Cantara’s (Social) Notebook

We watched the pilot of Glee last night. Michael walked out of the room, but I loved it. My first boyfriend got me to love Bob Dylan. Michael taught me to love classic rock. I always loved show tunes on my own. Here’s the anthem of my generation , “Don’t Stop Believing”, which I’m proud to claim sprang from the great classic rock tradition of San Francisco, the City That Is No More. Oh baby, you don’t know what it was like here in the 70s. It was INCREDIBLE. I’ll tell you all about it later. I'm going to get damned elegaic about it.

It was an acquaintance, the film and stage director Mirra Bank, who turned me on to Vimeo, which I like a lot better than YouTube. You get a nicer profile page, you can make it part or all private if you prefer, and if you have any digital footage (terrible word footage, like saying dialing for phone, what word do people use now?) you can try them out here. Mirra uploaded material on Vimeo to raise interest in one of her documentaries. Me, I’m just seeing how much I can do with my little pink Flip camera, and it’s turning out to be more than expected. My friend, underground comix-maven-turned-“herstorian” Trina Robbins—whose upcoming book, Forbidden City: The Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs is excerpted in Cantaraville —was so happy with the clips I managed to get, impromptu, of the subjects of her new book, she let me know that she wants to show them at her book party at the San Francisco Historical Society, they were that good. Well, we’ll see. Of course you can’t do much edi...