2003-06-15 - 2:31 p.m. comforts of the flesh I get ahead on my motorbike I feel so quick in my leather boots I feel so quick in my leather boots My mood is black when my jacket's on My mood is black when my jacket's on And I'm in love with myself And I'm in love with myself There's nothing else but me There's nothing else but me And an empty road And a cool cool wind and it makes me feel so good Just like I knew it would Just like I knew it would By Friday morning, I was dragging. It was due in a small part to having been out past my bedtime on Thursday night at a local indie rock music discussion list's shindig at Cafe du Nord. I must add that Cafe du Nord was looking especially grand on Thursday night, thanks to the loving care being showered upon her by her new owners. Somehow, it feels even more bordello-esque (which is, I believe, one of its pst incarnations). This is a good thing. They replaced the dark wooden doors and short wall that separated the main lounge space from the "band room" with red velvet curtains that were pulled back when the music started. Additionally, they moved the pool table from its middle-of-the-lounge position (which often formerly caused elbows and pool cues to collide with cocktail-swilling socialites) to the alcove formerly occupied by a big sofa and some chairs that's raised above the crowd. Thankfully, the cozy sofa-seating at the end of the bar is still there, though the sofa I sat on was either new or completely overhauled. Very nice. The fact that I requested some Jesus & Mary Chain, and got to hear "The Living End" off of some good condition Psychocandy vinyl was also exceptional. It may even have been the first time I've heard JAMC while in a bar. ..as a direct result of the evening, I am now a part of an indie rock mix CD club! It will be a few months before the do another trade, but now I'm in. Yeah!!! But back to Friday. Friday morning, after my 4 hours of sleep, I was moving slowly for my 8 and 9 a.m. meetings. I busted my ass on some writing and design projects afterwards, then gave myself a gift of time and hopped a bus to the Union Square Sephora for some retail therapy of the beauty products kind. I needed to procure some more of the cool grapefruit-smelling moisturizer I've been using (Bliss Labs' "quiet type" for sensitive skin). This stuff is incredibly expensive, but, unlike the drugstore crap I was using before, it doesn't make my skin go all red and blotchy. Luckily, it seems to last quite a while. I couldn't afford to be buying a new bottle every month.) I decided to skip out on the massage I was thinking of getting this month and to instead funnel that same cash into some at home de-stressing products. So... I picked up some of the moisturizing socks and their deep-moisturizing cream, and a pair of glamour gloves and their moisturizing cream. I now feel soft and sleek and happy. My final indulgence on Friday was ordering in a slew of southern fried chicken and sides from Powell's Place. I've been picking at cold chicken and cornbread muffins all weekend long. Mmmmmm. Heaven. On Saturday, I used some of the Bliss Labs "Rosy Toes" foot soak stuff before going to have my nails done (more of my destressing package), and it made the whole process go much more quickly -- it got rid of my dry skin and cuticles. Pretty amazing stuff. I've been going to the same vietnamese woman for my manicures and pedicures for the past 6 or 7 years. Her shop is less than a block from my house, and her prices are much better than the salons and day spas downtown. Unfortunately, it appears my nail lady has died, though the two ladies now running the salon made up some mysterious story about her having very bad allergies and being afraid to come in and see her customers. Yes, that *sounds* like a plausible story... until you look around and see that they've completely overhauled the place, down to removing the shop name from the window, replacing and moving the TV and ditching alltogether the ratty boom box that she used to listen to books on tape with when the shop was empty. Perhaps she was allergic to her shop's past? Unlikely at best. As I watched my Urban Decay "bruise" nail polish dry, a Russian guy in an ill-fitting navy blue suit who seemed to be in a really bad mood came in and asked for a foot massage. They tried to talk him into a pedicure too, but he could not be swayed to dunk his toes into some warm soapy water. The poor ladies. This scene illustrated something I like about my nighborhood though -- it's this weird assortment of Russian Orthodox families, vietnamese and korean immigrants, and twenty-/thirty-something white kids, all coexisting from Golden Gate Park to the Presidio, all the way out to the ocean...I like having two sushi paces a block from my house, with a russian bagel shop across the street, next door to my favorite thai food place. I also like having all the Clement Street asian produce markets surrounding my favorite used bookstore, and having European delis and Tommy's 100+ bottles of tequila, all within a quick walk from my door. I am aware of constantly feeling as though I want to/have to soak it all up, 'cuz things change fast. And although this place feels like home, in all honesty, it's not likely this is permanent for me, not yet. Not in this apartment, and not with this job. And I just don't know what's going to happen next... any comments? 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