I helped some friends clean out their storage locker today, I got all the scraps! God I love junk. Three shoe boxes of cassette tapes. Motely Crue, Cars, Depeche Mode, all kinds of stuff. I want to keep everything, but I couldn’t figure out why I should keep those cassettes. Then I found these four. Of course I should keep these. Self released mid 1990′s slice of American music. I’m sure they only exist on cassette. Never pressed in vinyl or released on CD. It was a time in the world where four tracks recorded on tape and it only cost 500 bucks to get 250 tapes from the master. (Don’t quote me on that price, I never actually got that far) This kind of junk is rare as hen’s teeth. And as desirable.
photo posted from my iPhone
Today we used a crane to bring ten foot palm trees onto the roof top garden of someones home. It was fun to be working.
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photo posted from my iPhone
Talk about sunning yourself. Hope he was using sunscreen for lube before he passed out. What a way to start the week.
photo posted from my iPhone
This is a painter’s van parked in front of a commercial space being remodeled in my neighborhood.
I found the thrift store.
photo posted from my iPhone`
Hauled a load up to Benicia and when I was through went looking for a thrift store. Came across this gem parked just outside the trailer park gates.
Doug came by this evening and we made a sheet metal case for his little banjo amp. Will and I decorated our amps last week, mine with fabric, his with grass weave wall paper. That leaves Collin, who’s coming by tomorrow. Maybe a wood case? And then the drums. What do we do with the drums? Upholstered? Or rubberize them? That won’t help the sound. Maybe lights inside each one. Touch sensitive like the ground Micheal Jackson walked on in that video for Billy Jean.
The recession hit. Rus doesn’t even have any work for me. That guys been around since before horses came to this continent. Yesterday I worked on my garden, painted the living room, and got back to the leather bedspread I started months ago. If I don’t get some work soon all this time on my hand is gonna turn me gay. I mean, I’m rearranging the house, sewing my clothes, organizing my linen. Things a tough guy isn’t supposed to care about. I’m about to do my taxes I’m so bored.
Then Ivan called. He is a stylist I met once. A super gay Mexican makeup artist. He lives in the Mission and so Glenn and I went by this afternoon to look at a project he wanted done. Building a simple closet for his clothes in a spare room. Glenn and I looked it over then retired to the bar to discuss. Looks like it’d be way cheaper for him to just buy a wardrobe.
So we can turn down work. Things aren’t rock bottom yet. But we’re standing on the sand that sifts all the way to bedrock. Just grind my heel down and I can feel the resistance of the end.
Thankfully it’s a beautiful day in San Francisco. And we aren’t working so we only pay happy hour prices at the bar. A guy even stopped at a red light and asked for my business card. He wants to demo a bathroom. There’s hope out there. However, in the interest of economy, I didn’t take a picture today. I figure uploading photos from my phone sucks a lot of battery, and recharging costs money. So please, in light of the new economy, just read today. Don’t look at any pictures. And get used to it.
Hether came over this evening and made this thing that I can’t even describe out of baby jeans and fake hair. Thankfully she has an iPhone and could take a picture of me wearing it and add a beard and sunglasses to my face and then throw some pubic hair on my head before she emailed me the photo. But that blond neck thing is not digitally manipulated. She sewed it together. No one knows why.
Papa Sean made me a vinyll sign for The Great White. “Where’s the phone number,” you ask? Holding off on that till I find out if I’m operating an illegal trucking company.
Deep in the biotech colony of South San Francisco a new race of humans is being engineered. By human engineers. They want to look good. They’re only human after all. A series of service vans are contracted to provide necessities not found on the acres of manicured campus that houses the laboratorys and research centers ensconced in stucco and glass towers not far from the Bay. Perhaps a seagull occasionally wheels through the currents above but there are no merchants in this city, only developers. Footpaths hedged with shrubs link parking lots together but you don’t pass a newsstand. So the rolling storefront is born. Every Thursday you can step into a hair salon that gets 12 miles to the gallon. And the familiar tootling of a taco truck horn is of course nothing like the sound a hairdresser equipped to do nails has under the hood. Anywhere there is a captive audience there will be a sales pitch. The dreamer who trailers in a video game arcade with Galaga, a cocktail table Ms. Pacman, the machine that accepts ones and fives and returns quarters. This is that person’s moment. Those of you wondering where your next paycheck is coming, pay attention. This is an economic opportunity. Look beyond the stigma of a construction site lunch truck or that weird van at the beach selling tie-dies. What can you bring to the table? Or to be clearer, what can you bring to the office park?
photo posted from my iPhone
Paul is one of the first city beekeepers I met and has helped me a number of times with my hives. He’s a natural, hanging out by clumps of bees unperturbed, the King Aurthur style bee veil casually thrown back, a roll of duct tape…to close the seams of the “supers” so when he moves a different hive in the morning it won’t pop open, spilling hung over lady bees into his shoes. All just down the road from me in a hidden bee yard in the Golden Gate Park.
Paul lent me his observation hive for next week when I become Mr. Bees for a fourth grade class once again. It was a lot of fun last year, and a ltitle difficult to explain the sexual orgy the queen goes through. This year I’m gonna play a video.
There’s a new iPhone app that let’s you choose from a ton of beards and mustaches and hair styles and glasses and you can adjust them to your picture, all at a table in a bar! It looks so real, too.
So many things with wheels on them and no where to go. All dressed up but not a mirror in sight.
