Tuesday, June 23, 2009

I’ll BUY you a crackpipe…just don’t break my spark plugs please.

You know the recession has hit when the crack smokers of San Francisco are unable to purchased low cost pipes and must resort to the vandalism of my motorcycle. The scenario goes like this: coming back to the bike after a night out at the club or some other function and trying to start up. It is a little slow to turn over and seems to be running funny when it does fire up. First course of action in this diagnosis is to look down and find a plug wire dangling unattached. Further investigation reveals the porcelain broken off of the spark plug, still threaded in with the exposed copper wire protruding at a bizarre angle. Break off the porcelain part anyway, and you have a little jagged edge tube that you can smoke crack with and cut your lips while you blister them.
The engine design of the 86’ Yamaha Radian leaves the spark plugs in a vulnerable position to predatory rock smokers. Many bikes have the plugs set in a deeper, small space to where you need a deep socket to install and remove them. If they aren't just covered by the fairings all together. This makes a crack pipe/plug jacking a more work intensive affair and adds no small measure of difficulty to the procedure.
The first time it happened, I wanted to strangle the perp. I started to carry extras after the third time that some fool knocked me down from 4 cylinders to 3. It has became a recurrence that I have managed to get somewhat used to, strangely enough. Due in part to the realization that getting angry didn’t seem to help the situation. All the same though, if you need to something to blaze your white pebble with, hit me up here on the blog and I will BUY you a crackpipe. I’ve seen them for sale in a store downtown for .99 cents, and that is half the cost of a replacement spark plug. Take this offer into consideration before you baptize my bike in the aftermath of your singular need.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Street Gallery...the Versioned map goes on display

I took a picture of this guy (I'm the shadow in the bottom right corner) and hung a few copies of my California map retool in his street gallery. He was actually quite friendly in spite of looking pretty apprehensive here.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

California; Retooled





I took a topographic map of California and versioned it.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Who is Left Hand Up?


View the image and tell me if you are any closer to figuring that out.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Makin' space, cutting thru the dust

There was a time when the mission was to beef up the record collection to add some bulk and heft. Amoeba records worked quite nicely for that, and it weren’t long before the whole load got massive and damn near unmanageable. All my good cuts were getting lost in the stacks and any attempt at organization was quickly reversed as soon as I moved again. Trying to organize and make use of limited space got a touch stressful at times, apartment living and all. The source of this vinyl avalanche was of course the fifty cent records at Amoeba. Coming home with a BOX of records every day for four days in a row during one particular week was staggering. And I did it all the time. There are no vinyl listening stations at Amoeba so I am limited to the names of producers and labels that I recognize and things I don’t recognize, but take a chance on anyway. Working like this, I bought a fair amount of truly horrible electronic music that I dispensed with immediately and refused to allow into my collection. Then there were a lot of records that were not sterling selections, but with the desire to make my collection larger, I found something about the tracks worth keeping around. This is how I got into trouble. Along with all of these dodgy sounds tho’, I found some right fuckin’ amazing records that made ALL of that dust inhalation worthwhile.
Over the last couple of months I have been pulling all questionable selections and giving them another listen to determine whether they are worth keeping around. Taking notes and putting on stickers to mark tracks. Taking paint to some records where there is only one serviceable track and blotting out the rest with colors. Thereby saving me the effort of going thru tracks that are not playable next time.
I am getting closer to finishing task and it has taken a lot longer than I counted on, but the extra space in our apartment and my head is nyce. Except when I spilled paint on that one really choice dark house track. I’m still twisted up inside when I think about that. I have uncovered many choice pieces from their hiding places and discovered a lot of great ones that I was unaware that I even owned, there was too much. Amoeba seems to have raised the prices on most of these records to a dollar however, and the quality has dropped, but no matter. I can just be selective now that the collection is leaner and has lost all of that dead weight.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Roll Call



The toilet roll situation at my last residence got out of hand at one point.

Friday, June 5, 2009

When the mind is single tracked

You know that person in the grocery store who goes up to the sample tray and parks their body physically in front of it, so that you can’t reach around and grab one yourself? The person who is so singular in mind that they lack the wherewithal or simply don’t care that there are people behind him or her who might be trying to get at the same thing? That is the same person who will put on a pair of headphones and try to communicate with others by shouting in order to hear their own voice. Taking no recognition of the fact that the music is strapped to their own earholes and not everyone else’s. You would think that people might have enough experience talking that they don’t need to hear their own voice in order to operate it. This is also the same person who has no skill in the ability to multi-task. Their thinking is so linear that if you introduce a new concept while they are trying to perform one simple task, it all ends in a smashup.

Thursday, June 4, 2009


This is a Photo Chop that I made using a picture of my friend Kim, who is currently M.I.A. or what she likes to call 'incognegro', somewhere in San Francisco right now.

Haircut City (the same)….down to a science

Our conversations are what you would call abbreviated when I go to have some hair cut off. “Hello”, he says with a sweeping arm gesture toward the chair where I need to sit. He puts on the neck strip and the cape on me as he decides how to word the question. There is a two second silence where I can hear him thinking.
“Same?”, he carefully words the question.
“Yes. Same please.”
There are no words past that ONE that need to be spoken. And it would be a struggle because his English is very limited and I speak no Korean. He works like a surgeon with the scissors and clippers. Using research and empirical data to formulate strategy like a scientist.
When we come to the end of the session, he poses another question to me
“Okaaay?”, meaning am I happy with it and is there anything else that we need to do here. I always am, and there never is.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Business Hours Bay Loop Tour - a spin through seven counties


Last week I took my own self designed Business Hours Bay Loop Tour. All possible in part because the Left Hand is gainfully unemployed right now. I took my girlfriend to work and motored straightaway from Pacific Heights to Mill Valley in Marin County.
Coffee was on the agenda, but urination was a more, how shall we say, pressing matter. The Jiffy Lube that I stopped next to seemed a likely candidate. The bonus being the coffee that apparently comes free if you decide to stop and take a piss in their waiting room. My only complaint (and its not even that) is that it was flavored, but there again, no room to complain. On to San Rafael, which I have really only driven through once on a direct route to somewhere else. This being the point of the Bay Loop, to visit some towns in the Bay Area (over 110 towns in the Bay Area I have heard) that I always hear about but have not managed to come thru at any length yet. I drove the streets and wove around the grid. Got tired and napped in the sun. I got up and rolled straight through Sonoma and Napa Counties on the 37 off of 101. I got off in Vallejo (Solano County) and rolled around the blocks there, just watching and driving, taking photos here and there. Watched some police bother the locals.
I went to DD's Discounts and bought $30 worth of socks, they have the deal if you need some. The Dollar Tree next door worked me out of $42 as well. Ate up some time shopping and moved on to the South side of Richmond (Contra Costa County) via I-80. Stopped off to see my friend Junior and drink a Mickeys 22 oz that he bought me. Learned what 'spread' is, when a guy came up and asked Junior if he needed some. He was talking Social Security Cards and IDs, all clean. He didn't know what it was either, till then. Talked some little shit and it was time to get back down to San Francisco to pick up my girlfriend from work.

Moved it onward through Alameda County and got caught in Traffic for the Bay Bridge. Exercised patience and eventually made it through. Next time I want to make Benicia and go around Richmond more than I was able. I have to say that I have a better feel for the geographic region, all courtesy of the Business Hours Bay Loop Tour.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Sick Wit It

The part that I heard was;
“How do you like cashiering so far, sick wit it?”
Just to put it in context, this was a young white kid about 21 or so directing the question to his workmate at the Salvation Army on Geary Street. They were both suited up in their red vests and he had a puberty style moustache. She was Asian and a few years older, I’m guessing that she was Korean. I gathered that she was new to her job.
“Mm Hmm” she nodded after a slight pause.
Like she understood the first half of the question and didn’t manage the literal meaning of the last part but was intelligent enough to get the gist. To hear her talk, it wasn’t hard to tell that English was not her first language. I wondered why then he would embellish the question with some Bay Area rap phraseology, but there again, why do people do a lot of things?
I leave you with the lyrics to “Sick Wit It” by Mistah Fab.

Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.

[Verse 1:]
I pull a heater may never follow a heater man.
Even though we try to smoke the weed man.
Put up, or shot up, my loot up is wassup.
Wha-wha-what would you do as I shot yo hood up.
Even jealous my weed.
I take the cups.
Thats F.A.B. not Fabulous.
What it iz,
Sick wit it it iz,
They way this money look like I'll be indepentdent for years.
Is a gang of hood niggas eatin' off this plate.
So don't come over here if you ain't from this place.
Hear me coming bout a half a block.
Got a D in my silly for doing the robot.
Catch all kinds of us.
More kinds of thugs.
They offer designer.
More Kinds of drugs.
I'm Married to the air.
Pistol under the battery,
Dopes in the air.

[Chorus x2:]
Thizz, oh we sick wit it.
We iz, super sick wit it.
Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers.
Purple, Purple, gone off the liqour.

[Verse 2:]
I don't need no urns.
All I need is freaks.
F.a.b. what they call me.
Worty they mouths weeds.
I do the dummy, retarded, and ride the yellow bus.
Put a dent and a father be doing hella much.
High speed in my car, call it a scraper.
Pop my pees and yours bras, come for a ripper.
I only roll wit my folks, family, and mexicans.
Run away with what I have, I'm a pedestrian.
Hit the club, and I'm mad cause they wont let us in.
Now I'm about to go bad like drunk mexicans.
You know I'm mental and sumo, but I be holding weight.
Got love for the East Coast, but this is Golden Gate.
I'm from the band PI, we don't surf talk.
Since I was a PI a PI, i do Turf Talk.(yee)
T.H.I.Z.Z.Droop-E you too hard, you need to be easy.

[Chorus x2:]
Thizz, oh we sick wit it.
We iz, super sick wit it.
Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers.
Purple, Purple, gone of the liqour.

[E-40:]
Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka, it's real ugly.
Sk's and Ak's, in my Sentai.
Not the pretty aka's that go Skee-Skee.
But the ugly ak's that go Stoopy.
It really doesn't matter major feature or factor.
Walk up on that ass, you can have it in the bladder.
It's all about the money and the credits and the fat.
The rolls gone change, jewels and ear rings.
Turkin, drinking whiskey some.
Am I suburban, dropping off counters.
Tryina place my bids, tryna get in this bra.
Spit my lrp's, in Fairfeils much.
You can find me in the party getting spiffed and twisted.
See me in the club and I'm double fisted.
Higher than the Statue of Liberty, extra tipsy.
Playing possum, acting like your dizzy. (BIOTCH!)

[Chorus x2:]
Thizz, oh we sick wit it.
We iz, super sick wit it.
Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers.
Purple, Purple, gone of the liqour.

[Outro:]
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup.
Brrrrrup