decline to state

How it begins: someone sends a fascinating email or an interesting voicemail. I want to respond to it, but of course I want to think on it deeply first. Then I want to respond, carefully and entertainingly, a response that will somehow magically indicate the exact depth and breadth of my esteem for the receiver.

Time passes. Sometimes hours pass, or days, or weeks. This last time: three months. Three months. I don’t know how it’s gotten so out of control again, but somehow it has, this Perfectionist thing.

I cleared up some of the backlog today, but there are still things I have neglected to say, or in the intricate construction of them, forgotten why I was saying them. Like forgetting to answer the rung doorbell, opening the door months later, and chancing upon the same guest. You invite him in, but he looks confused, uncomfortable, maybe, or just unsure. You give him a glass of water, forgetting that he hates water. You both start all over, and you hope he stays for dinner.


My mobile is shutting itself off. No fancy crashes or anything: just – Done. Goodnight. I like the coincidence of this and Mercury retrograde. I like it because I have the BlackBerry as a backup. I wouldn’t like it so much if it were my only link to the long-distance world. So if you’re having troubles contacting me voice, please follow up via email with [urgent] in the subject line.


Immediately after returning to San Francisco, I went for a mini cultural revival to DeLessio for food and to Flax for fountain pen ink. Now my Visconti is writing with Private Reserve Avocado, which is a lovely shade of medium brownish green. It’s not quite as wet as Burgundy Mist, but still leaves a lovely thick line on the page. Someday I’ll be diligent enough to fill my pen with bottled ink, but until then, I’m enjoying Private Reserve cartridges quite a bit.


The Flickr 333 party was crowdy – crowded+rowdy – in a positive way, but we didn’t stay long. I introduced the MSG to a few wonderful folks before it got too crowdy to move. We were hungry, and decided to duck out, eat something more substantial than hors d’oeuvres, and come back. Instead, we happened upon the third restaurant in the Boxed Foods Company family, B, and had such an excellent, lingering meal that we finished well after 21:00. The truffled yams served with the chicken prepared three ways are not to be believed. Everything we ate was so delicious, plus the service was outstanding. It was so good that we changed our brunch plans for today and went back to B for another terrific meal. B serves brunch until 16:00, too, so even if you get a late start, there is somewhere very tasty waiting for you in SoMa.

I would review B on a certain site, but I’m so done with that place. The last time I logged in, I read snotty review after snotty review, reminding me once again that the very last thing I want to do is share my favorite places to eat with random snotty hipsters. I can barely tolerate their online existences, let alone in the meatworld.

That’s the down side to all these social networking websites: the people. Not all of them, mind you, just the ones I don’t like.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.