Back

Tim Does Berkeley and San Francisco (with help from Arne and Larry-Bob)

"Pudgy Bear, pudgy Bear, where have you been? I've been off to 'Frisco to see the Queens."

So that's not how the nursery rhyme goes...aren't I a fairy? Can't I re-write the tales? :)

More accurately, I went off to San Francisco to see one particular queen - the queen who is the King of my heart (sickening, isn't it? :) ).

To be less obtuse, my boyfriend was off to California for four months to do whatever it is he does with Math (I could try and explain it to you - but then he'd have to kill me :) ), and he asked me if I'd like to come visit him while he was there.

Luckily, one of my co-workers had been ill (and died on November 11 - R.I.P., Bernie), and another went on annual vacation for a month, so I was able to save enough money to make that a possibility.

Once I discovered I didn't need a passport (though not until after I'd had two pictures of me taken (without combing my hair - though the photographer thought I should, I'd always been told I should look natural in these things, and I rarely take much time on my few tresses...)), it was fairly smooth sailing. I just had to pay too much for my ticket, and get some American currency at the rate of one American penny per thousand Canadian bucks (I exaggerate - slightly...).

I decided to go for 10 days, and September 11-21 seemed best, for complex reasons relating to work, weather in California, and, of course, the Homosexual Agenda. (Though it turns out the Folsom Street Fair, THE Bear/leather event, was the weekend after I came home - oops...)

I got to the airport on the 11th. Everything went well, considering I haven't flown in many years. The only guff was the Customs guy (imagine that!!). He asked me, in this macho voice that years of cigarettes and pointless yelling at sports matches can produce, whether it was business or pleasure. I stumbled through 'pleasure, mostly'. He probed: 'Purpose of trip?' I said: 'To visit a friend.' He asked: 'Male or female?' I replied: 'Male.' He sneered, and I contemplated pointing out that he was on Canadian soil, where we expect our homophobes to POLITELY make our lives unbearable - but I wanted to see my sweetheart, so I just gave him the 'this isn't over between us, baby' grin, and he let me through.

Got to see 'Life Is Beautiful' on the flight. Frankly, I'm not sure I would have paid for it...its being the Pope's fave film of the year should have set off alarm bells. Nice...sweet...but I think it emphasized the wrong story...and years of Hollywood endings did not lead me to expect the main character to die - I kept waiting for the miracle. Darn Hollywood all to heck!! :).

Arrived in San Francisco. Warm - muggy, actually - and a bit hazy (that I would get used to - the one day it was sunny, I was briefly confused...). Not entirely sure if I should be reporting to someone (I was being overly paranoid), I went outside to catch the shuttle bus to Berkeley, though it took me quite some time and a lot of contradictory directions from airport personnel to find it.

You know you're in trouble when the driver doesn't know how to get there, and expects you to give directions (I tried to give him the map Arne had sent me, but he said he could look it up (he couldn't find the street)). Luckily, three of the passengers on board were heading to places close by...

Greeted Arne as you might expect (oh, stop it, you filthy-minded types - with a hug and a kiss...as it happens, given that Arne is very tall, we could not share his bed during my stay (for sleep purposes, anyway)).

Berkeley is a bit like Kingston - a university town with a sleepy vibe to it (though its street people are more colourful and violent/unpredictable - that doesn't happen too often in Kingston...). It even has an expensive restaurant, Chez Panisse, to parallel Kingston's Chez Piggy, though Chez Panisse requires reservations months in advance (Chez Piggy is not that patronized). No, we didn't go...

Typically, during my stay, I met people who knew where Kingston was, and even someone who knew what both Tim Horton's AND Stomping Tom Connors were (a donut store and a Canadian singer respectively). I mean, I've met RUSSIANS who knew where Kingston was...I just have a knack for it. I also had one of my philosophical arguments with friends put to a test.

To wit, when in, say, a Tim Horton's, where the washrooms are single occupancy, and there is a line at the women's washroom, and no-one in the men's, will a woman use the men's? In Canada, I have not noticed it happen. It certainly did in the subways in Berkeley and San Francisco.

Interesting subways - they charge by how far you go, though it's not as though the rates are posted anywhere.

There are wonderful record stores in Berkeley. Though I don't do ads, I would be remiss if I did not recommend both Rasputin's and Amoeba on Telegraph Ave. for those hard to find vinyl thingies. I found STACKS of 'Girls In The Garage' LPs, PILES of Half Japanese disks, and OODLES of Martha and the Muffins and Moxy Fruvous material (no, I didn't buy any of them...). I could wander for days...my equivalent of fashionable fags' fetish for shoes and sweaters.

Frankly, much of the trip was a whirl, and I played sightseer to a disgusting extent (yes, the Golden Gate (with all the thanks in the world to LarryBob, about whom more later...); China Town; the gay castro (I kept trying to drag Arne into some of the bars, just so I could say we were there - we went into a place called Harvey's on castro, which was like a licensed Second Cup - also visited A Different Light, the queer bookstore, and found it interesting how non-literary and disappointing it was); the Mission; the Haight (which is very gentrified, nothing like I thought it would be, though City Lights, the infamous bookstore where Kerouac, Ginsberg, and a creep named William whose last name I'm NOT writing hung out, was suitably atmospheric, if in disarray due to earthquakeproofing...); and so much more). I also, thanks to walking up into the Berkeley Hills with Arne to work one day, got to see the incredible beauty of Berkeley's forests along the Fire Trail on the way down (next time I WILL take that bus...).

But, of course, San Francisco is also the home to LarryBob, the editor of one of my fave mags, HOLY TITCLAMPS, and someone with whom I've been corresponding for some time. I HAD to meet him (I tried to avoid it, but he insisted...kidding, kidding...).

We (and, by default, poor Arne, who doesn't like rock music, but who knew how to get there) went to 924 Gilman, the famous Berkeley punk club, to see a concert on September 17. Arne and I could have worked the door, but chose not to (I wanted to see LarryBob, and I know Arne was not willing to play doorman).

It was quite a bill, and it was nice not to be the oldest person at an all-ages show, since, in Kingston, the person closest to my age is still ten years younger than me (LarryBob's older; Arne's older; and quite a few others there were as well, including the ancient and reclusive Larry Livermore of Lookout Records fame (he was there, according to LarryBob)). The show opened with some band called Wolf Colonel (cute boy singer, but the guitar windmill arm gestures, the incitations to rock and inquiries as to how we were doing and high praise of (insert name of town here), and the incredibly stupid comment about how they had a release on K, and how probably no-one there would know K (this is a stupid comment in a crowd full of riot girls and sensitive boys), detracted from the presentation, though the powerhouse girl drummer was a treat). Then a very peculiar project called MeMe America came on. It was one girl on keyboards and vocals and another on guitar. It was like Suicide meets Bikini Kill (electronics collides with militance, in other words). Then came Jody Bleyle of ex-Team Dresch fame to do a few songs (I got to speak to her afterwards - I was wearing my 36C Fifth Column shirt, which she wears in one Dresch record, and she noticed it...). Then the Automaticans, featuring former members of Patsy and Longstocking - power-pop-punk, more aggressive than Longstocking (I don't know Patsy to speak of it). Again, a nice drummer (a pretty cub of a lad, as it happens :) ), and Tamala, the guitarist/singer, was cool to chat to.

And, finally, the Need (when one of my earplugs popped out, I was glad to be wearing them), a dyke duo on guitar and drums/vocals. Very loud - very precise - astonishingly tight performance (LarryBob was in awe of how synchronized they were). I had always wondered how they would play live, given their tendency to play multiple instruments...and now I know...

After LarryBob gave us a ride home in his tiny car (Arne gets carsick easily, especially in traffic in boxy vehicles (and, when you're 6'7", most cars ARE boxy) - good thing it was dead on the roads...), we got some sleep and then dashed off to meet LarryBob and his partner Nick for breakfast at Josie's in San Francisco, where Nick works.

Nice vegetarian place (which was a challenge for Arne, who is the antithesis of a vegetarian/vegan...I'm flexible...). Nick was a quiet but nice and funny fellow (LarryBob is animated and has amazing musical/film knowledge, as I might have expected...). Arne, LarryBob and I spent the day wandering about, visiting this seaside museum/penny arcade, lingering around the Golden Gate bridge (where the first thing you see as you approach the walkway is a suicide/crisis phone...), and generally wasting time.

Monday came. That night, we took in a comedy night at Josie's, where Nick performed as well. It was entertaining and varied...including someone who, if people back home have a hard time reading me on gaydar, would fool everyone into thinking he was straight...if Henry Rollins WERE gay (don't let's get started), this guy would be him.

Tuesday came. Sob...worry...as it happens, the shuttle bus was so late, I got to the airport with less than half an hour before boarding time (I pre-booked it for 10:30 - it was well past 11 when it arrived - my flight was to leave at 12:15). Luckily, the departure was delayed. Movie on flight very sappy thing...'The Love Letter'...all about this letter that drifts into people's lives and forces matrimony upon them...a horror picture, I think. :)

And home again...with a head full of memories and a funny way of walking. :) (I'll say I'm referring to the fact that all those hills tend to leave you walking at an angle on level ground, and stick to that interpretation of my statement, even under torture...).

SOME PICTURES FROM MY 9/99 SAN FRANCISCO/BERKELEY TRIP, LISTED AND BRIEFLY DESCRIBED BELOW



A vegetarian cabaret in San Francisco





Sea Lions, reclaiming Pier 39, Fisherman's Wharf, SF





So it's a cliche...shoot me...





A beautiful mural on a building in Chinatown, SF





Arne on the Fire Trail, Berkeley Hills, Berkeley.





City Lights Bookstore, SF





Arne at gates of Chinatown





Me at same gate, taken by Arne





LarryBob (of Holy Titclamps zine) and his partner Nick, Josie's, 9/18/99, Breakfast





Big flag outside Gay Men's Chorus Building, SF





Taken by Arne on his camera. I wanted a picture of the suicide/crisis phone that's just before you walk on the bridge, but a certain tall someone thought that would be tasteless.





A natural, unposed shot of me near the Bridge (yeah, right!).





Me on Fire Trail, by Arne.





Me in the Berkeley Rose Gardens, by Arne, near the Golden Showers flowers (I kid you not).





It was bright and sunny ONE DAY while we were in SF. Me in Chinatown, by Arne.





Something to consider - I'm six feet tall, not tiny. By LarryBob, 9/18/99.

Back