Tonight's the night...

It's 10:13 at Thespian's. We've just finished a lovely dinner of roast pork and beans with sauteed kale and bacon-wrapped, chorizo-and-chevre-stuffed dates. Two bottles of wine. Oh, and his mom was there. Have I ever mentioned that his mom is a Pisces--like me--and also, a former reporter? Like me. Or rather, I am suspiciously like her in these ways...and also busom-ly speaking. Coincidence or...?

Anywho, the point is it's 10:17 and his mom has left and he's snoring on the couch, curled up with Mango, and I'm feeling dangerous--restless, mostly--and like I have a lock on my heart or throat or something. Kerf would call it "the third leg of the potato sack." But that's another story. What I'm trying to say is that I'm feeling strangely wild and mild, you know, simultaneously.

And as I'm feeling this duplicity, I just so happen to click upon Rob Brezsny's horoscopes--which I admire but also sometimes have to curse for being too fucking esoteric--and this time it was eerily relevant. And completely clear:

"The planets are aligned in such a way that suggest you may be able to experience an orgasm solely by meditating."

OMG. This is so true.

"This rare cosmic alignment also means that it's conceivable you could generate money or attract new resources by following your holy bliss, or that you might stumble upon the tricky treasure you've been looking for in all the wrong places. But I can't say for sure that you will actually be able to capitalize on any of these remarkable opportunities. It will depend on whether you can more fully express one of the skills that is your birthright as a Pisces: being wild and disciplined at the same time."

Hallefuckinglujah.

The relationship and the game--like peanut butter and chocolate...

A curious thing happened to me while reading NY Magazine's "The Sex Diaries: A Critical (But Highly Sympathetic) Reading of New Yorkers’ Sexual Habits and Anxieties"--in which writer Wesley Yang reviews a 132-week run of mostly naughty, dysfunctional and totally real confessionals from strangers dating, hooking-up or in relationships. Some of it was torrid, others kind of nauseating, none of it was really glamorizing the joys of singlehood without talking about the messy, lonely, heartbreaking bits. And yet, I was jealous. Which is totally dumb--I am in a relationship that is, for the most part, pretty darn good.

The great thing about my relationship with Thespian is that we don't play games. It's just that sometimes I miss the game, as stupid as that is. And I've been thinking it's a this one or the other kind of thing. Which is wholly depressing. Makes me feel old, like I lost my sexuality and heat. But what if the secret is to combine the two--put the game back in the relationship? 'Cause we all know you can't put the relationship in the game. So there you have it.

Perhaps I should start calling Thespian, Mr. Thespian, from now on...(you know, like the famous French actress-writer couple, Arielle Dombasle and Bernard-Henri Levy?)

"All theoreticians of eroticism know when there's no distance, there's no border, when there's no border, there's no taboo, when there's no taboo, there's no transgression, and when there's no transgression, there's no desire" --Bernard-Henri Levy

Dia de los Drinkos!

Today is the Day of the Dead (or, El Dia de los Muertos) but I'm uncertain as to how you announce the celebration of this life-affirming/death-respecting holiday. Happy Day of the Dead? Merry Day of the Dead?? Sorry-for-your-loss-happy-it-wasn't-me-yet Day of the Dead???

Yeah, awful. But if you get a chance, check out your local Mexi-brations and be safe out there--it's a full moon, you know...

Holy Day of... P.S.

And just in case you haven't fully realized how charming and cool Beth and her man, Kevin, are (see post below)--here are photos of the day AFTER Halloween, when, just for shits and giggles, Beth and her man donned Kid Rock (that's Beth) & Pamela Anderson (Kevin) apparel for their own (and now your) enjoyment...

No word on the subsequent video.

Holy Day of the Fantastic-Boyfriends-Who-Bake Dead cakes!

Beth, the art director for the Pacific Sun, is a super cool chick who used to be in a bunch of SF punk bands (including the Loudmouths) and did an indie movie (that got a lot of attention at the time) with Thespian in the '90s called, "Mary Jane's Not a Virgin Anymore." She also used to be the art director for SF Bay Guardian but now she's designing our little Marin paper while gigging with the Meat Sluts and playing electric 'ukulele with Pineapple Princess, runs this really rockin' van website (no, really, that's what it's called) and does taxidermy on the side--you know, just for fun. Other people think she's cool, too but yeah... she makes me feel like I really don't do much. Well, mostly because that's true.

And, OK, because she's so cool, she also has a cool boyfriend who tattoos and is going to school to be an EMT. AND he bakes cool cakes for Day of the Dead to give to his class--the big one he sent with Beth for our office. What a guy, hunh??

Yeah, I know. These people make me sick, too. -xo

'Have you ever noticed that their stuff is shit and your shit is stuff?' - George Carlin

Ah, Carlin... of course, he also said, "The planet is fine. The people are fucked."

Speaking of which, I interviewed eco-activist Annie Leonard this week--you've heard of her, right? She's the lady who did this very cool, short film on YouTube called, "The Story of Stuff." (If you haven't seen it, you really ought to. Seriously. It's only 20 minutes and she also breaks it up into even shorter segments and it's very easy to understand and comes with really cute animation and it's very important, uh, stuff so don't be a pansy about it--just WATCH IT! That is all.)

Anyway, I met her in Berkeley and she was very nice--we bonded (for a half-second) because she's from Seattle and I had just flown in from a wedding there a couple hours before (more about that later...if you're lucky). She's also going to be speaking at this weekend's Bioneers conference, along with Michael Pollan, Andrew Weil and others. I'm thinking about going on Sunday, if I'm not too book-and-booze hungover from the previous night's LitCrawl--last year's was so very inspirational (OK so I'm talking about both events now).

Here's the rather lengthy Q&A that resulted: "The Story of Annie Leonard--All the 'stuff' and more..."

[PHOTOS: PS cover w/Annie Leonard by James Hall; Bioneers earthy by Tim Porter]

It's the ultimate...(rock-rockin' it)...

Tonight after Wednesday's usual print-deadline chaos, I decided to take advantage of Pacific Sun's event-sponsorship of A Taste of Downtown San Rafael...

There were 32 businesses (retail shops, art galleries and restaurants) participating in the event, offering samplings of either wine or food, so I decided to narrow it down to only restaurants, and only the restaurants offering food AND wine tastings and only the restaurants offering food and wine AND that I had not yet frequented and had a genuine interest in. So I stopped by Vin Antico for a meatball and chianti, then Joe's for caprese, smoked salmon and pinot noir, Il Davide for a mushroom bruschetta and an Italian red, and the West End Cafe for tabouleh, hummus-on-cucumber and cabernet sauvignon...until I hit the expected pinnacle of pretension at Sabor of Spain--which actually had a particularly awesome bacon-wrapped, almond-stuffed date (and from what I heard--cuz I don't do fowl in strange places--a spectacular leg of quail), but whose servers and denizens were oddly and snobbily tense, so I ran out of that haughty hotbox down to a hidden treasure trove of cool, amicable Zen and unexpectedly fresh, flavorful spring rolls with mango salad at Citrus & Spice.

Then I floated over to friendly, fun & funkily artsy Whipper Snapper for a very tasty fried plantain with black bean laced with sour cream, and sangria. At that point--and because more random Marin people had talked to me this evening than the year-and-a-half I've been working in Marin--I was feeling bold enough to hightail it around the corner (5 minutes before my bus) to Cafe Arrivederci for my final tasting, which proved to be the most generous and professional offering: table service with a sommelier explaining each sampling pour, and a full bowl of piping-hot, fresh ravioli stuffed with sausage and heaven in a creamy bed of clouds. (Everything's a bit hazy as I was experiencing mild food-orgasm.)

OK, so an attractive older businessman flirted with me, some cougars pushed me out of their way, some foodie newbies asked me for a lesson on Mediterranean cuisine, a yuppie family poo-pooed me (and I promise, this time I was wearing a non-cleavage baring, dignified-length, very loose--albeit, yeah, somewhat slinky--red dress) and a wayward lesbian hit on me.

All in all, it was pretty cool skipping down the street, trying out a handful of restaurants I'd never been to before, with my pinkie finger firmly wrapped around the stem of the wine glass, catching the shuttle to my (temporary) San Anselmo cute, art-filled cottage in time to write my blog and watch "So You Think You Can Dance." Had I been able to fit in a pilates class and a tryst with my personal trainer, it would've been the ultimate Marin experience.