Author Archives: didofoot
Tales from the darkest Mission
One of the companies that shares our office is run by a man named Temp. “Were your parents expecting a more permanent child to come along later or something?” I asked, but weirdly he did not think this was very funny. There is a conference of math teachers meeting here this week and the hipster-looking … Continue reading
That’ll do, pig
I walk around the Mission surrounded by girls shaped like good asparagus. Vegans, the lot of them. Don’t they have to be? How else do you achieve that level of fleshlessness? These girls answer the question of who could possibly wear that sack you saw hanging at the back of Goodwill or Anthropologie and make … Continue reading
I just need one anecdote, just to get me through the day
I lost my sense of humor sometime last night. I’m not sure exactly when, but I woke up this morning and it was definitely gone. It’s weird because I didn’t do much yesterday — usually this stuff disappears with your cellphone or car keys when you’re drunk as a skunk in the Mission. Could it … Continue reading
Pain in the face
Last night I dreamed I was shot in the tongue. Then the doctor who fixed me up tried to molest me. In both cases, a question of speaking out or not. There was no pain in the dream when I was tongue-shot, but then I don’t remember much pain in real life when I pierced … Continue reading
She works hard for the money
I am now a proud employee of X Company and have just completed my first three and a half days of work. X Company is a non-profit that does nice things for poor kids, so it’s a far cry from my previous DARPA-related position, and all the people seem friendly in an officey kind of … Continue reading
It’s just Norma and Franz
About twice every year for the past five years I’ve been taking a stab at reading Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow. (And how I wish I could take an actual stab at you, Pynchon, you ornery fucker.) My most recent stab started a few days ago, and for the first time I was delighted to find I … Continue reading
Over a German dinner
Over a German dinner the Lad said Munich is just an imagined city to him now. Nothing there corresponds with anything here; it makes memories difficult to believe in. It’s the same thing with people you used to know, I guess. You keep souvenirs and letters, but after a while you’re looking at your shelf … Continue reading
In which MUNI and I get pinned
I sold my car today. Because it’s so functional I never got attached to it the way I did with my other cars–the plucky little Honda with no air conditioning, the first Audi whose stereo had to be enjoyed through headphones. Those were the cars that saw me through high school, through Seattle and San … Continue reading
Anais says “I have the impression that I am overestimated.”
Not that I am bourgeois enough to care about things like grades or approval or getting into grad school someday, but I got almost all A’s this semester, which is not so hot if you are Michele, who I think has never gotten less than an A in her life, but pretty great for me. … Continue reading
Looking for someone who is tall, yet clean
I drank with a Vigil yesterday. We were taught to play pool by a drunk guy named Joe. At first the Vigil was not too keen on the lesson, but I said “It’s all right. I’m sure Joe’s very nice. Anyway, he’s drunk.” Joe’s face fell. “Not drunk,” I said, “no. That was a joke.” … Continue reading