Neptune Landing

PLACE Facebook was all abuzz earlier last month with a geography/personality test launched by TIME Magazine. You answer a few questions about your philosophy and lifestyle and their website spits out the name of the appropriate state that fits YOU. Although the logarithm is a bit faulty (e.g. Why does this rag suggest I spend my yankee days and nights in Georgia?), the idea is quite fascinating. Blue Heron at McLaren Park Reservoir Certain personalities gravitate to certain places. Economist Richard Florida in his new-urbanism, wonkish book " Who's Your City ?" explains that one of the most undervalued decisions we make in our lives is the choice of where to live. Think about it: countless books and websites are devoted to vocation and life partner but very little devoted to setting. Consider that we breathe, eat and sleep in our chosen ponds 24 hours a day whereas we only spend 6 to 10 hours a day on the job and a typical 12 hours a day hanging with the sweethea...

       Last weekend I met a friend for a drink at Harvey's in the Castro. Visiting from Boston, Derrick had mentioned a Radical Faeries get-together he was planning on attending later that evening. The Faeries have always fascinated me; I feel a kinship even though I don't know a lick about applying makeup or conspicuous dress. How sorely I had been mistaken in my stereotypes.        The Faeries are a circle of chill, smart, laid-back gay men who identify with hippie culture. The house party I attended was warm, small and quiet. People were carving pumpkins in the dining room and cooking pizzas in the kitchen.        Jim, our host, lives in a house called "P-Town West" and put together a video montage of the Peanuts Gang Halloween Special along with a few clips and videos of Lou Reed (who had died earlier that day). It was such a lovely introduction to Faerie culture in which I met a few great men and even one woman, ...

    For a practice that includes some silly paraphernalia (here's looking at you stretch pants, foam blocks and carry-around mats), yoga is a serious business in Fog City. Citizens devote as much energy and time to yoga as they do to their dietary needs and Halloween. Turn your head and you'll spot a space to stretch. Boston may celebrate a high  Dunkin' Donuts  density but a casual glance on google maps provides 796(!) places to get a yoga fix within the 7 mile by 7 mile county of San Francisco. So if there's so much supply and so much demand, why do I constantly feel like the only kid who forgot to do his homework? Did everyone move here as a previous yogi?     I'll admit it - I'm a dabbler by nature. With ten plus years of casual yoga behind me, however, I feel confident enough to hold about a dozen poses on my living room yoga mat (and to know them well by name). Never had I considered yoga competitive until I moved to San Francisco. More worr...

Any self-respecting, progressive San Franciscan gets a delivery of a CSA box or at least has a good story about one. CSA stands for Community-Supported-Agriculture. Basically, you go online to find a local farm that provides CSA shipments, read the farm's reviews on yelp, sign up with them and every Thursday they deliver a 10 lb. box of fresh, locally grown fruits and veggies to your apartment lobby. It's important to note that you are not a customer but an investor so you must return the shiny cardboard box from the previous week. They also give you a method for composting your egg shells and egg cartons. From the first week I'll be honest though; the first few weeks of delivery, my palms were sweating about using all the vegetables in a timely manner. On top of the spoiling possibility, you are also faced with using exotic items that confuse any white, mama's boy. Parsley, cabbage, braising mix and various types of squashes made my anxiety list. Fear not. Turn t...

     Even though I'm a nature boy, I love the idea of cities as being these stews of tradition, innovation, ethnic heritage/composition, geography and industry. Mix it all up and you get something unique each time. There are however sister cities or metros that seek to learn from one another. Sister cities are more than just cutesy titles. San Francisco, California and Cork, Ireland, for instance, employ a real practice of exchanging business, cultural, technical and educational knowledge over the long-term.   The Rebel Cork Benevolent Association , a group of native Corkers laid the groundwork for a sister city partnership when they started meeting in 1883 to exchange ideas among themselves in this strange city on the western edge of the U.S. The RCBA was also a vehicle of families helping each other in times of need. More and more Corker pilgrims made the westward journey and soon enough an official relationship seemed a foregone conclusion. The sisterhood was offi...

        Not to be confused with a daytrip to Hades, the lower world journey is an essential component of coming to know your power animals and inner teachers in shamanic practice. The Lower World Journey has wormed its way into literary culture, most famously with Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland," when Alice falls down the rabbit hole and embarks on a great adventure. There is one thing that Carroll misrepresented; the characters she encountered were more middle world spirits (with personalities and intents ranging from neutral to hostile) rather than loving lower world spirits. The spirits in the lower world are magnanimous; they do not wish you any harm and are there to help. Drugs, too, are not necessary for a trip to the lower world (and can actually be a hindrance). There are, however, six essential steps to make this a fruitful journey.         1. Soundtrack. No, not Beyonce or even Beethoven, but rather a CD or MP3 of sha...

        Formerly known as Eureka Valley, the Castro district is one of the larger neighborhoods in the central city and increasingly one of its most well-heeled. In the 19th century, The Castro and nearby Duboce Triangle were known as Little Scandinavia before being taken over by the Irish in the 1930's. In the 1970's, the gays started moving in, most notably, Harvey Milk, a camera store owner who later went on to become the city's most famous district supervisor. The Castro has some lovely hills, homes and bougainvillea bushes as well as several clothing stores, cafes, bars and a few decent restaurants. The F Line trolley ends here, giving the neighborhood a certain 'over the rainbow' feel.                      If anything, the Castro proves that this town can still throw a damn good party! Twice, recently, revelers descended on Castro Street to throw a political extravaganza; once on Wednesday evening...