Resurrection

Every night I stay up a little bit later.  I used to get tired around 2 am, now its 2 minutes of 4 am, and I feel wide awake.  Its finally raining, I just paused and noticed it.  It has been a dry winter, though I think they call it winter only out of convention.  Its more like a few months of bearable weather, with a chance of rain.  

A few weeks ago I got back in touch with Alex, whom I used to play CS with late at night when I lived on Fell and Fillmore St. in San Francisco.  We would play for hours, wearing our headsets and keeping up a steady banter while we went about the business of fantasy violence and struggle, part of a strange and invisible subculture that I won't try to explain.

I'm living somewhere else now, he is too, and after a year of this and that we have begun to get together again.  We are playing a new game now, with new names and new rules, but underneath it is the same.  Mostly young men, sitting alone in quiet houses late at night, looking through that glowing screen at a little world made just for them.  And as I sit alone in my quiet house, awake when all others are sleeping, I am grateful for the company.

Quote of the Day

"...your inability to imagine true love manifesting between two members of the same sex almost classifies you as retarded in my mind. It’s not even a moral issue."

Our neighbor.

Go(ing to) Fish

Today, the plan is to get in touch and hopefully meet with my old boss Jen who I will be working for again.  When I lived here last time, I got a job at Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen in Saint Helena.  Cindy’s is one of three restaurants owned (with the help of investors) by Cindy Pawlcyn, somewhat of a celebrity chef in northern California.  Cindy’s was behind Main St. in downtown St. Helena, across the road from the railroad tracks on Railroad Avenue.  It is in a two story white building with many windows and several dining rooms.  At one point it was a hotel for railroad travelers.  One of the little stories that we servers would feed our customers to add depth to their experience at the restaurant was that the fig tree that reaches over the patio where they were eating was at least 150 years old.  This is especially exciting to hear when it is fig season and we can tell them that the figs on the plate once dangled above their table like the uni-ball Jim once claimed to Val that I was born with (or without if you prefer).

Go Fish, the restaurant that my old boss currently manages is an aesthetic opposite of Cindy’s.  It is a large single story building on the outskirts of town, clearly more modern and more purpose built as a restaurant.  It has a cavernous main dining hall, divided by a large hanging artwork in the center of the irregularly shaped room.  Skylights dot the high ceilings and modern pendant lighting dangles over the tables and the angular zinc bar where you can order stellar sushi (or shoo-see as a little boy once called it to Colleen and I) and cocktails with some promise.

I was offered a position as a manager in training, or MIT for you DASAC people.  I would be paid an hourly wage as opposed to making tips, and this would likely often mean less dollars per day, but the chance to get a foot in the door at a successful and well managed company seems well worth it.  Optimally, I would get a chance to have a few nights as the barman at Cindy’s, should any openings arise.  

Brunch at the H&O!

We ran into a bunch of nice friends at the ho for brunch.

Quote of the Day:

Erin: "I put that up so we could snuggle."

Adam: ""I put it down because I hate you."

(said in the theater, regarding the armrest, after Erin chose to
occupy the very same seat Adam wanted.)