Dormouse at the Weekend

[If handsome middle-aged men insist upon walking right up to me in bars, chewing on my lower lip, and inviting me back to their outrageously overdecorated Noe Valley flats, who am I to say no? Even if, or maybe especially if, they warn me that their boyfriends may come home at any time, that that's no big deal to them if it's no big deal to me, and that everyone's terribly mellow about the whole thing.]

[Last weekend + this weekend = falling down into some rabbit hole of friendly libertinage that I always knew was floating around out there in San Francisco but which I've been having a lot of trouble finding. Go ask Alice...]

[Also: it can be a good thing to cultivate friendships with folks who have museum memberships. Allen and I checked out SFMOMA's Matthew Barney show on Saturday. Freak! But "freak" in a way I "got" in that holistic art-appreciation way that eludes precise description. We were struck as well by the three artists in the New Work area up on the fifth floor, all of whom had different takes on manhood and coming of age. There seemed to be an awful lot of precisely dressed, shod, and coiffed young men with complicated eyewear enjoying that exhibit along with us. Ah, the 'mos.]

[Confidential to Jhames: the neatloaf at Ananda Fuara really is quite good. No, really. Also samosas, dal, salads - legume city! Next time...]

[Oh! And I finished A Passage To India. "Wow" is woefully inadequate.]

Previously Next