In Which We Check Up on the Morning Light


I went to bed at 6:00 a.m. like I always do and then lay there and lay there and lay there waiting for sleep to obliterate me, but no. After an hour of checking to see if the other side was sleepier than the side I was on (spoiler alert: it wasn’t), I realized my beloved cafe, Peet’s, was open so I trotted down there to see what they had to say.

And let me tell you, the early morning has not improved any since the last time I saw it. It’s still sort of streaky and rumpled and all the homeless guys are surly because they’ve been outside all night and now they have to stay out some more. I cannot blame them.

Also, there’s too many kids around. I live in a gay neighborhood, why do I have to put up with all these unripened post-embryos? I know I may seem much too sour about kids, but I just don’t think they add much to the landscape.

Plus since we’re in San Francisco, the parents of all these precious bundles insist on cranking the pretentiousness dial all the way up to 11. A dad and his daughter on matching scooters almost ran me down. I was looking around for a rock to throw at them, but they got away before I was sufficiently armed. What this city needs is some good cobblestones lying around.

I see these rats in their carefully curated tiny yoga wear, or whatever it is, and I know their names are all Willa, or Atticus, or Octavia, or, I don’t know, Chlorine. Nobody here names their kids Steve or Mike. Unless they’re girls.

Fine. I don’t care, get out of my way, get off my lawn, ask your nanny what’s the Spanish for “fuck off you little worms.” I really need to adhere more closely to my policy of not going outside before noon.

Grown up men:

But not too grown-up

The calm of meditation is good for all of us. Especially if the thought of braining some guy with a rock has captured your imagination.

Truth in advertising.

Because I’m a sucker for pretty eyes.

I’m also very fond of big, meaty asses. Which I prefer to pronounce “AHS-es.”

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

10 responses »

  1. Kids have returned to my neighborhood as well. This year they’re actually preteens around. It’s been 15 years since the group has been represented. Usually we get people who have their first kid here then move out when it’s old enough to go to public school for better schools. I wonder how long the preteens are going to be around.

    When I was a kid I used to feel sorry for people who didn’t have kids. At age 73 I feel sorry for people who have kids.


  2. Forget the children – bring on the men! Oh, yes. You have. Yummy!


    PS I’m a night owl too, but it would have to be a very special occasion (such as a house party) for me to turn in at 6am!


    • I have not. I remember the whole Lewinsky shit show already. But I have been watching Y:The Last Man on FX and love it, but they canceled it before the first season was over. Bastards.


  3. I now have a vague, cloudy memory of someone on a TV show talking about how Chlorine is a nice girls name. I wish I could remember which show it was, but I can only think of Pushing Daisies (that ep in which Olive Snook takes a box of chlorine tablets to Aunts Lily & Vivien in the hopes of getting them back in the pool). Maybe it was Pushing Daisies? Any excuse for a rewatch!

    Anyway, yes, grown up men and their arses!


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