Normally, when I sit down to write in the journal, it's because I have something to say; or at least a few things I want to ramble on about. Today, I don't have anything in mind, particularly. So I'll just wing it.

I just got back from my usual Saturday morning run along the Embarcadero. Finally, after about three weeks of unusually warm weather, the fog has returned, and it was blissfully cool. Still, there were throngs of people around, even though it was still only 9.00 a.m.

A few blocks along the Embarcadero, there was the usual Saturday farmer's market. It's about as far removed from your mind's eye's concept of a farmer's market as you can imagine: think of sausages with a lime-dill demi- glaze, and crocks of butter in fancy stone jars selling for $18.99. It looks, more than anything, like a yuppie pickup scene, with thirtysomethings sitting on the lawn by the stalls, wearing their tshirts, ballcaps, and sleeveless fleece jackets, and eating $5.00 hot dogs.

Futher along my running route, the Embarcadero bends round to the beginnings of Fisherman's Wharf, and here's where you start to see the tourists. There were already hundreds of people in the area. It really is a great little conspiracy San Francisco has going here. Persuade the tourists that Fisherman's Wharf is where it's all happening, and ... hey presto! Out of sight, out of mind, leaving the rest of the city for San Franciscans.

I pushed through the crowds, and past the street performers - the man in a white sheet with his hand held aloft looking very distantly like the Statue of Liberty, the inevitable silver-painted man pretending to be a robot, and the vagrant who hides behind some hand-held bushes only to suddenly fling them wide to give unsuspecting tourists the fright of their life.

As usual, I ran along the commercial fishing wharf, past the strong-smelling fishing gear, out into the bay, then back again. Depending on my energy level, I'll either turn back at that point, or continue on, running past the fisherman's chapel, and down to the little beach under the Maritime Museum, where there are usually some brave people swimming laps between the piers. This morning, it was tough going. It's been a very bad week with respect to my fatigue thinggy, and it was hard to run into the wind. So I compromised, and turned back shortly after I'd past Ghiradelli Square.

When I get home after a run, I'm always so relieved. That's one more run out of the way. Don't have to run again until Tuesday! I mean, I enjoy it, in a weird sort of way, particularly if the weather is fine. But it's hard work. And it's getting harder than ever to keep my waistline trim, at the age of thirty-six.

It's absurd, I know, but I have a bit of a complex about my stomach. It's never flat enough. I have a running joke with Brett about which of us is the fattest (Brett is 5'11", and weighs only 145, and this includes quite a lot of muscle mass! I'm 6'6" and weigh around 200, which isn't exactly what you'd call heavy!) But it shows the extent to which we're both sadly influenced by the prevailing pressures on gay men to remain trim and youthful. I'm not defending it. I'd be better off just relaxing and not worrying about it. And I'm aware that it doesn't say much for my self-esteem. But there you have it.

And speaking of body image, tomorrow is the enormous San Francisco gay pride parade, and there will be hundreds of thousands of men and women, many displaying as much flesh as they can legally get away with. I will have my camera with me, so hope to get some good pictures for you.

Just a quick report on some of the other movies I saw at the Film Festival this week. On Tuesday, I saw "The Adventures of Felix". a lovely, sweet, joyful movie following, well, the adventures of Felix as he hitch-hiked from Dieppe to Marseilles to find his long vanished Father. This one has already been released in New York, so, if you live in LA, SF or NY you'll get the chance to see it yourself. Don't think it will make it to Cleveland, and like places though :)

On Wednesday, I took a half-day off work to watch a double bill in the afternoon. The first was called "Love Equals ME Cubed". Although I really enjoyed this movie, don't look for it to be released, since it has appalling production values. The lighting was terrible, and, indeed, there was no mention of a lighting designer in the end credits. But it was a funny, honest story about a gorgeous Puerto Rican straight guy in a love triangle with two bisexual women.

The second movie on Wednesday, was the only one I've disliked so far (which says a lot for the quality of this year's Film Festival - in earlier years I've probably walked out of several movies). I couldn't watch it for more than half an hour. It was a Portugese movie called "Phantom". Unlike the earlier movie, it had high production values, but the story was sordid, and most of the events took place in near darkness. Every scene had either a dog barking, or a loud aircraft flying overhead. The lead actor was truly beautiful, but that wasn't enough to keep me in my seat once he started to strangle himself in the shower, while he jerked off wearing a pair of speedoes he'd found in someone else's trash can. I should have known better than to plan to see this one. I used to be very good at reading between the lines of the description of each movie in the festival program. I should have recognized what they meant by "a challenging journey to the dark heart of desire".

I did another double bill on Thursday afternoon; "Kali's Vibe", another bisexual love triangle, this time between young, middle-class African-Americans in New York City; and "Km 0", a romantic comedy of manners from Spain. Loved them both. The first, again, had poor production values - an out-of-focus camera, poor sound design - but it was a great story, with wonderful performances. The movie ended with one of the lesbians going off with the guy. Afterwards, in the Q&A session, it pissed me off to hear some of the hyper politically-correct lesbians in the audience challenge the female film-maker on why she ended the movie that way, or why she couldn't have the lead character "self-identify" as a bisexual. I even got up out of my chair to voice my support for the film-maker, but nobody could hear me way at the back of the cavernous cinema.

While watching the movies in such a large, beautiful old cinema, it made me realize how lucky we are here in San Francisco. Most other gay & lesbian film-festivals last less than a week, and take place in tiny cinemas. Here we have a landmark all to ourself, along with four other cinemas, for nine long days!

But you know what! It's completely insidious how film-makers creep up on you with their message about the centrality of romantic relationships to life. Here I was, quite happy in my conviction that I was over the need to have a boyfriend, and, after an afternoon saturated with celluloid love, I found myself thinking fondly about how nice it would be to meet "the right guy." You can't win.