Monday, May 08, 2006

“This was back when we lived in San Francisco. My friend Yma was trying to plan a party and complaining about the difficulty of getting the gender balance right. She said the women in San Francisco were so manly, the more of them you invited the more “male” the party became. Her roommate Darnton decorated everything with paisley and flowers and mirrors and old instructional manuals for busted electronic antiquities he and Yma had purchased at flea markets. To pay for anything was embarrassing. Anything you dragged off the street you’d count on someone eventually telling you had been in their apartment before. And anything you put out on the street was gone before you could get back up your stoop. If you visited your parents you dragged along an empty suitcase and raided the attic. The whole Bay Area was majoring in Thrift Store. People even bought used drugs. And every time you broke up with someone you knew you were just making them more attractive for the next person. Up to a point. Ever see the movie Logan’s Run? When you turned thirty you floated up towards the ceiling of the discotheque and exploded.”



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