The Gayest Starbucks in the World

Ninth in an never-ending series of  memos to myself. Forgot to drink caffeine today. Spent the whole rest of the day twitching and blinking at everything — including empty fruit-tins. I sometimes wish I was British. It’s at these moments that my unborn daughters wish I was Australian, and my unborn sons wish I were Czech. I just spent a long time spell-checking a document, only to realize InDesign was using the Czech dictionary, which is why it wasn’t recognizing words like bought and document.

  • Today a friend emailed their friend who then emailed me, their friend, a link to a website called FRUIT MYSTERY. Visiting this website gave me perhaps my first or at least the strongest adult sense I’ve ever had of someone much younger than I, doing something I wanted to do when I was their age, but their being much more advanced, and more Australian, than I will ever be. FRUIT MYSTERY is the child that is father to Uncle Andy’s Giggle Shack, the ancient precursor to Good Jobbbbb (and unpreserved by the Wayback Machine, alas…)
  • Memo to myself: read Frank Stanford (thanks to “Anonymous Friend” for the tip!)
  • Before I forget: I want to write an essay about the Gayest Starbucks in the World, which is located near the corner of Castro and 18th St. here in San Francisco. I am interested in the way this supposedly homogenized (there are two puns in there — think of the Milk they use for the lattés! What???) chain store becomes completely… co-opted? appropriated? by gay culture. A friend recently told me that the baristas there even have their own lingo: she asked for a mocha with whipped cream, and the cashier shouted to the barista making her drink, “Spank it!” I might want to include a discussion of the TKEST (not sure of an superlative yet) MCDONALD’S IN THE WORLD, which is located at Stanyan and Haight St. Former locus of sixties counterculture, now a site for gutterpunks and their dogs, across from the site of a future Whole Foods. I don’t know. Memo to myself: don’t actually write this essay.
  • I’m also not going to write an essay rounding up different contemporary singers who all sound similar to me: Corey Dargel, Owen Pallett, another really good example I forgot
  • Stumbling upon this short/sweet Wyatt Mason post today synthesized six things I’d been thinking about all weekend:
    A. Rimbaud, R. Bolaño, learning Spanish, poetry, translation, relationships