1. Last night at Evany and Marco's party, everyone looked fabulous. It was like my fantasy of my grownup life come true. Men in ties, women in cocktail dresses. Everyone standing in companionable cocktail party clusters chatting attractively. Just what I always wanted.
2. I saw MILK at the Castro this afternoon. It's been playing there nearly a month, so I assumed it would be me and maybe twenty other people, but the line stretched down the block. To see Harvey Milk's story in a sold-out house at the Castro where we all smiled at each other even as our umbrellas dripped unpleasantly on one another's shoes, where people clapped like mad for the organist before the movie even began, where there was (and always seems to be) an enormous feeling of good will... Well. That felt like a huge privilege. I am proud, proud, proud to live here.
3. The bus stop at Haight and Divisadero is strangely convivial late at night. I did not previously know this, but I was there at 2:30am on Friday night (Saturday morning) and just now, as well. People are chatty and bond over the ridiculousness of waiting for a bus in the middle of the night. People go out of their way to not seem scary since after midnight is a wary time among strangers. On Friday (Saturday for sticklers) I was coming home from the klezmer madness party I'd been at (really--accordions, clarinets, a drum, a bass, a viola, a violin, a bed tipped on end to accommodate them all) and the bus didn't come for a very long while. In the end, a man named Amir offered to share a taxi with me and then wouldn't let me pay for my leg of the journey. Thanks, Amir.
4. I have a crush on this band I just heard. Ramon and Jessica. They are charming in such a way that you want to put them in your pocket and keep them with you all the time.
5. Daniel and I were dancing in the lobby of Cafe du Nord as people cleaned up around us. The song over the speakers may have been "You Send Me."
D: I start my house-sitting gig tonight.
K: Oh yeah? You didn't tell me.
D: Yeah. A cat named Jack.
[We continue to dance for a while in silence.]
D: An actual cat. Not a guy named Jack who I call "cat" because I play jazz.
K: Oh. I'm glad you clarified that.
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