Saturday, May 1, 2004
Oatmeal for breakfast. Laundry. Dishes. Did heavy duty vacuuming—behind and under the couch, in all ceiling corners. Took out the trash. Tried to repair the couch, which has what I believe to be a minor manufacturing defect, but I was unsuccessful. Instead, I removed some poorly set staples with a pair of pliers. Picnic lunch (lunchmeat sandwich, corn chips) and sunbathing in the backyard. While sunbathing I realized how scarred up the back of my left knee has become from all the McConnell taping. It's not awfully bad, but it's noticeable in bright light. Shower. Ironed sheets and pillowcases. Made the bed. Added ok-cancel.com to my bookmarks page. Took care of money matters, bill paying. Played more with Bloglines. Read Mountaintop Corners by Dan Cederholm on A List Apart—perhaps the most useful article I've seen on ALA in several months. Spent about 15 minutes chatting with Patrick's mom. She says she hasn't gotten any e-mails from Patrick or me, so I gave her instructions on how to look for a Junk E-mail folder—perhaps they got thrown away by accident. Wrote some summaries for months in my journal. Placed an order for flowers for Patrick's mom, placed an order for more air freshener and mouthwash. Was going to take a disco nap but didn't have time. Dinner: ramen with eggs, baby bok choy, sliced mushrooms. Went to the opening of a new nightclub called Mighty (119 Utah Street). On the drive over, I realized that I had forgotten my earplugs. The club was a typical new gay nightclub with the typical gay dance bar crowd except more dancing bears than I had expected. The club is housed in an old brick warehouse at Utah and 15th. The Web site at mightysf.com claims plenty of free safe parking, and that seemed pretty true to me. Three different bars, three different chill out places away from the one main dance floor which really isn't all that big. I miss Pleasuredome! My favorite thing: the bathroom faucet hardware. I found the music unbearable—wailing vocal anthems. I left during the song in which she sings that she's got to get up got to get up got to get up. On the way home on the radio I heard some song about freeing your mind, body, and soul. Ugh! Why has English language dance music creativity been stalled for the past 10 years? Maybe all the musicians and lyricists are too stoned or high to think up new lyrics. I weep for the current state of dance culture. At home: Installed Workrave. Keen. Went to bed around 12:45 AM.