this must be the place.

I'm home, drinking a Cotes du Rhone wine, waiting for him to pick up some Thai dinner and we're going to re-watch Milk, despite the fact that I have to work at 6:30 in the morning. I've been thinking about home a lot, in relation to my life, in relation to how other people interpret their sense of home, and I'm faced with all sorts of versions. I struggled to define what mine was once I left California. "Well, if home is where the heart is, then my home is San Francisco." Easy. Done. But, the more time passes, the less I feel that specific sentiment. I've been away from and come back to Portland several times now and the more I'm away, the better it feels to come home. the more like home it becomes. Maybe I can chalk it up to being spring, and beautiful, and out of control green, or the amazing person I get to come home to, but, this place has never felt more... mine. We're about to watch this movie(again), and i watched some of the extras this morning. This story is about so much more than Harvey Milk. The story is about a time, an energy, and also, about a place. This movie is,obviously, steeped in San Francisco. In the background of an interview with Sean Penn, I see Cafe Trieste, a place that makes my heart melt a little at the thought of. I see directors, actors, and local SF extras standing in front of city hall, the Castro theater and I realized, watching these mini-documentary extras, wiping tears away and wanting to simultaneously hug Sean Penn and Gus Van Zant and Lance Black, that while San Francisco holds a place in my heart

 [David Byrne sang], "Home is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there."