Pirates, Cowboys, and Circuses

Cruising on Valencia St. down in the Mission there are some cool bookstores. Probably my fave is Dog Eared Books. I like bookstores that have new and used books on the same shelf. This means you can search your favorite author (I usually judge a bookstore by their Paul Bowles collection) and see an array of different covers of different editions through the years. When I'm traveling in other countries I love to find foreign editions of my favorite books. Funny, how much a cover gives a visual or mood of the reading experience. One of my favorite authors, Pat Conroy, has the worst covers; they're like sappy romance covers, and yet the stories are so cool. Salinger made a rule that his covers would be blank so some future artist couldn't mess with the mood of his storytelling. That's one of the bummers of these new e-readers; you can't see the covers of what people are reading. Same goes with mp3 albums; I couldn't tell you the cover of recent albums I've liked. But back to Dog Eared Books; they have a whole McSweeny's/Dave Eggers section. They also have a section dedicated to pirates, cowboys, and circuses. If you're ever looking for me, you can find me there.

Other People's Memories

They were selling these at the Museum of Modern Art's gift shop. Plastic wrapped packages of other people's memories! Someone's miscellaneous personal photos could be yours for $2.99. I've always been fascinated by this phenomenon. I was at a flea market a few years back and came across a table with a few shoeboxes of old family photos. I looked through all the memories and felt bad this fella had reached a point where he needed to sell his photographic connection to the past. When I asked him why he was doing it, he got outraged, and said they weren't his photos, he'd never sell his own family photos. And yet he had no problem selling someone else's. My grandfather passed away and there are whole photo albums of his past filled with people and memories I don't know. I'm keeping them for now, but someday will probably sadly let them go. Someday my photos will need to be let go. Maybe I'll throw them in a big bonfire or send them on a rocket into space. Or maybe I'll sell them to art connoisseurs at the MOMA.

Pirates and Thieves

If you live in San Francisco and your stuff is stolen, this is where you go to find it. Donut World on Market and 7th. The employees sell you donuts and the scraggly customers sell you stolen loot. In my early days living here, my front bicycle tire rim was stolen. I came down to Donut World, ordered a maple old-fashioned and mini carton of 2%, and sat at a sticky table in the corner. Eventually a shady guy approached trying to sell me an iPod. I told him I was looking for a bike rim and tire. He looked both ways and then told me he'd be back in five minutes. 20 minutes later he came back into Donut World, arms filled with bicycle rims of all sizes. I didn't see my exact one, but bought a similar one. He wanted ten dollars. I bargained him down to a buck. A year later, my entire bicycle was stolen. I went back to Donut World hoping to find it for 10 bucks. I was shown an entire rack of stolen bicycles a block away, plenty of nice ones too, but mine wasn't in the bunch. I thought to pay 10 dollars and upgrade to one of the stolen ones, but I didn't want to encourage this racket. San Francisco was once known as the Barbary Coast; a place of pirates, thieves, prostitutes, and tasty pastries. That world is still alive and well inside Donut World.

My Sweet Ride

There are plenty of positives and negatives about having a sweet ride like mine. A big plus, seen obviously in this picture, is that it's a chick magnet. But there are other big positives. It drives forward. It's got those seat belts that automatically strap passengers in place. It can get into tight parking spaces because it's small like a clown car. It's got a rad cassette player and the speakers only rattle a little. It has solid AM radio. It can accommodate four dudes and their boards on a surf safari. Dents blend in. And, most importantly, nobody wants to steal it. But there are a few negatives too. It sometimes doesn't drive forward. It's got these beeping seat belts that automatically strap you in. It's small like a clown car. It's got a cassette player, and I threw those out in 1989. Dents are bold and plentiful. And, nobody wants to steal it. Even with these minuses, it's my sweet ride. Though, I do have two automotive dreams: One, to have a car that was made in the decade I'm living in. And two, to have a car with a key chain door remote. I'm just gonna keep dreaming, and maybe one day my ride will be even more sweeter.

Things Change

Jeeze, I'm starting to sound like an old man. I stand in front of my young students and paint a picture of my childhood, which doesn't feel that long ago, and they freak out like I was born in a impoverished, far away world. I talk about a time before computers, cell phones, internet, 1000 channel TVs, electronic chalkboards, mp3s, GPSs, and texting. I mention ancient things like CDs, VCRs, phones with cords, cardboard 3D glasses, encyclopedias, folding maps, handwritten letters, Madonna, JC Penny Catalogues, and snail mail. And, my students stare at me with a pitiful blank stare like I'm some Oliver Twist from a bygone era. But that's how I looked at my parents when they told me about sitting in front of the radio listening to the Lone Ranger radio hour, walking five blocks to watch the one black and white TV in the neighborhood, traveling by ocean liner, and walking to school both ways, barefoot through snow.  I showed my 93 year-old grandfather my iPhone and he said it looked like it fell out of a spaceship from an advanced alien civilization. I can't imagine what my students' childrens' lives will look like. They'll never remember a physical mailbox, and that's why this tree is eating one.