Frisson

[One of the surprise pleasures of 2001 has been how well John and I are getting along with our new roommates. Sebastian and Jacob lead substantially different lives than we do (Quick aside: just got a chill from how often it's "John and I" and "we." I don't regret it, but every once in a while, That Which We've Created gives me a not-so-pleasant frisson), but when we're home together, we blend effortlessly, laughing and talking in a way that reminds me of my friendship with Sean. With so many people, there's that burden of keeping a conversation interesting, a burden I even forget is there because it's so ubiquitous. However, when that burden's absent, the resulting lightness is surprising and refreshing. We had one of those nights last night, with different combinations of us drifting in and out of the apartment, and Jacob baking oatmeal cookies and all of us drinking Red Hook (I was in the mood for generic faux-microbrew, for some reason). And zero sexual tension, in case you were wondering.]

[Violet and I start our copyediting class tonight at Harvey Milk. Readers of SF Weekly will recognize our teacher as the writer of the "Social Grace" etiquette column. Violet helped edit this term's course catalog with him, and says he's a blast. I'm also looking forward to having a weekly date with Violet; with her law school schedule and insistence on living outside of San Francisco with her mother, we rarely see each other. She's bringing law school materials so I can get started on the application process. Shiver, again.]

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