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toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

180 followers 270 following 350 posts

Equal parts iced tea, wine, books, Queer Capricorn sarcasm & existential dread all wrapped up in the San Francisco fog. #RelentlesslyGay 🏳️‍🌈 #GenX #toddenfreude

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toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

I’m sorry but Brock Purdy isn’t Buster Posey?! WTH?!

August 15, 2025 at 6:51 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

For all the KIS Cafe survivors out there.

July 26, 2025 at 1:35 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

May 11, 2025 at 2:16 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

Good enough?

May 8, 2025 at 5:11 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

What is this in the western sky?

May 7, 2025 at 2:48 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

Can someone inform the bars and restaurants that store their wine on the bar about this red wine fact?

www.sfchronicle.com/food/wine/ar...

Highlighted text from SF Chronicle article: “and all reds should ideally be served at least a little below room temperature.”

April 25, 2025 at 3:27 PM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

This seems important for Republicans to consider.

Graphic showing the growth in the number of counties in the U.S. receiving federal assistance: In 2000 there were only 317 counties in the country where 25 percent or more of the residents’ income came from government assistance — primarily in Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security payments. By 2020, that number had ballooned to 1,986 counties. What is particularly dangerous for Mr. Trump is that almost 80 percent of these counties supported Republicans in previous elections.

April 21, 2025 at 7:24 PM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

I finally achieved my 1000-day streak on Duolingo. Now I can rest, right?

April 19, 2025 at 12:39 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

The placement of these articles perfectly demonstrates why people, companies, and institutions need to resist the Trump administration.

Image of two headlines from the New York Times. First headline reads "Law Firms Made Deals With Trump. Now He Wants More From Them." and the second headline reads "Why Harvard Decided to Fight the Trump Administration."

April 16, 2025 at 5:04 PM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

I’m in favor of fusion restaurants, but the espresso margarita I had last night was an abomination.

April 16, 2025 at 3:28 PM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

👀

April 10, 2025 at 4:21 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

Holy hell, is this what 52 looks like in Pittsburgh?! #ThePitt

April 10, 2025 at 4:08 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

San Francisco Bay Area real estate is back, baby!! 😉

April 10, 2025 at 2:01 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

I was playing around with Gemini AI today & wanted to see what it would do with #poetry. So, I fed it one of my favorites by Mark Doty called "Visitation." Then, after some failed attempts, I got Gemini to write in free verse and offer a response to the poem from the whale's point of view.

Visitation by Mark Doty

When I heard he had entered the harbor,
and circled the wharf for days,
I expected the worst: shallow water,

confusion, some accident to bring
the young humpback to grief.
Don't they depend on a compass

lodged in the salt-flooded folds
of the brain, some delicate
musical mechanism to navigate

their true course? How many ways,
in our century's late iron hours,
might we have led him to disaster?

That, in those days, was how
I'd come to see the world:
dark upon dark, any sense

of spirit an embattled flame
sparked against wind-driven rain
till pain snuffed it out. I thought,

This is what experience gives us,
and I moved carefully through my life
while I waited. . . Enough,

it wasn't that way at all. The whale
—exuberant, proud maybe, playful,
like the early music of Beethoven—

cruised the footings for smelts
clustered near the pylons
in mercury flocks. He

(do I have the gender right?)
would negotiate the rusty hulls
of the Portuguese fishing boats

—Holy Infant, Little Marie—
with what could only be read
as pleasure, coming close

then diving, trailing on the surface
big spreading circles
until he'd breach, thrilling us

with the release of pressured breath,
and the bulk of his sleek young head

—a wet black leather sofa

already barnacled with ghostly lice—
and his elegant and unlikely mouth,
and the marvelous afterthought of the flukes,

and the way his broad flippers
resembled a pair of clownish gloves
or puppet hands, looming greenish white

beneath the bay's clouded sheen.
When he had consumed his pleasure
of the shimmering swarm, his pleasure, perhaps,

in his own admired performance,
he swam out the harbor mouth,
into the Atlantic. And though grief

has seemed to me itself a dim,
salt suspension in which I've moved,
blind thing, day by day,

through the wreckage, barely aware
of what I stumbled toward, even I
couldn't help but look

at the way this immense figure
graces the dark medium,
and shines so: heaviness

which is no burden to itself.
What did you think, that joy
was some slight thing?

The Visitor by Gemini AI

The hard-edged water,
a strange, still place,
circled the blunt shapes for days,
I expected the worst: shallow confusion,

some sharp, unseen thing to bring
these soft-skinned ones to grief.
Don't they depend on the surface

for breath, some fragile
inner rhythm to navigate
their hurried, small course? How many ways,
in their loud, clanging world,
might they lead themselves to disaster?

That, in those days, was how
I'd come to sense their kind:
flickering, quick movements, any sense

of stillness a fragile moment
caught against their own restless surge
till worry snuffed it out. I thought,

This is what their brief time gives them,
and I moved with caution through their strange space
while I watched... Enough,

it wasn't that way at all. The watchers—
still, curious maybe, quiet,
like the low hum of the deep ocean floor—

clustered near the edges,
their faces turned towards me
in silent, dark flocks. I

(do I have the feeling right?)
would glide past the rough skins
of the tall, floating islands—

Silent Giants, Little Movers—
with what could only be sensed
as wonder, coming close

then diving, leaving on the surface
small spreading ripples
until I would breach, thrilling them

with the release of deep-held breath,

and the bulk of my smooth, dark head
—a wet, ancient stone rising briefly—
and my long, knowing gaze,
and the marvelous echo of my tail,

and the way my wide flippers
resembled slow-moving shadows
or gentle fins, looming pale white

beneath the bay's clouded light.
When I had consumed my pleasure
of the still, watching forms, my pleasure, perhaps,

in their quiet, observed performance,
I swam out the harbor mouth,
into the vast ocean. And though their world

has seemed to me itself a thin,
bright film on which they briefly move,
fragile things, day by day,

through their own making, barely aware
of the deep currents I travel, even I
couldn't help but sense

the way this small gathering
graced the strange stillness,
and shone so: quietness

which seemed no burden to itself.
What did they think, that wonder
was some loud, fleeting thing?

April 7, 2025 at 11:25 PM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof”

March 31, 2025 at 2:43 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

Here’s an image from the Compton Cafeteria riot in SF in the Studio Ghibli style. (Original included) #LGBTQ

March 27, 2025 at 6:47 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

And another.

March 27, 2025 at 6:32 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

The new image generator for ChatGPT is cool. Here’s the Studio Ghibli version of the Stonewall riot.

March 27, 2025 at 6:21 AM

toddx

@toddx.bsky.social

I asked AI to imagine daylight saving time as a person. It suggested: a quirky, slightly disheveled character—always meddling with clocks and calendars, with wild, tousled hair, a mismatched outfit, eyes wide and restless. A mischievous grin would complete the look.