Sunday champagne brunch at Jim & Aaron's

Quiche. How gay is that? And I made it! (Okay, Scott helped out a lot).


Party in motion.


The amazing view.





Friends.

Flashback: August 7, 2004, 1:00AM

John just sent me this picture taken way back when during one of his summer parties at his old place on Robert Street. What a crazy time that was! Everyone here was still in school at TSA at the time of the photo. I love how several things are happening at once in this picture, and that I'm the only one aware that a photo is being taken (and maybe Al, who is mostly out of the shot). Of course, we are all in various states of inebriation; the natural state of being during the summer in New Orleans.

FYI, inter alia

When you see someone wearing an item of clothing that has a place name on it, resist the urge to ask them if they are from that place. Chances are, they are NOT.

And one more thing, do everyone a favor and wash your stank ass before you go out in the morning. Nobody needs to smell your two-day crotch rot on the way to work; I don't care how cute you are.

So I just got back from Ross (Dress for Less!) over on Potrero Hill, where I returned a few items of clothing I bought for interviews, but realized this morning I will never wear. Usually, when I buy something it stays bought. I'm not one of those people who'll pick something up just in case, availing myself of the generous return/exchange policy. My mom shops that way, however, which leads me to believe it is an effective method, particularly if you are concerned about saving money in the long run. I hate to shop, so the idea of returning something is just dragging out the process. I'm definitely a "Get in, get out. Yeah, that looks good enough" type of shopper.

I'm excited today because I've located a Coinstar machine and I'll be able to exchange all the coinage I've been accruing since I moved here that has been cluttering up the desktop in my bedroom, thus screwing with my OCD desire for Minimalism. (Quick! Bettina & Max are coming! Clear! Clear! Clear!) I plan to redeem my coins for credit at iTunes, since I buy stuff there all the time anyway, and I get 100% of the value. New music, yay!

Something cool in New Orleans

Of course, after I move away, cool contemporary architecture stuff starts to happen in New Orleans. If you happen to be there this week, and like architecture stuff, you should check out this city-wide installation.

Makes me wanna dirty the carpet....

Over the weekend, Sonoma County

I spent the last two days amid incredible natural beauty of Sonoma County with my friend Scott. Saturday morning we drove across the Golden Gate and up the 101 to Guerneville, a very friendly resort town on the Russian River.

The first image is from a hike through Armstrong State Park. Before trekking off into the woods, Scott and I had a couple sandwiches from the Safeway deli back in Guerneville. We also opened a bag of Tuscan Three Cheese Kettle chips, the latest of my new favorite flavors, as I've been making my way through the entire line of ridiculously yummy gourmet potato chips. It's up there with the Spicy Thai and Honey Dijon. I would've taken more pics in the woods, but my camera was not dealing well with the low-light under the thick Redwood canopy. Also, it was a rather relaxing walk that became more about contemplating and experiencing the natural beauty around us, rather than trying to capture images of it; most of the time Scott and I didn't really talk, but every now and then would make a comment about this or that tree or view we saw or sound we heard. The space of the forest had a very solemn effect, and encouraged the sort of introspective, whispered conversation appropriate to a cathedral.

The next day we drove back from Guerneville along the coast, pulling off at one of many amazing vistas of the Pacific Ocean; I can't quite remember the name, but I feel like it was something about a schoolhouse. Anyway, I snapped a few more photos before my camera went dead, including that last one of Scott wearing a fleece and looking out to sea which to me is very Nautica.

This is where i work...

My desk is in the very front of this photo, on the right. I like my spot; it's closest to the street, and thus to all the homeless people screaming.

Crazy talk

The denizens of the Mission District are an eclectic bunch. It's a very "urban, gritty , colorful" kind of neighborhood, ie it's mostly poor, black and hispanic people. Also, because this is SF, Asians, too. Basically, not a lot of white people, which is fine by me, being from the Chocolate City myself. Anyway, it's an endless carnival of humanity, making for an entertaining walk each morning to work. (Yes, I am now gainfully employed if you didn't know. I am sorry if I have been out of touch with some of y'all, but hey I been busy.)

So this morning I hear a deranged homeless woman talking to herself: "He makes me look like a lunatic in front of the whole world!"


It was very unclear who "he" was, but I just love random hyperbole, and really appreciated her use of the word lunatic.

LEGO Towers

A couple a sunsets

Inappropriate non-stop hotness

Amid all the coverage of Blackwater's shenanigans, this picture naturally caught my eye. I mean, I know it is totally inappropriate to be checking out a hot guy, when we're talking about major scandals, and fuck-ups involving loss of life, etc., etc., but c'mon, you know this guy is hot. I have had some personal experience with Blackwater, as after Hurricane Katrina, they were EVERYWHERE guarding shit and keeping us all on lockdown. Needless to say, they have some foin personnel. Made for some great eyecandy for the boys when they'd roll past St. Anne on their humvees. Ah, to be in New Orleans in the fall of '05: it was like the wild west of non-stop military, and civilian militia hotness.

Okay, so I realize that I've been in SF over two weeks now with nary a posting covering what's been going on and what sort of trouble I've been getting myself into. The main piece of news is that the job I thought I had when I got here turned out to be a bust-at least for the short-term. My potential employer did suggest that things may work out in the next couple of weeks. We'll see. In the meantime, I'm scrambling to put together a short list of super-sexy design firms that would like to hire a really smart, really competent designer who would contribute considerably in various and unexpected ways to the quality of design output, and thus the bottom line. So for the next few weeks it's interviews, interviews, interviews.

Of course, with the Folsom Street Fair and Love Parade coming up this weekend, and the Castro Street Fair next weekend (and the tons of parties, bars and shit to do in this town on any given day/night), there'll be plenty of distraction and excitement. I just hope the money don't runned out before I get my firs' direc deposic.

So long Big Easy

Okay, so I made the move. After a four-day journey through the American Southwest, I've finally arrived in my new hometown. I got into SF last night around 11:30, only to realize that I had no idea how to get to Dominic's place in the Haight. After a few abortive attempts, I ended up near the Castro, and was able to navigate over a few hills and find the right neighborhood.

I ended up parking over night on Haight Street, and got up early this morning to move my car-the first in probably many times I will have to do this until I find an apartment that has parking. Today I am going to be running around, sorting out various moving requirements, but hopefully later on I'll post pictures from my trip, as well as some of the things I encounter over the next few days I adjust to my new surroundings.

The last day of summer...

Just a few pics taken on Sunday and Sunday night. Despite not having pics to show it, I think you can imagine the progression of the evening's festivities.

A weekend in Grand Isle

I don't care that you have an iPhone...

...so please resist the temptation to show it off. I just don't give a rat's ass. You see, basically what you are telling me is that you are a douchebag.

Just a reminder...

This guy's got non-stop hotness.

Architecture Discoursed

While this particular blog is not about Architecture per se-I tend to discuss topics more personal, and random-I would like to mention a few blogs I have added to the Design portion of the sidebar. I am a regular reader of BLDGBLG. I think I picked up on it from a posting at Curbed SF at some stage. Anyway, I like a lot of the content: lots of musings, and discoveries from a broad range of topics, related back, even tangentially, to design and architecture. There is a particularly strong interest in the whole film & architecture genre that seems appropriate for an L.A.-based blogger. Well, the past week or so BLDBLG has been posting non-stop about this Postopolis! event in NYC, which was a recent gathering of several architecture bloggers from across the country. At first I was put off by that exclamation point, because in general I think most architects are butchers of language, treating it much like a material, and refashioning it at their whim with no regard for clarity of meaning, or tradition, and coming up with all sorts of too clever, smarmy results, e.g. (B)architecture: the topology of tippling, or some such. But then I started to read certain Suprematist leanings in the usage of the exclamation point, very Tatlin, very Malevich, very El Lissitzky. And I just love the graphic design coming out of Russia in those days, or I guess it was the U.S.S.R at that point: so collective, so optimistic, so revolutionary.

So I took a closer look, as it turns out these bloggers were actually kinda cute, immediately sparking my interest, since I love it when substance and beauty can be found together. As it turns out, I am loving Miss Representation. A reading (or deliberate "miss" reading as it were) of the name alone is hours of masturbatory, intellectual fun. Whether to refer to the writer as he or she, the complexity of gender and sex, the fluidity of gender in a medium of interaction where we can all adopt any number of identities. And I'm spinning off in a million directions. I mean, architecture after all is total porn, and there are endless ways of associating design and sex, i.e. "queer space and heterotopias". Okay, that last bit references something I wrote offline a long time ago in school, in response to that essay by what's his face; I'll get into that another time.

To the point, Miss Representation's use of prose is nothing short of orgasmic. As a lover of language(s), I can't help but get excited by an architect who really can write, and make use of metaphors, obscure references, oodles of SAT words, and complex sentence structure-I was so totally turned on by that essay on historic preservation.

Tropolism is another site I'm really getting into. His ideas resonate very closely to my own design concerns. I am looking forward to perusing the archive, as I have a lot of free time coming up.

Walking in San Francisco

Those sea lions that everybody goes to see.

View from Telegraph Hill.

Coit Tower.

On the way to the bridge.

On the other side.

Here's a few pictures I took this week. On Wednesday I walked over to Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill, and yesterday I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin County. The views of the bay were exhilirating. While it was sunny, the wind was intense, so I basically froze my butt off. I couldn't believe all the tourons on the bridge in shorts and t-shirts. The walk across is 1.2 miles, and I listened to my iPod (various house remixes, a little Madonna, and some reggae), taking me about 30 minutes to get across. On the other side, I found the "Lone Sailor". (Obvious jokes regarding said sailor's continuing lone status omitted.)

Afterwards, I walked back across the bridge, and took a bus through the Presidio. I met up with my buddy Charlie and had some awesome Chinese food at Dragon Well in the Marina District, and then several pints at local watering hole. That evening, I went to the Lonestar Saloon, and ended up networking a bit with some friendly bears, in the process learning that Guadalajara has an amazing gay scene.

First Friday at Jazzfest 2007 (April 27, 2007)

Hot catch

Um, there are a lot of hot guys on Deadliest Catch...among them Matt "I definitely have some priors" who is on the Northwestern and Blake, the captain of the Maverick. Who knew fishing and crabbing could be so sexy?

Multiple shits hitting the fan

Okay, I kinda hate it when bloggers who haven't posted anything in awhile will suddenly decide to post the "I haven't posted in forever" post, so I am not going to mention the fact that it's been awhile, at least not directly. Obviously, I have a real life with shit going on all the time, and lately it's been a lot of shit. And it's been hitting the fan, and it's getting all over the place. And none of it's the good S-curve, once-a-day, high in fibre diet kind. What a mess. First of all, there's the constipated, meatball type that actually dents the fanblades as it hits, whereupon it changes trajectory, remaining completely intact: a dense shitball that's certain to fuck up whoever it hits, or at least leave a bruise. Then there's the drippy, "lee-kweed sheets" as Mikael would say, that produce a shit mosaic that covers everything in the vicinity, stopped only by the walls where it lands, sliding down in a stinky ooze. Regardless, you're fucked. That basically sums up the past couple of weeks for me.

Another one bites the dust...

Once again, we here in the NO are finding ourselves celebrating the departure of yet another good friend. In this case, Tony (the one on the left) is leaving for DC in a matter of days. His departure is one in a long line. But what is New Orleans' loss is DC's gain. He's going to be managing what is soon to be the hottest FCUK store in the nation. Watch out all you retail bitches. This one's coming up. Don't be afraid to say, "Hey!" as he's a very friendly guy, and arriving in the DC area completely single. With lottsa love we wish him all the best from the Dirty, Dirty.

This one is Tony before the move. As you can see, we all down here are desperate for cash, and will do almost anything for a quick buck, including selling hemp jewelry to indigent hippies. Fortunately, he's already sorted out for a success in Our Nation's Capital.

Obscure Hottie

Okay, so I just put down the bowl (of salad) that I was eating, and looked up to see that the final episode in some marathon countdown of "Ghosthunters" on Sci Fi was on the TV. Is it just me, or is Steve Gonsalves kinda hot? I particularly like his full sleeves. Most guys that have them might look kinda scary, but he's got a cute face, so it makes a nice contrast. Plus, guys with tattoos have good stories. Now, I don't mean the muscle guido with the waxed eyebrows/gelled hair sticking straight out (at the gym!), and the fuckin' tribal armband. He MIGHT have good stories, but they're all the same one. (Got drunk at the shore and banged some chick. Burrrp). I'm talking about the guy with the blood-dripping heart stabbed through by a knife with the word "MOM" written on a scroll unfurled before it tattooed on his bicep that's wrapped by a vine of barbed wire entwined all the way to the wrist with skulls, naked ladies, guns and spider webs all caught up in it. And, that's just his RIGHT arm. He's the one with the good stories....

Couched

This is what Eric looked like after a few of us got together last night for my big birthday dinner at Cochon. The food was amazing: straight-up Cajun, but high-end. You fuckers in NYC have no idea. The grits with crawfish special small plate was so good we got a second order. Of course a couple bottles of champagne were called for to wash it all down. I wish a lot more of you out-of-town folks coulda been there.

Ericspeak

frattastic adj. -of or relating to a fraternity or its members, i.e. tending toward conformist group behavior, espec. in dress & mannerisms (see douchebaggery).

hot mess n. -a person, usu. under the influence of alcohol or narcotics, who makes of themselves an embarrassing public display, as in, "Did you hear what Georgette did last night? Girrrl, she was a hot mess!"

It's for the attention (really).

Alright, I've finally broken the streak of 90 consecutive days without going to the gym, by going to the gym last night. I had forgotten how good it can make you feel in a way that pills, booze and Latino rentboys cannot.

Am I stoned right now?

When I try and explain to straight people what it's like to be gay (that is, the ones who feel the need to ask), I usually feel like a NEXUS6 replicant trying to explain himself to a human: "If you could only see what I've seen with your eyes..." Not because I feel like I am talking to my creator, but because, I mean, some of the things I've seen, I just don't think would be believed.

PS The test of the question in the title is the preceding paragraph. You tell me.

Quiznos Clusterf**k

Alright, I don't have a lot of time to get into it since I am at work, but I have to get this out. Katie and I walked over to the Quizno's located at 339 Baronne Street (store #10805) to get something to eat, and escape the office for an hour or so. Prior to walking over, there was a general discussion around the office about how slow the service is at this particular location. This was the fourth time I've gone to eat there, and this time was no different than the three previous in terms of the unnecessarily long lines, and piss-poor attitudes among the employees. I realize this is the South, and therefore I should expect a certain degree of, how to put this gently, "laid-back, casual" attitude in terms of service, but this place far surpasses the traditional, take-your-time approach.

Everytime I attempt to order a side garden salad with my sandwich, I get blank stares and confusion. Clearly, I'm going to combo that, so of course I want a drink. The flow is just fucked up at Quizno's. Compare McDonald's, the vanguard of all things fast food. Ordering is simplified and predictable. At Quizno's though, the sandwich makers do not seem to know the right prompts to get things moving along, and I am never sure who to tell what. As such, it takes a long time to convey what I want without sounding like a demanding asshole. And it takes an even longer time for them to actual prepare it. (Mind you, I order nothing customized, just standard menu items.) I think the double workstations is one confusing element, pre- and post- oven. But at this particular location, the real hold up is the cashier, who is the same everyday, and who feels it necessary to carry on personal phone calls all the while ringing people up, or at least attempting to.

Oh, by the way...

If you scroll down a ways, you'll see this white box to the right containing some green text. That's a link to stuff I've been looking at on the Web that I think is interesting. Maybe you will too. If not, whatever.

More, more, more...pics

Oh yeah, here is the link to my flickr account, where you can see way more pics from this past Mardi Gras, as well as my recent trip to San Francisco, AND even way older, random pics:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cardoanddecumanus/

All on a Mardi Gras Day!

Five days now I have been partying, taking breaks only to shower, change and (briefly) catch some sleep. As a result: my house smells like shit; there are piles of dirty laundry everywhere; and, I've got nothing to eat save a few limes, and nothing to drink but mixers. My beard has grown grizzly-ish because I have not purchased a new beard trimmer, having destroyed all the guards on my original. And I have not even bothered to shave properly, so I have a full-on throat beard beginning to come in as well. Basically, I am in a state. But I suppose after you've been partying, (I'm having such a wonderful time!), the Piper eventually must be paid.

I just ordered an ITALIAN ALL MEAT pizza from Balcony Bar. I emphasize because none of my friends would ever order an all meat pizza with me. It's a tricky business, arriving at a solid consensus when ordering a pizza. Usually I have to give in, because I tend to favor unhealthy toppings. I also tend to be a "traditionalist" in that the kinds of toppings I prefer would be typically found in NYC pizzerias circa '84 (pre-pineapple chunks, artichoke, white pizza, et al.). So, no, I'll pass on the BBQ Thai chicken pizza this time around, and satisfy my meaty cravings for pepperoni, bacon, sausage, meatball. Basically, I'm eating on my own. I have officially thrown in the towl on MG2007. While the majority of my friends are drinking their faces off on and around Bourbon Street, I sit at home watching back-to-back episodes of CSI: Crime Scene Investigators on SpikeTV.

Alright, it is just about time to run and pick up that pizza. And no I will NOT be mopping up the grease that collects in the pepperoni slices with napkins. That is too fucking high school girl for me. Like my reasoning for getting lots of unhealthy toppings in the first place, it's fucking pizza! If you want to eat healthy, make a salad; don't mess with my pizza! (But oh yeah, tomorrow begins Lent, so I'll be giving up all this bad stuff for the next 40 days. I mean, I'm not religious, or anything like that, I just need the break!)

Mardi Gras 2007

I've been trying to upload pictures from the past two nights of partying, but Blogger is being difficult and I can only do one at a time. So, here's one that I think captures basically what I have been doing since Friday afternoon. I am headed over to Eric's place now to get started for Bacchus.