Making hay just as fast as we can

[Even with lots of potential fool-around time on the Vorld Vide Veb at Le Temp Job, I don't seem to be updating frequently. When I'm there, I get into this zone of must...enter...data, and suddenly, another three hours have passed. The rest of my week is spent either as Law Student Extraordinaire (yes, I've been getting good feedback; those of you who expressed their high hopes can be proud of me, for the time being), or vegging in front of Buffy, Angel, Enterprise, the West Wing or Thursday night's offerings on the Peacock. Life is...OK right now.]

[A bizarre moment yesterday. As DJ expressed better than I ever could, New Yorkers are experiencing the fallout from the 9/11 attacks much more than the rest of us. Duh. While I've had my occasional moments of sickening dread (viz. biological warfare is upon us, much sooner than I ever expected), life hasn't felt that much different from what it was, say, when I was a student during the Gulf War. However, part of Le Temp Job involves entering addresses for businesses in various targeted industries, and one company (which shall remain nameless) is listed as working out of Two World Trade Center, NY, NY. Gulp. I went and researched the contact's new address (she wasn't at the WTC that morning, apparently) and duly entered her new data. Just a little touch, but it meant something, I guess.]

[In other news...John and I keep going to political events in which we have little-to-no stake, just to partake of free booze and nibbles. Tonight, Colleen and Frankie's roommate Susannah left a message on our voice mail, saying we should meet her at JohnFrank in the Castro (C. and F. are the dyke friends whose commitment ceremony we attended a couple of weekends back. What, I didn't write about it?), as Carole Migden was having a little fundraiser. Migden is San Francisco's rep in the California Assembly, who's being turned out 'cause of our draconian term limits law; she is now running for state Senate. Anyway, she also just pushed thru a pretty comprehensive domestic partners law, and the gathering at this chi-chi restaurant seemed designed to celebrate that fact more than anything. (Sh'yeah, like she won't get that Senate seat.)]

[Anyway, John and I showed up, and there was no sign of Susannah. We ran the gauntlet at the front door, avoided making a contribution, collected our name tags, duly collected our free wine and hors d'oeuvres, and proceded to sit in the patio and talk about everyone else there. The only face I recognized (besides The Candidate, who looked distinctly distracted in her frumpy, multicolored knit coat and frizzy perm) was the man who hopes to replace her, a former SF Supervisor whom Dianne Feinstein appointed to the Board in the wake of Harvey Milk's assassination. The two candidates for Migden's Assembly seat are gay men who the rest of the country would see as blatantly liberal; only here can we see the nuances. When it's not appallingly cutthroat, San Francisco politics can be so homely.]

[Susannah nowhere in evidence, we cut out, and got back home in time for grilled Gruyere and ham sandwiches and "Will and Grace." Screw anthrax and our cholesterol counts; these are the good times. Make hay now, armageddon may be right around the corner...]

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