Great Blog Post on Chronicle

I loved this. Who gives an F if Andre Agassi did some Crystal Meth or if half the successful older guys that I know have been sober for years because they went off the chain with blow in the 80's, or have been married three times, or were miserable as kids. It's a long and nuts road, no one feels good all the time, does good all the time. Keep on keeping on my friends.

"So for some unknowable reason I'm watching Andre Agassi tell Katie Couric on "60 Minutes" about the time he did crystal meth for a short period of months something like 13 years ago, back when he was hating the living hell out of tennis and his ruthless tennis Nazi of a father and his own unfelt, unwanted, completely unconscious superstar tennis life, and gosh, are we not all just a little bit shocked?

Well, not really. Aside from the deeply surreal hit of "Wait, wait, wait, am I really sitting here watching the mulleted multimillionaire, 'Image is everything' spokesdude of yore tell the tiny, chirpy 'Today' show chick that he snorted some illegal who-the-hell-cares for a few months back in the '90s while wearing a hair weave, and what a strange world this is" -- besides all that, I could not help but find myself asking, aloud, right to the TV screen, right to Andre's somber and very, very round face, "Why the hell aren't you laughing?"

"Can you believe this crazy life, Katie? I did meth! I had a frosted hair weave! I married Brooke Shields! I made 100 million dollars! I was miserable for many years, but now I'm not! Life is absurd! What a ride it's been! It's all so crazy and divine and joyful, I can't even begin to tell you. Ha ha! Who wants wine?"

Of course, he didn't say any of that. Not even close. It was all so serious, Agassi terribly solemn about his "dark" period of low-down meth-snortin', Couric all prim, pseudo-naive: "Gosh-golly Andre, just how frequently did you snort crystal for less than a year way back when no one really gave a crap anyway?

"And weren't you ashamed? And do you regret admitting it in your new book? And, by the way, I hear meth is a kooky mindf--k of a drug and that having sex on it is completely awesome, and I bet you can tell by looking at me I've never sucked down anything stronger than a wine spritzer and maybe a pot brownie back in college, and OK maybe some blow in the restroom of CBGB with Matt Lauer back in '94, but just once -- OK maybe 30 or 40 times, but that's it."

It was all just terribly awkward to watch, joyless and strange. Agassi merely talked about how this brief drug experimentation came during a period when he wasn't really caring about much of anything -- career, money, health, pre-minivan Brooke Shields, the works. Why not try some stupid drug? Why not dabble and downwardly spiral? Hey, it's the American way.

But it didn't last long. Agassi climbed out of his little pothole within a few months and moved on, and within 18 months he was world champ again. So it's not like he was confessing to any sort of wild, out-of-control, street-urchin addiction. There was no abuse, no secret murder, no sodomy with a farm animal or attempted suicide by huffing oil fumes from a tennis ball machine. Was there one deliciously sordid tale of scoring some midget hookers and a pound of blow with John McEnroe during a lost weekend in Paris after the '96 French Open? Nope.

It got stupider. Couric went on to mention how Martina Navratilova and even Rafael Nadal have said some nasty words about Andre after his meth confession, which is all flavors of nauseating hypocrisy, as if every pro on the circuit isn't full of secrets, as if anyone besides a few five-year-olds still harbor the illusion that pro sports -- all of them -- aren't packed like cans of bad tuna with all manner of human foibles: nightmare parents, abusive childhoods, brain damage by age 20, enough drugs and enhancers, booze and painkillers to make a few snorts of crystal meth seem like baby aspirin. And, of course, no one's liked Martina Navratilova since about 1971.

But no, there will be no such talk, not on "60 Minutes" anyway. We must brood and ponder. We must frown whenever illegal drugs are mentioned because They Are Wrong. We must feign disgust and moral outrage, even as we beg for sordid details and pretend to be shocked at the revelations that our heroes have issues and turmoil and crappy marriages, that they might be just as messed up, just as fearful, just as entranced and confused by the fire and the bliss, the pain and the dark underbelly of this life as everyone else.

Why isn't he laughing? I kept thinking it, over and over, as I watched Agassi's face move from pain to tears to a wan smile. Why isn't this guy sitting there with a giant grin and an easy chuckle, saying, "Oh my God, Katie, can you freakin' believe it? I made it to here! What a ride it's been! My dad was a total jackass, my childhood was nonexistent, my Bon Jovi hair was totally fake, and, by the way, let me happily pop everyone's precious tennis bubble and tell you flat-out that tennis pros are just as -- if not far, far more -- messed up than anyone else. Dear God, have you seen the Williams sisters lately? Tick tick, you know?

"And the meth? Big deal. It was fun for a while. Then it wasn't. It was stupid, but it also served a purpose to get me through to here. All part of the path, Katie. Meth ain't so bad. It's just a thing. It's just energy. Not a very good energy, but just energy. Not much different than sex, money, celebrity, God. Just energy. It all depends on how you use it, or are used by it, you know? It's all about how you tap into that divine source, the thrust and the battle and the various epiphanies that help get you there.

"Oh, and by the way, Katie? Meth sex is mindblowing. Turn off the camera, and I'll tell you all about it."

And then Katie would be laughing, too, and blushing, and nodding, because she knows. She would be right there alongside him saying, "Wow, no s--t Andre? Meth did that for you? Was it fun? You ever do any with Brooke Shields? Did she get freaky? This life is amazing, isn't it? A cosmic circus sideshow of agony and joy and complaining about your parents? I am so right there with you. Let me tell you about news people sometime. I mean, oh my God! Turn off the camera. Let's go get some wine.""

Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2009/11/11/notes111109.DTL#ixzz0WZaKxULv

El Castillito = Super Good

There are at least 10 El Castallito's in San Francisco. I don't know if there is a connection between some or all of them but this one serves up one of the best burritos in San Francisco consistently.

It is super big, reasonably priced, they grill the shiz out of the tortilla, the meat is heated up for each burrito, avocado instead of guacamole at request, all sorts of salsa. It's pretty much the bomb. It also doesn't sit all that badly considering it's a 1000 calorie food injection. And, you can park in the Safeway Castro parking lot with no worries.

If you are debating the best way to get there directly from Pac Heights take the Fillmore straight down........Thanks Eli. I was set on arriving directly at el Castillito and not hitting market at all. After multiple loops in the Western Addition I failed and popped out on the East side of the Safeway. Eli was convinced Fillmore was the street but I didn't believe him, thought it would put us to far West. He was right. Fillmore is the ticket. (Get in front of the damn ball Dorn, don't give me this ole bullshit....there, that's the ticket).

Oh, and the massive slice of German Chocolate Lara Cake at Safeway for $1.50 is pretty much as good as the $6 piece at Plant. Word.

http://www.yelp.com/biz/el-castillito-san-francisco-2