The blog of the thirty-something fag- March Edition 2007

March 30th, 2007

Can't a guy be busy?

Blogging from San Francisco today- waiting for a ride to the airport for my 2:40 flight back to L.A.

The donor T-shirt Incetive Project is gaining ground, picking up speed. I approached the new director of the AIDS/Lifecycle and he's interested in promoting it, though the details still need to be worked out.

I came up here on Wednesday of this week, scheduled some time at the SF ALC office to hand out T-shirts to the many riders from NoCal who ordered them. They're all a good bunch, know a smart deal when they see one. I asked them to tell their friends, get more orders in, we're doing another print run in May. If we can get another 1k order it would be nothing short of Sweet, I think that would put my projec on the map, and I can stop pushing it. The idea of a commemorative T-shirt for the donors of the AIDS/Lifecycle should sell itself, damnit!

About San Francisco
Love it, hate it.The people here are so friendly, look you in the eye when they talk to you. Smiles are loose here, and they fly around like pigeons. Nothing like L.A.
In Los Angeles, people are afraid to talk to each other. Someone is always trying to sell you something in Los Angeles, so trust is a difficult gift. Handshakes need to be earned. You can't even walk into a Trader Joes without someone trying to register you to vote.

In San Francisco it's different, but not always better. Yes, the people are friendlier, happier, cheerier. A handsome boy, who had every reason in the world to ignore me while waiting in line for the restroom actually asked me how my night was going, chatted me up. I learned his fauxhawk hairstyle was a girlfriends idea, and he wasn't sure about his stylish, alligator shoes. It would take a week's worth of cockatails to get that kind of information out of an Angelino.

The downside is the street people.

It's been years since I felt that uncomfortable walking down the avenue. Market street is like a zoo, where the cages got busted open. You never know what drug-incensed human is going to spontaneously start screaming at you. A transvestitute approached me and told me how her night as ruined because his/her boyfriend raped her mother and now has a "new bitch". I'm trying to get that vision the hell out of my head still.

it's really interesting how so many cities in one United States can be so drastically different from each other. New York, San Fran, Chicago, New Orleans, Boston; all American, no two alike, all different personalities.

Does any one wonder why I travel so much?

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