I did go to the parade. I was stuck at the end of the route, where there wasn't nearly as much music and partying and fun, but there was a protest from some scary gays who dislike the commercialization of Pride. Police came and arrested a few as everyone near them shouted, "Let her go! Let her go!"



Heard Sir Ian McKellen speak at the main stage at Civic Center. But by that point I could feel my face burning up in the sun so we had to bust a bitch outta there. Stupidly, Ben and I decided to go to the beach later on, where my red face darkened a shade. Not so much fun. Nor was climbing up the hill at Fort Funston very fun. To get back to the parking lot from the beach you have to climb this gargantuan, steep-as-a-mofo staircase. Again I say, no fun.



More fun was meeting Marcus and Tim yesterday. It's weird and sort of anticlimactic meeting "Internet friends" because it feels like you're meeting someone for the first time, but you already know so much about each other that all of the easy first-meeting chitchat is gone. (I actually had to tell someone yesterday, "Oh, yeah, so I"m meeting some people I've known for like three years, but who I've never met face to face. How embarrassing)



Last night was pretty cool. We saw a bit of the Dyke March while waiting for the idiots at a restaurant in the Mission to get their shit together and give us a table. We went to the Castro to see the debauchery. I heard stories of men having sex in a window on Castro St. (later confirmed by my roommate's girlfriend) but I didn't see it. I did happen to see three latino guys doing some very nasty things while waiting in line for the bathroom at a bar. That was fun/scary, but most of the night was much more tame, consisting mostly of thousands of people standing around in groups doing very little.



Oh! I almost forgot the best part of yesterday. At Civic Center in the afternoon there was some pre-Pride stuff going on. The best of it, by far, was Mystic Flava, this "Buddhist hip-hop collective." It was this group of like middle school kids who looked really random and out of place on the small DJ stage, but then all of the sudden they started busting out some insane moves. This 11-year-old white boy was the stud of the group - moonwalking around and schooling all the other dancers.

In bed late, out of bed early - that's my usual drunken pattern.



Debating whether to go to the pride parade. Started 30 inutes ago, but I could probably shower and get to the end of Market St. as the beginning is passing.



What to do?

9 a.m. - I wake up. The toilet does not flush. The faucet gives me no water.



9:10 a.m. - Panic about possibly not paying water bill.



9:15 a.m. - Rushing water begins flowing from fire hydrant on corner of street. Utah Street is a veritable river.



Curious morning indeed.

Loving the Corn Pops commercial with the cartoon dancers. So right on.

If you're on the Oprah show, all you have to do to get Oprah to like you or agree with you or deem you worthy, is to use the word spiritual or spirit. Better yet if something you've done is like a spiritual journey. "Reestablishing my credit was like a spiritual awakening, it really fed my spirit."

Here'e the thing about San Francisco. It's really windy and I hate it.



Now, why is Chicago called the windy city? Granted, I've never visited this midwestern metropolis, but I am a faithful Real World viewer and those kids go outside with unbuttoned shirts. They walk around outside and their hair stays put! That does not happen here. I walk up Van Ness every morning and sure enough, I have hold my jacket or shirt down so it doesn't blow back. When I look out my living room window, all the trees are blow-blow-blowing. It's incessant. And it's slowly driving me mad.



Also, speaking of Van Ness, did you know that 50 percent of the city's enormous population of mentally ill homeless hang out in that general vicinity? Well, they do. Damn! San Francisco has a lot of crazy motherfuckers. It's scary and sad and, sometimes, to be honest, sort of funny, because, let's face it, crazy people are generally funny.



I will burn, I'm sure.

It's the first day of summer, you say?



Well, in San Francisco, predictably, it's cold, windy and overcast.



Happy summer.

Soul mate?



1. I thought I was the only person on Earth who thought "Ghost World" was overrated. And the chick who plays the best friend, who was praised in this and "The Man Who Wasn't There" drives me crazy. There's only so much monotone I can take before going rabid.



2. "I'm the One That I Want," which I saw live at Rutgers, was phenomenal. "Notorious C.H.O." which I saw live in SF (jealous?) was even better. And props for the awesome titles.



3. "Vanilla Sky" should not have been overlooked as it was. Perhaps it's because it was a remake of such a recent movie. But I thought it was better than the Spanish version and I thought Tom Cruise did a fine job. Cameron Diaz was a raving bitch and amazing at it. And, yes, Penelope Cruz *was* great. She is off to a slow start in English-language films, but don't overlook her. Check it "Blow" and "All About My Mother" for proof that she's the real thing. And the accent is adorable. Hush now.

I should clarify that my birthday was April 15. The previous post was just one of my periodic realizations that I'm older than I realize and a consequent lament of my fleeting youth.



But thanks for the belated wishes.

Ever since last summer, I've been totally into "A Dating Story" and "A Makeover Story" on TLC. What they need to do is have a marathon of "A Dating Story" where they air episodes of couples that are still together, or at least were together for a while, and at the end of each show briefly update us on them. I WANT TO KNOW.

Oh my God. I can't believe I'm 22!



That is all.

On our way back from the Mission, rounding the corner onto my street, we hear what sounds like a drum circle. As we're walking up the hill a couple of guys wave at us and tell us to come on in. So, we soon found ourselves in the middle of a freaky little party with everything either dancing or jamming. A Nigerian Priest told us the older people there are all Afro-Cubans or Brazilians who've gotten together since the hippie days to play music (and, I suspect, to smoke a little pot marijuana). T'was strange but fun.

Friendly Terri Yuan is moving out here for the summer, taking a class at Berkeley to finish up Georgetown requirements and an art class in SF. So she's going to crash with me while looking for a sublet. Should be fun.



But in other, even better news, I now have both DSL and cable. For the first time ever. Sweet.

Unoriginal comment of the night: There's a big difference between what you want to do and what you know you should do

Here we go:



Music. Money. Writing. Running. Loving.

And I'm so happy for the Citerella chick to have made the Hamptons Magazine.



Sigh.

Typically, I am so loving "The Hamptons." It's making me question my allegiance to the Jersey shore.

I feel so weird. To be honest, it's like being on E, that feeling of being tired but energized at the same time. Every breath is *felt*.



Anyway, I was watching the Alma awards because I decided not to go out with Ben to Looq Hard. Nelly Furtado performed this duet in Spanish with Juanes and it was solid. I used to hate on her voice because I saw her on some TV show singing live and it was God awful, but her recent Grammy performance rocked me and this was, as I said, awesome.



What else? I got "Everything is Illuminated" by Jonathan Safran Foer as motivation to get me to follow through with my book idea. If this dude can have a novel published by 25, so can I. I guess it helped if Joyce Carol Oates is your THESIS ADVISOR at Princeton, but whatever, connections only get you so far. You still have to deliver.