Chinatown in San Francisco. Mah jongg sets can be bought at the Bazaar on the right.
12 Jan 2004
6 Jan 2004
06.01.04 - Foreign familiarity
Happy new year! I spent my New Year's Eve in a hotel bed (alone) eating, watching movies, ignoring the feeling that being alone in a hotel bed on NYE was a bad omen. There were a few bad omens during my stay in California -- an earthquake, a blackout that left half of San Francisco in a creepy darkness, a particularly shattering dream, a country on high terror alert. But in the end nothing bad happened, save a slightly swollen and sprained right hand and a slightly fuzzy and unfocused jetlagged brain.
I didn't have sense to be concerned flying there -- I was unaware of the cancelled flights brought on by apparent unintelligible intelligence. I was exhausted from parties and booze and running around trying to find presents and clothes and stuff. I spent the first four days in a fog (both literal and figurative) dinners (and the ensuing wines, champagnes, vodkas, bourbon?) with Andy, Anthony, Paul, Robert and the rest of the gay mafioso-so-so. Had a lunch with Jenn who recently remigrated and was back in SF getting used to American life (and the overwhelmingly sized ceasar salads) and her new found VP-ness. Saw Kate and Anne's overwhelmingly sized bead shop, Beadissimo which, despite its costly Mission location, is the size of a small village and tried to resist all of the shiny little beads. Did Christmas with my mum and brother at my cousin's renovated neo-classical suburban tract home and was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of ten Americans talking excitedly over each other. Then spent four days laying about my mother's flat -- eating, cooking, drinking, shopping. So, even though it was a good amount of time, it was a bit of a blur. Ok, that may have been the alcohol, but may also have been the sheer whirlwind of people.
It's nice to have been, and nice to be back.
I didn't have sense to be concerned flying there -- I was unaware of the cancelled flights brought on by apparent unintelligible intelligence. I was exhausted from parties and booze and running around trying to find presents and clothes and stuff. I spent the first four days in a fog (both literal and figurative) dinners (and the ensuing wines, champagnes, vodkas, bourbon?) with Andy, Anthony, Paul, Robert and the rest of the gay mafioso-so-so. Had a lunch with Jenn who recently remigrated and was back in SF getting used to American life (and the overwhelmingly sized ceasar salads) and her new found VP-ness. Saw Kate and Anne's overwhelmingly sized bead shop, Beadissimo which, despite its costly Mission location, is the size of a small village and tried to resist all of the shiny little beads. Did Christmas with my mum and brother at my cousin's renovated neo-classical suburban tract home and was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of ten Americans talking excitedly over each other. Then spent four days laying about my mother's flat -- eating, cooking, drinking, shopping. So, even though it was a good amount of time, it was a bit of a blur. Ok, that may have been the alcohol, but may also have been the sheer whirlwind of people.
It's nice to have been, and nice to be back.
16 Dec 2003
16.12.03 - That dreaded season
It's that dreaded season again -- holiday party time. I think I pickled my liver last week what with all of the clients parties, drinks with friends and our agency party (debauched, even if it was at the very chic Kingly Club. I woke up on Friday sitting in a chair, completely dressed, with a feather boa and a plate of food I hadn't touched. Classy.
Had drinks with Tim last night. We love Tim. He'd spent the day in cabs delivering old master paintings to clients. l He becomes so animated talking about dance that his legs swing and kick and move about with excitement. We drank wine in the Rockwell bar in Trafalgar Square then set off into the bitterly cold night air. It was meant to get down to -6 celsius last night. Time for gloves and scarves and heavy coats -- but I do love this time of year in London.
Off Sunday to San Francisco to horrify my friends with how fat and old I've become -- it's a danger of being away for a year.
Had drinks with Tim last night. We love Tim. He'd spent the day in cabs delivering old master paintings to clients. l He becomes so animated talking about dance that his legs swing and kick and move about with excitement. We drank wine in the Rockwell bar in Trafalgar Square then set off into the bitterly cold night air. It was meant to get down to -6 celsius last night. Time for gloves and scarves and heavy coats -- but I do love this time of year in London.
Off Sunday to San Francisco to horrify my friends with how fat and old I've become -- it's a danger of being away for a year.
9 Dec 2003
09.12.03 - It only took 37 years
A few have asked why the Rugby was such a big deal. Simply, the UK's not won a football, rubgy or cricket world cup since the England team won the football World Cup in 1966 -- so the country's got good reason to celebrate. And they're not unfun to watch at all.
8 Dec 2003
08.12.03 - Gemisch
Said goodbye to Jenn last night with a big boozy dinner at Oxo Tower. Stunning views, but rather uninspiring food. Go for cocktails at the bar, but skip the Brasserie and it's fusion nonsense. The duck rillette was greasy and tasted of tinned meat, but the pan fried sea bass was nice. Jenn's off to San Francisco and an impressive VP media job. How inspiring.
Saturday stayed in a watched Bowling for Columbine on the telly. I was prepared to dislike Michael Moore -- his flippancy and general disheveledness in the media -- but the documentary is compelling and disturbing. The security camera tapes from Columbine are difficult to watch, but no less so than the ultra-smug Charlton Heston, clearly feeble but evil enough to appear in communities hit by gun violence to rally the NRA hours after people have died.
The England Rugby team do their celebrational parade down Oxford Street today to Trafalgar Square. People have queued up since 11pm last night for the 20 minutes or so that the team will be there. Oh well. Good on them anyway. It was a brilliant game.
Getting rather excited to go home and see everyone. Won't be long no. Better do some shopping.
Saturday stayed in a watched Bowling for Columbine on the telly. I was prepared to dislike Michael Moore -- his flippancy and general disheveledness in the media -- but the documentary is compelling and disturbing. The security camera tapes from Columbine are difficult to watch, but no less so than the ultra-smug Charlton Heston, clearly feeble but evil enough to appear in communities hit by gun violence to rally the NRA hours after people have died.
The England Rugby team do their celebrational parade down Oxford Street today to Trafalgar Square. People have queued up since 11pm last night for the 20 minutes or so that the team will be there. Oh well. Good on them anyway. It was a brilliant game.
Getting rather excited to go home and see everyone. Won't be long no. Better do some shopping.
5 Dec 2003
05.12.03 - One of us, one of us
Yesterday, it pleased her Majesty's goverment to grant me indefinite leave to remain. In other words, I was given residency in the United Kingdom and I'm no longer dependent on an employer sponsoring a work visa to remain in the UK. It's a type of freedom, and some reassurance, and an oh so lovely goal I've accomplished. In 12 short months I can apply for citizenship which has become an increasingly important idea -- I want to really feel I belong here. I want to be able to vote and influence the country. I want to know that this small dark island I've made my home counts me in its citizenship.
The responses from friends has been amusing to read. The Americans are very earnest in their congratulations. The Brits have, without fail, taken the piss (which really tells me I'm fitting in.)
The responses from friends has been amusing to read. The Americans are very earnest in their congratulations. The Brits have, without fail, taken the piss (which really tells me I'm fitting in.)
3 Dec 2003
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