Here’s a nice piece found at the S.F. Farmer’s Market. If you look closely you’ll notice they painted over an old menu that was done with stick-on letters. That’s a touch of authenticity an artist couldn’t capture. Note too the letter “T” is always capitalized. Hmmm….
Since the topic of the farmer’s market has been broached, let’s take a look around. In-flight and automobile club magazines and any other magazine that “takes a look” at fun things to do in a city will always go to the Farmer’s Market and get some local color. Like this kid:
Totally stoned as he lords over the produce, what the photo doesn’t reveal is this fresh air market is nearly underneath the intersections of Highway 101 and 280. There are tribute pieces graffitied on a cement retaining wall behind him. A notorious housing project further up the hillside. And this young field hand just wants to sit up on Dad’s new orchard mower and think about his girlfriend, but no, he has to come to the city and deal with stupid idiots all day.
That part of the story isn’t in your monthly Triple A magazine. Neither is this next photo, where I looked for phallic references in the vegetables. (Not particularly hard) ((No pun intended))
These travel articles are so predictable. How many times do you think the baker below has had to put on the rectal exam gloves and hold that loaf up? The thing is bigger than his torso. It looks like it’s fresh out of an elephants ass. But he’s trying to make a living and some asshole, (me) wants a picture of the giant loaf of bread. Let’s do it again.
So there it is. 100 Alemany Street in San Francisco, if you want to check it out. I’d rather be at a weapons market in Afghanistan handling shoulder mount rocket launchers, but it’s not that kind of city here. I’m trying to make the best of it.