David Foster Wallace, 1962-2008

I was kind of stunned to learn yesterday that David Foster Wallace committed suicide over the weekend. I guess it was especially surprising because he wrote with so much humor and wit that you just wouldn't expect him to do this. When Elliott Smith killed himself, I was saddened but not really that surprised; he'd been singing about suicide, sometimes literally, for years. But Wallace just never seemed like the type.

Anyway, I kind of grew to love Wallace's particular style, with the ten-dollar words, the endless and lengthy footnotes, and the wry humor. He had a keen eye and ear and a powerful descriptive voice. He'll be missed.

Thanks, Apollo, for the great weather!

- Walking on Mission Street last night, near 29th, I passed one of the mostly-Latino bar/restaurant type places that had the windows boarded up, for some reason, and a shifty-looking guy guarding the door, which was closed tight. Just as I passed, there was a huge roar, like there was a big cheering crowd inside. WTF was going on in there? Fight club? Or just the Mexico-Canada World Cup qualifier? Or something else entirely?

- There were three quarterbacks drafted in the 2006 NFL draft. The highest-drafted was Vince Young, from Texas, who now is suffering some kind of emotional meltdown because Tennessee fans dared to boo him for shitty play and who now has resorted to having his mother tell the press that he's "hurting inside and out". I imagine the same goes for Titans fans.

The second was Matt Leinart, of USC, who is backing up the aging Kurt Warner at Arizona.

The third was Jay Cutler, from VANDERBILT, who isn't doing anything but carving up defenses with his rocket arm. SUCK IT, TEXAS AND USC.

- Debra Saunders in today's Chron, rebutting rumors about the slightly terrifying Sarah Palin:

In a 2006 gubernatorial debate, Palin said she believed in a "healthy debate" in public schools between creationism and evolution - and that reasonable view has been contorted into Palin wanting to force her creationist views down others' throats. Actually, it is the side that wants no debate that is intolerant.

Oh, Debra, you nut. A "healthy debate" between creationism and evolution is "reasonable"? How about a "healthy debate" in medical school about whether meningitis is caused by a virus or by demons? Maybe we'll teach kids that it's possible that thunderstorms are caused by Zeus's wrath. No good? Why so "intolerant"?

- You gotta get into Sons of Anarchy on F/X. It's like the Sopranos took over a California motorcycle gang. Great acting, good scripts, lots of swears. The only beef I have is that the sound mix seems a little off and it's hard to pick up all the dialogue sometimes, but I realize that's an ultra-picky thing to bitch about. Check it out.

Yes, one of these is actually real

Via Broadsheet on Salon.com:

Wow! Doesn't take much to get into Hell any more these days!

Our God is an angry God! Plus, RED ZONE FINES DOUBLED!

Oh noes! Just tell them you meant to order "Free Willy 2" and you hit the wrong button and then you covered up the TV with a blanket.

Oh, you know what? Good. Hell is too good for you.

Make your own at Church Sign Generator!

P.S. There's a church not far from my Dad's house (well, since he's in the South, there are like 35 churches not far from his house) that often has great signs. My fave was one, during a particularly hot part of the summer, that said, "THINK IT'S HOT? TRY HELL." Direct and to the point. Nicely done.

At least he'll have a cool scar

In Ancient Rome, oracles would attempt to divine the future by cutting open a pig and "reading" its entrails; that is, by looking for signs or meaning in the steaming intestines. Since I have a severe shortage of livestock, but still need some guidance about the future, I decided to use my iPod instead. We will select "Shuffle" and the first song that comes up will be today's message.

OK, here goes. First song: "It's a Motherfucker" by Eels. Sigh.

On the way to work today, I was approached by a guy who looked a little like a young John Cusack and was wearing a Comcast hat. He explained to me that he worked for Comcast and he had become stuck in the city and needed to get to Rohnert Park and, you know, could I help him out? I was like, "Dude, why don't you ask Comcast for the money?" There's always an angle, right?

I happened to be at the Giants game yesterday and therefore personally witnessed the biggest offensive explosion since they moved to China Basin. By now, of course, you've heard about the 10-run inning, which was pretty fucking awesome. And Nate McClouth getting hit in the face with a ball, which was not.

Anyway, nice day out at the park. Unless you're Nate McClouth.

Oh, they were giving away these lunchboxes with Looney Tunes characters dressed up as Giants, but you had to have a kid to get one. Super Hot Irish Girlfriend badly wanted one and was eyeing all the kids around us, hoping someone would leave one behind. Eventually she was standing next to some guy looking at his kid's lunchbox plaintively and the kid didn't want it and so the Dad looked at SHIG and I guess could see the desperation in her eyes and gave it to her. It instantly became one of her favorite things ever.

You can get one, too. There's one on eBay right now for $29.95. I hope that kid didn't mind giving it up.

Saturday night was dinner for The Sister's boyfriend at Chaya on the Embarcadero. The food was nothing to write home about - not mine, anyway - but the service was great. The Sister's boyfriend brought wine for us and they didn't charge corkage, I guess because we had a big group and dropped a lot of money anyway. Still, that sure was nice of them.

Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and some of the rest of the group continued on to Debaser at the Knockout, but I just couldn't take it. I just went home. Maybe I'm finally getting old. Or something.

"No, it says 'Barista'!"

Yeah, angry speech by Palin, blah blah blah whatever. Let's get to the important shit: LEVI JOHNSTON HAS THE NAME "BRISTOL" TATTOOED ON HIS FINGER.

Now, I'm not making any judgments about Levi or Bristol or their soon-to-be-undoubtedly-oddly-named prodigy, but FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, MAN, don't EVER get a chick's name tattooed on you, ANYWHERE.

Dude, you are 17 YEARS OLD and you're already cougar bait. You're going to have more opportunities with chicks than Motley Crue with a GHB dispenser. I'm sure you think Bristol is the love of your life and you'll always be together to raise little Jumpsuit or whatever, but, trust me, in a couple of years you're going to be rubbing coconut oil on triplets at Hedonism II and wondering who this guy "Bristol" is who keeps calling you.

That's why you don't get chicks' names tattooed on you. Just ask Johnny Depp.

At least I don't smoke pot and watch Adult Swim

Hoo boy. This article from Newsweek is setting off all kinds of triggers for me.

Once the preserve of whacked-out teens and college slackers, this testosterone-filled landscape is the new normal for American males until what used to be considered creeping middle age, according to the sociologist Michael Kimmel. In his new book, "Guyland," the State University of New York at Stony Brook professor notes that the traditional markers of manhood—leaving home, getting an education, finding a partner, starting work and becoming a father—have moved downfield as the passage from adolescence to adulthood has evolved from "a transitional moment to a whole new stage of life." In 1960, almost 70 percent of men had reached these milestones by the age of 30. Today, less than a third of males that age can say the same.

I guess I'm pretty much the poster boy for this phenomenon, as evidenced by the name of this blog. Here I am at 40, and like I like to say, I'm living exactly like I did when I was 28, except with better restaurants. What happened here?

A couple of things, I guess. In my actual 20's, I was working and then going back to school and generally not really concerned with growing up at all. None of my friends were grownups, so why should I be? I got married but we weren't in any rush to have kids.

Then in my 30's we moved out of the city (big mistake - I'll write another post someday about why Santa Cruz might be the worst place on Earth) and it seemed like it was time to settle down. My new friends in my new town started having kids. (Incidentally, I'm kind of using having kids as the shorthand for actually growing up, since no one I know can afford to buy a house here, the other traditional marker).

But my then-wife and I still weren't ready, I guess, and good thing, too, because we moved back to the city a couple of years later and broke up. So then, all of a sudden, I was in my mid-30's and had no wife and no kids and no house. What was I supposed to do, join a monastery?

This trend - 30- and 40-somethings acting like 20-somethings - has been discussed before, most notably in this article a few years back.

When did it become normal for your average 35-year-old New Yorker to (a) walk around with an iPod plugged into his ears at all times, listening to the latest from Bloc Party; (b) regularly buy his clothes at Urban Outfitters; (c) take her toddler to a Mommy’s Happy Hour at a Brooklyn bar; (d) stay out till 4 A.M. because he just can’t miss the latest New Pornographers show, because who knows when Neko Case will decide to stop touring with them, and everyone knows she’s the heart of the band.

Ouch. You're saying that stuff like it's a bad thing. What, just because I'm 40 I can't listen to Bloc Party any more? Now I feel bad about wearing the blazer I bought at Urban Outfitters. Sigh.

Anyway, I realize that I'm sort of stream-of-consciousness rambling here, but I'm trying to figure out if I should feel bad about the way I am. Well, fuck that. This is where life has taken me. I'm now a 40-year-old man who plays in an indie rock band, lives in a rented house in San Francisco, listens to Vampire Weekend, regularly sends and receives text messages, and writes a blog. I'll grow up later.

OK, who had Sarah Palin in the office pool?

Nobody did, that's who.

Somewhere, Mitt Romney is going, "Oh, fantastic. At least I could have promised that Tagg would never be pregnant."

I guess abstinence education, which Palin supports, doesn't really work. SHOCKER.

Anyway, I guess the idea is partly to pick up suburban women voters, including those who wanted Hillary and are still pissed that she lost. Understandable strategy, but I'm not 100% sure that it's going to work, especially when those women find out that Palin is staunchly pro-life and pro-everything-else-Republican.

Like all right-thinking people, I turn to Lohan for a refreshing, direct perspective on today's news. What's your take, Lindsay?

"I think the real problem comes from the fact that we are taking the focus off of getting to know Sarah Palin and her political views, and what she can do to make our country a less destructive place. Its distracting from the real issues, the real everyday problems that this country experiences."

"I get Sarah Palin's views against abortion, but I would much prefer to hear more about what she can do for our country rather than how her daughter is going to have a child no matter what. Maybe focus on delivering some words and policy with stronger impact like Joe Biden."

Well-put, Linds. Well-put.

What with the Labor Day weekend and all, Sunday night was actually an Administrative Saturday, so Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and I hied ourselves down to Beretta for dinner, after receiving a fairly glowing recommendation from Stephen & Jessica. We got there around 6 and were immediately seated, but the place filled up quickly after that and it looks like you'll be waiting a while if you get there at normal dinner time. They don't take reservations.

Started with cocktails. I had the Dolores Park Swizzle (rum, lime, maraschino, absinthe, bitters) and SHIG had an Airmail (rum, honey, lime, prosecco). I think I liked mine more. To eat, I got a pizza with Italian sausage, panna, and spring onions and SHIG had the saffron risotto with osso buco. Both were good.

I only have one little complaint, and it's pretty much the exact same complaint S&J had. The cocktails took forever to come, and we had barely started them before the food came. I think of cocktails as a pre-dinner thing, and I had already ordered a glass of wine to have with dinner, so the timing was a little off. Like I said, small complaint, but still.