six are, but not WHY they are and what happened. I almost don't want to know. My fingers are sore from the constant abuse as I rip off my nails. I miss the simpler days of Twin Peaks where you got one or two twists per season, not per episode.

JJ Abrams, you get coal for Christmas, you heartless, time-sucking entertainment thief.

I've been taking it relatively easy lately. When my brother left here after the PAX convention, he had a cold. Come to find out, he actually had H1Nerd1 AND a case of pneumonia. Lucky boy caught two deadly diseases in one weekend. He'd been staying with me so I was not surprised to hear Jim and Monique both came down with the sniffles that week. I followed a few days later.

So when Friday rolled around and Jim and I were thinking of relaxing things we'd like to do together, we decided it was time to see one of the summer hit movies that was sure to move out of the theater soon. We took in District 9.

If you don't know anything about this film, the simple synopsis is this: An extraterrestrial race forced to live in slum-like conditions on Earth suddenly finds a kindred spirit in a government agent that is exposed to their biotechnology. During a forced eviction and relocation, things go awry...

Not since I was a little girl watching the TV series V has an alien drama rattled me so badly. There's a fair amount of empathy generated for all major players and that's hard to do. Hollywood these days is so wrapped up with evil vs. good, black vs. white.

In this film you feel sorry for the alien prawns forced to live in slum conditions, treated like insects. You see their pain and understanding in their eyes. You feel the anguish of Wikas, the MNU agent fall guy who unwittingly hampers a sophisticated bioengineered escape plan. You understand why the government agents are hard pressed to find a containment solution for this refugee district that they created. And you understand the revulsion of the human inhabitants of Johannesburg: These repugnant alien creatures are hard to accept with their seemingly arthropodal lifestyles, unsightly tentacle mouths and fondness for cat food.

One of the most striking realizations in this film is that all the major problems in the slum shack camps are caused by humans. The Nigerian Gang warfare, the inter-species prostitution, gun running and extortion are all at the hands of humans. The gangs take away the money and weapons, the MNU agents confiscate all technology, and both sides rob the stranded alien refugees of all dignity.

I was impressed by how the movie was filmed. It looked real, and the South African location made for a complicated sociopolitical background. Everything looked gritty and the fast camera panning and pseudo-documentary style had the effect of creating veracity while emotionally jostling the viewer. I also could not remember the exact moment when the film ceased its documentary style and moved fully into the present story. That segue was flawless and first-rate.

What I am saying here is this movie will appeal to a wide cerebral audience. If you just want to see high-tech lasers exploding people, go. You won't be disappointed. Want to see an intricate social apartheid/refugee allegory without the bullshit? Go. But if you're looking for whizbang CGI graphics and snappy one-liners, take a pass. This isn't your film. Go home and watch "Predator" over and over until your eyes bleed. You deserve it.

An interesting news note: Nigerian officials have asked that District 9 not be shown in the nation's theaters. Based on the creepy-as-fuck voodoo cannibal portrayal of Nigerian Gangs, I don't blame them. But being a woman with a strong background in journalism training, I say let it play. If we were to ban all movies that show others in bad light, I don't even think Disney flicks could get a screening anymore. Look at all the Nazi movies that persist as some of the greatest film making in history: Das Boot, Schindler's List, The Pianist. Suck it up, Nigeria, and retaliate with some good movie making of your own. Let the market of ideas decide.

Anyway, go see this movie. Vote with your dollars and let shit like Jennifer's Body rot at the box office.

It's been far too long since we checked in with my home town police blotter. I still have not decided if I am going home for Thanksgiving this year or not. The Local Color may sway my decision…

12:23 a.m., Mi-Wuk Village — Someone reported that his neighbors defecated on his car and threw toilet paper on it. He requested extra patrol in the area. The alleged incident took place near Wakalu Trail.

4:44 a.m., suspicious circumstances — A woman said she left the bar with someone, and woke up naked in a motel shower and did not remember how she got there on the 300 block of South Washington Street.

7:45 a.m., Sonora — A woman reported she thinks someone is slowly poisoning her. She thinks this has happened nine times. She suspects someone hired by her husband is doing this. She told the Sheriff’s Office that she gets a strange taste in her mouth and her hands start shaking upon entering her car.

7:52 a.m., suspicious circumstances — A man said a steak house on the 1100 block of Mono Way used to be an “open air wrestling arena” in the 1960s.

9:24 a.m., Valley Springs — A caller thought there was something suspicious about “multiple cars for sale in a residential lot” near Chestnut and California streets.

11:04 a.m., Groveland — A “hobo” was reportedly wearing his underwear on the outside of his clothes on the 19100 block of Highway 120.

4:45 p.m., Sonora — A woman reported a sick deer was at her front door foaming at the mouth.

5:33 p.m., San Andreas — An explosion took place on private property on the 5200 block of Highway 49.

6:31 p.m., suspicious circumstances — A caller on Snell Street said a man told him he was going to kill his wife and “chew her skin.”

9:58 p.m. Sonora area — A deputy lectured a man and woman about having sexual intercourse in the man’s vehicle on the 20000 block of Highway 108.

OK, I think that solves it. I am staying in Seattle for the holidays!

Stream of consciousness is best when fueled by cold medicine. Here we go:

A million, a billion, a trillion stars

A million, a billion stars

Pool with Jim last week, mellow couch evenings, then BBQ with Miss Haws and the Golden Robot Army. Out late on Saturday waiting for Billy Joe to blow his horn. Almost collapsed from the tired, the waiting. Tried to teach Jason to dance the two-step with me. Well-intentioned and fun. Vodka soda, vodka soda, cab ride home. Woke up sick. Football season opener with the surrogate family. I felt the cold take hold while munching on queso fundido. Home again, to the couch. Jim slept over, Figgy on his knee. Sweet hugs and more sleep.

I feel happy even in my illness, listening to the greatest love song ever written.

LOVEDUST by Luna

When candles light themselves

And the air turns creamy

Why not take a photograph?

You look so dreamy

Then stand in the blackness

Smile at the tinkling

Blinded by lovedust

What did I see?

A million, a billion, a trillion stars

A million, a billion stars

I’m bad with faces

And worse with names

But the lost glove is happy

It's all the same 

I set a trap for you

But I’m the one who’s all caught up

Blinded by lovedust

This is what I saw

A million, a billion, a trillion stars

A million a billion stars

A million, a billion, a trillion stars

A million, a billion stars