Année : 2004

Saw this sign painted on the window of a men’s beauty product store in the Castro neighborhood:

Tested on boyfriends, not animals.

In general, I think Blork and I don’t fit the usual gender stereotypes. He cooks, I take the garbage out. He cries during movies I find sappy. I’m grumpy and like to read the paper in the morning while he wants to talk about how my night was. You get the picture.

But tonight is my friend’s big wedding in a private club on Nob Hill (one of San Francisco’s fanciest neighborhoods) and while I was having acrylic nails put on and a French manicure (for the first time in my life, mind you), Blork was booking the rental of a convertible sports car for our trip down Route 1 next week.

What is America doing to us?

Blork and I are in San Francisco again, and like last time, I’m lost for words (or posts). Maybe coming back here is just too strange, since this city was home for me during some very exciting years in my life. Every other street corner seems to have a memory attached to it and yet it no longer feels like I belong here.The city seems a bit sad as well. It’s a tough time to be an American I think, and it’s even worse when you’re a san franciscan and your whole country is going in a different direction from you. The friends we hung out with last night joked that we should keep a space for them in our basement in Montreal, should Bush get re-elected…

This is Blork’s third visit here and our second visit together, so there’s no pressure to see everything and do the complete tour. We’re taking it easy, walking my friend’s dog around, hanging out with cool people, stuffing our faces with great, inexpensive food and taking naps (the jet lag isn’t big but it’s still there). I like traveling to a place I’ve already been to before. Seems like the location holds a little bit of your personal history and you really do the things you feel like doing, not the ones you think you ought to.

Gotta go walk the dog. How’s springtime in Montreal?