That's all: nine-tenths of a pound and I'm finally below my self-imposed 170lb redline. I've been above 170 (and 180 - and for about 6 months when I first moved down, over 190lbs) I've been as high as 208 on a 5'9" frame - and Weight Watchers would watch me catch and release the same 50lbs again and again. This time I didn't go back. Instead, I ( Read more... )

1993: My wife and I lived in our two-bedroom apartment on Queen Anne Hill with our two cats, Newton and Noss, a 2 year-old pug named Nero, and my wife's brother, Christophe. At the time Lili was 32 and I was 34. Christophe was 35 and had a birthday in July - so when he died on September 3rd, 1993 from AIDS and pneumonia, he was 36 ( Read more... )

Just decided this needed to be a separate update:

I've decided I'm going to run and/or swim every day in February, unless I get hit by a car, felled by a rotten tree branch, or drown.

I'm down 11 lbs. since December. I want to lose about 7-8 more. This is San Francisco. Everybody is bone thin - even the fat people here are thin.

One afternoon shortly after school had let out for the summer, Stephen, Russ and I sat down in the clearing in the vacant lot behind Russ' house and decided that Jay was totally weird and that our mission over the next eight years was to make him completely miserable ( Read more... )

Matt Tong of Bloc Party (new album released last week) - is hereby anointed, by me, God of indie-pop drumming. Well actually, he was sort of God in Waiting after the first album - Silent Alarm - but I had to see if he could keep up the standard to a 2nd release. He did. Most indie drummers are either technically proficient but character-free or ( Read more... )

This has been sort of interesting ( Read more... )

I spent Sunday-Thursday bound in the cocoon-like restraint of a fever, the result of getting a pretty good hit of the local 'flu. As a single person, this is like heaven and hell mashup. Great, great hallucinations - erotic fantasies playing out - my favorite woman doing all kinds of fluishy awful things to my body, which is locked in place to my ( Read more... )

OMG - this no-drinking till Friday has got to stop! I'm sober, people. Sober and cranky ( Read more... )

Piccolo's Pizza on 52nd and Roosevelt closed back in the early '90's. It was a dark, woody, grotto-y, sort of Joni Mitchelly, hippy kind of venue that had snug little rough-hewn bench niches, odd shaped rooms and hanging creepy vines. They served up an incredible pie, especially considering ( Read more... )

Not quite. How much was I putting away ( Read more... )