1. Nettle: So, when I am an old hip auntie telling stories of my 20's, the past four to six months of my life will be known as "Seasons of Sick: Epic Tales of Allergies (and other various illnesses)". After spending the entire spring and most of this summer battling the virus that just wouldn't die, I decided I just couldn't take it anymore. I was so sick of being sick that I thought I might have to move to some far-away, toxin free oasis, where I would live like Julianne Moore in that movie "Safe".
During a rehearsal I laid there on the floor...in my bronchitis, rhinoviral ridden state...ready to give up...and surrender to the reality that I am just not meant to be well...ever again. It was then that my friend Ana (now known as: my amazing healer-friend Ana) dropped a bag of this dried green herb in my lap and informed me with confidence that it would rock my world. Skeptical that the mystery substance (of which I was secretly hoping was just mercy pot) would be powerless over my immune system (er...lack there of)...but delirious and still desperately holding on to the daydream of wellness...I gave the shit a shot. I mean, what the hell? I was willing to try anything at this point.
Sure enough, this weed: responsible for the many painful rashes of my youth, worked it's magic and is now my morning ritual. Before the coffee, yoga, or even the candy I like to eat for breakfast, I brew some nettle tea. Being the low maintenance woman that I am, I use the handy pre-packaged tea bags (bulk, for all those resourceful people out there, is available at Rainbow). Even though it tastes like grass and kind of smells like manure, it's changed my fucking life. Please stop the madness and go get some NOW. Not only for your benefit--but also for the benefit of those around you...who are constantly infected with your monster viruses.
2. Lustre: It's official: The 2nd and last Wednesday of every month, our good friend Marcus (a well-loved barkeep at my former favorite misfit hangout-Amber) hosts the tunes for this sceney event at the Transfer on Church and Market (think 80's goth-glam rock meets new wave). The fun starts around 10pmish and continues until bar close. I know, just what SF needs...a new dance party inspired by an era of fabulous drugs and unfortunate dress codes. It has promise, but needs some serious dancers to pack the floor and throw it down. It also needs some serious bass, but I've already put the request in. So put on your red lipstick, your black fishnets, throw some bangs in your face, and meet me for a martini already.
3. Thieves Tavern (former Hush Hush): My new favorite bar on 14th and Guerrero (yea I tend to stick to the same 6 block radius). It's a dive to enter...I've actually seen people duck to get through the door. Sound system is decent (bass-but I would love another speaker), two pool tables for those who care to (um...I don't play pool so no side comment here) and the shiniest bar I've seen in...probably ever. The bartenders: friendly but just abusive enough to keep me coming back. Drinks are cheap, especially on "ladies night"...which also scandalously falls on "my Friday". The art sucks, the jukebox doesn't, and sometimes I can get a bloody mary. Just a warning: a couple months ago I met I guy I'm pretty sure was a serial killer. He claims to be a regular but I haven't seen him since (creepy). Other than him this place is great.
4. Halou: I've repeated the name of this band to people so many times in clarification-that I'm beginning to wonder if I didn't make this group up. So, to confirm their existence-I saw them perform at Cafe Du Nord recently-and to my relief (whew) they are not a figment of my imagination and they kick just as much live as they do on my boom box (yea...I typed boom box and I meant it). Halou is down-tempo electro rock. Backed by a sweet bass and lead by a sexy red-headed voice that sounds like the freakish lovechild of Bjork and Portisehead. Totally hot and beyond worth the ten bucks I spent on a personally autographed CD for um...my boom box.
5. Shiva: As a kid, I used to sneak into my brother's room, read his comics, and get lost in pages of heroes and super-villains. When he would catch me I'd persuade him to barter, and I'd offer up my Barbie collection in exchange. He would immediately turn down my lame girl toys in one repulsed gesture, yell at me for invading his space, and then let me stay and build things out of Legos. Legos were an intense item for this "cool toy" deprived girl. To me: they were power. I would spend all this time building an elaborate city out of the bold colored plastic blocks, just to smash it to pieces, and start over with some new exciting dream kingdom.
This is how I understand Shiva to work (the main topic of my most recent yoga classes): creating to destroy...destroying to create...and all the endless options in between. It's the ultimate thrill really...taking a wrecking ball to your life just to see how you come out of the rubble. Damn, I think I just heard the faint and distant sound of Saturn returning...
6. Summer Finale: Um...hotties, booze, fun and sun to culminate two seasons spent sick indoors with tea?? Please refer back to 1, 5, 7, and 9. There's no need to explain myself here.
7. Acupuncture: During the course of my immune system meltdown, I decided I needed more than just vitamins and sleep, I needed an exorcism. Tired of entering my sick days into our database, my co-worker from the finance department passed me on to her witch-doctor (er...TCM Practitioner) by the name of Shamsi. She took one look at my tongue, felt my pulses (apparently...we have more than one??) and proceeded to put me through 2 months of rigorous needle treatments backed by heavy doses of ridiculously potent herbal supplements. Not that wimpy health store shit mind you, but serious hard core Chinese potions that actually had me so fucking high at one point, I thought I was invincible. It has taken some damn serious dedication to give up (er..cut back) on my five favorite food groups: coffee, chocolate, booze, sex, and smokes, but this healer was able to remove most of my demons. Now, I see her once or twice a month. I'm a lot less cooler than I used to be, but I'm also a lot less sick.
8. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: Probably the most beautiful film I've seen in a good minute. It changed my fucking world. Just go rent it.
9. Not Smoking: So, I've been considering my year in random immunity complications, blowing it off as too much stress/alcohol, and not enough sleep/nutrients...I can no longer deny the role that smoking plays in the ever dramatic saga of my health. Now, to be totally clear, I don't have smokers guilt--I love smoking--I think it's fucking great. Tastes great, feels great, and I would never dare waste a cigarette crying about how it's "bad" for me. Cause, let's face it, EVERYTHING is bad for you these days. Every time I turn around there's something else that's gonna kill me. If it's not cancer it's a gun or meth or an earthquake. However, it occurred to me that I could possibly enhance the satisfaction of my smoking experience--if I experienced it less. This cutting back, or "pro-longed foreplay" as I'm referring to it, will also hopefully benefit my poor pathetic excuse of an immune system by giving it a fucking break.
10. Blogging: To back up my opening line? The opportunity to develop my extremely amateur writing abilities, for free, along with all the other hip trendy yupster wannabe "writers" in the world is just too good to pass up. Ah, to be young, cool, and self-absorbed in SF.
2. Lustre: It's official: The 2nd and last Wednesday of every month, our good friend Marcus (a well-loved barkeep at my former favorite misfit hangout-Amber) hosts the tunes for this sceney event at the Transfer on Church and Market (think 80's goth-glam rock meets new wave). The fun starts around 10pmish and continues until bar close. I know, just what SF needs...a new dance party inspired by an era of fabulous drugs and unfortunate dress codes. It has promise, but needs some serious dancers to pack the floor and throw it down. It also needs some serious bass, but I've already put the request in. So put on your red lipstick, your black fishnets, throw some bangs in your face, and meet me for a martini already.
3. Thieves Tavern (former Hush Hush): My new favorite bar on 14th and Guerrero (yea I tend to stick to the same 6 block radius). It's a dive to enter...I've actually seen people duck to get through the door. Sound system is decent (bass-but I would love another speaker), two pool tables for those who care to (um...I don't play pool so no side comment here) and the shiniest bar I've seen in...probably ever. The bartenders: friendly but just abusive enough to keep me coming back. Drinks are cheap, especially on "ladies night"...which also scandalously falls on "my Friday". The art sucks, the jukebox doesn't, and sometimes I can get a bloody mary. Just a warning: a couple months ago I met I guy I'm pretty sure was a serial killer. He claims to be a regular but I haven't seen him since (creepy). Other than him this place is great.
4. Halou: I've repeated the name of this band to people so many times in clarification-that I'm beginning to wonder if I didn't make this group up. So, to confirm their existence-I saw them perform at Cafe Du Nord recently-and to my relief (whew) they are not a figment of my imagination and they kick just as much live as they do on my boom box (yea...I typed boom box and I meant it). Halou is down-tempo electro rock. Backed by a sweet bass and lead by a sexy red-headed voice that sounds like the freakish lovechild of Bjork and Portisehead. Totally hot and beyond worth the ten bucks I spent on a personally autographed CD for um...my boom box.
5. Shiva: As a kid, I used to sneak into my brother's room, read his comics, and get lost in pages of heroes and super-villains. When he would catch me I'd persuade him to barter, and I'd offer up my Barbie collection in exchange. He would immediately turn down my lame girl toys in one repulsed gesture, yell at me for invading his space, and then let me stay and build things out of Legos. Legos were an intense item for this "cool toy" deprived girl. To me: they were power. I would spend all this time building an elaborate city out of the bold colored plastic blocks, just to smash it to pieces, and start over with some new exciting dream kingdom.
This is how I understand Shiva to work (the main topic of my most recent yoga classes): creating to destroy...destroying to create...and all the endless options in between. It's the ultimate thrill really...taking a wrecking ball to your life just to see how you come out of the rubble. Damn, I think I just heard the faint and distant sound of Saturn returning...
6. Summer Finale: Um...hotties, booze, fun and sun to culminate two seasons spent sick indoors with tea?? Please refer back to 1, 5, 7, and 9. There's no need to explain myself here.
7. Acupuncture: During the course of my immune system meltdown, I decided I needed more than just vitamins and sleep, I needed an exorcism. Tired of entering my sick days into our database, my co-worker from the finance department passed me on to her witch-doctor (er...TCM Practitioner) by the name of Shamsi. She took one look at my tongue, felt my pulses (apparently...we have more than one??) and proceeded to put me through 2 months of rigorous needle treatments backed by heavy doses of ridiculously potent herbal supplements. Not that wimpy health store shit mind you, but serious hard core Chinese potions that actually had me so fucking high at one point, I thought I was invincible. It has taken some damn serious dedication to give up (er..cut back) on my five favorite food groups: coffee, chocolate, booze, sex, and smokes, but this healer was able to remove most of my demons. Now, I see her once or twice a month. I'm a lot less cooler than I used to be, but I'm also a lot less sick.
8. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: Probably the most beautiful film I've seen in a good minute. It changed my fucking world. Just go rent it.
9. Not Smoking: So, I've been considering my year in random immunity complications, blowing it off as too much stress/alcohol, and not enough sleep/nutrients...I can no longer deny the role that smoking plays in the ever dramatic saga of my health. Now, to be totally clear, I don't have smokers guilt--I love smoking--I think it's fucking great. Tastes great, feels great, and I would never dare waste a cigarette crying about how it's "bad" for me. Cause, let's face it, EVERYTHING is bad for you these days. Every time I turn around there's something else that's gonna kill me. If it's not cancer it's a gun or meth or an earthquake. However, it occurred to me that I could possibly enhance the satisfaction of my smoking experience--if I experienced it less. This cutting back, or "pro-longed foreplay" as I'm referring to it, will also hopefully benefit my poor pathetic excuse of an immune system by giving it a fucking break.
10. Blogging: To back up my opening line? The opportunity to develop my extremely amateur writing abilities, for free, along with all the other hip trendy yupster wannabe "writers" in the world is just too good to pass up. Ah, to be young, cool, and self-absorbed in SF.
