Year: 2007

I think it’s time that people phased out this awful expression. What does it mean, anyhow? http://cactuseaters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

I love San Francisco. However, I’m noticing a small problem. Skinny, vintage-clothes-wearing, Conor Oberst-worshipping, authentic-dive-bar-seeking hipsters have taken over this city. They are starting to affect my life. For example, I am in serious need of new glasses but I can’t find anything that doesn’t have thick black wire rims to broadcast an ironic-nerdy look. I’m afraid that if I wear such glasses, the irony will be lost on a lot of people. http://cactuseaters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

Thanks to everyone who showed up to the Steinbeck Fellows reading. It was a great time — and the crowd was so much bigger than I expected (standing room only. Cool.) in other news, John Prine played for free at an enormous festival at Golden Gate Park this weekend. I joined a small throng of Prinefreaks who made a single-file line that snaked its slow way to the very front. Prine is one of my heroes; his songs are so precise. (no word or phrase feels out of place to me. He can switch gears from heartbreak to comedy and back again. Sometimes he’ll even figure out ways to combine these things in the same three-minute song.) Prine sounded great to me; he battled throat cancer a couple of years ago, and, if anything, his voice sounded scratchier, deeper, croakier and more distinctive than before. More than this, it was…

Come out and see us read at the MLK Library, fifth floor, at 7 p.m. tonight (Thursday, October 4.) I will be reading a very sad story about cacti (and one cactus in particular) http://cactuseaters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

It’s official — I’ve moved to San Francisco — and weird things are happening already. I went into a high-end cheese shop in Noe Valley and asked the woman behind the counter if she had any good-quality fresh-made ricotta cheese. She said, “Absolutely,” and reached into the fridge. She pulled out a huge tub of ricotta cheese. “You would really like this stuff,” she said, smiling, as she dipped a tasting spoon into the cheese and skimmed off a delicous looking sample. And then, instead of handing it to me — she ate it herself!! “Ahh,” she said. “That was really good. You should try it sometime.” Also, when I was in the Haight, I said hello to someone I recognized. She did not remember me — and, on top of that, I knocked over a container of organic strawberries, which spilled all over the filthy street. Trying to cover…

I just discovered that the aforementioned barber left a small, lightning-shaped dent (a tribute to Harry Potter?) in my hair. I also discovered a bunch of wasps hanging out under my car on two separate occasions. I’m worried that there’s a wasp’s nest growing deep inside the chassis of my car. More later. http://cactuseaters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

It would be great if you could all come out to hear Peter Malae, Lysley Tenorio and me read on October 4 at 7 p.m. on the fifth floor of the lovely MLK Library in downtown San Jose. Light refreshments will be served. The event is free. http://cactuseaters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

Yesterday I went to a neighborhood barbershop in Cupertino. These days, barbers don’t need a whole lot of instruction or advice when it comes to my hair. I tell them, “Use a one and a half on the sides and a two on the top.” They scalp me every couple of weeks. Anyhow, the female barber took out the clipper and was buzzing away at my skull. She stopped, looked at me through the mirror and said, “You don’t have a lot of hair, but the hair that you do have is shapely. Your hair has a good shape.” I just thought I’d pass that along. Next time you see me, make sure to compliment me on my shapely hair. http://cactuseaters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

I’m not quite sure how this happened. Some of the students in one of my comp classes at San Jose State University call me Professor Diddy. HOw on earth did I get such a nickname? I must admit, it’s my fault entirely. Here (I think) is what happened: A couple of my students were trying to figure out what to call me in class. They threw out a whole bunch of possibilities. “Dan.” “Mr. Dan.””Professor Dan,” “Mr. White.” “Professor White.” I could have chosen any one of those options and it would have been just fine. The problem is, I overthought the situation. “Mister White” sounded a little too much like a hated PE teacher, while “Dan” sounded too informal. I didn’t like “Professor Dan” because it sounded a bit too much like “Ranger Rick.” I’m a lecturer, technically speaking, but “Lecturer White” sounds weird to me, like a character…

I kind of stole the inspiration for this entry from a conversation I had last night in SF. Anyhow, it’s strange for me to hear about 80s ‘nostalgia’ parties and hear ‘flashback’ weekends highlighting the songs of my adolescence. I’m wondering if anyone in my age group remembers (with a shudder) the following ditties that tormented me on KROQ during my teenage years. I’m talking about the kind of songs that had me in a mad rush to change the dial, even when I was hurtling down the 405 freeway at 85 miles an hour. “Shanoo, Shanoo” by Haysi Fantayzee “I Eat Cannibals” by Total Coelo. “Pepperoni Ice Cream” by Killer P …. “Oh! My Janitor” by Suburban Lawns. “Slang Teacher” by Wide Boy Awake. “We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” by Jermaine Stuart. “Rappin’ Duke” by John Wayne. “P-A-J-A, Pajama Party!” by (I couldn’t remember the name…