| created_at |
title |
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author |
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story_id |
story_title |
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_tags |
objectID |
year |
| 2012-09-27T16:26:26.000Z |
How the Internet ruined San Francisco (1999) |
http://www.salon.com/1999/10/28/internet_2/ |
mshafrir |
84 |
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129 |
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1348763186 |
| story |
| author_mshafrir |
| story_4581415 |
|
4581415 |
1999 |
My best friend who died of AIDS moved to San Francisco in 1976. It was
through his then-girlfriend that I met him back in Wisconsin, for he was
still living as straight. He moved to San Francisco in part because I
was around --- and in part, I now realize, because he needed to come
out, and San Francisco was where he knew he'd be able to do it. I
remember the day we were trying to decide which apartment on Russian
Hill he should pick -- the studio or the one-bedroom with the views of
Treasure Island and the Bay Bridge and the kitchen with the
black-and-white tiles, for the slightly more expensive price of $300 per
month. We had time to decide; I urged him to go for the beauty one. And
until he moved back to Madison to die there he remained, in the place
where he could sit in his director's chair and brood out the window for
hours, drink bad white wine and, when the spirit moved him, paint good
pictures and make room-enhancing sculptures. All supported through
groveling at tables less than 30 hours a week, which gave him the free
time to explore San Francisco --- which in his case meant both its art
worlds (he took me to the first performance piece where I saw people
wearing black) and its gay worlds (it was at a diner in the Haight where
over dinner he finally came out to me because he had finally toppled for
someone).