Everyone, and I mean everyone, bought a mega millions lotto ticket last night. People in the bars were talking about it, and anytime anyone opened their wallet to buy a drink, or fumbled in their pocket for their phone, they'd invariably pull out a lottery ticket.
It has gotten insane. And the payoff is at over $600 million. A dollar for an impossible number is worth the price for the daydream.
I bought five.
By now, they've already identified the winning numbers. I haven't checked mine. As long as I don't check, I can keep the idea of winning without confirming the losing.
It's the Schroedinger's cat of lottery tickets.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
sex in the break room
Someone placed a full bag of popcorn on the empty work room table with a post-it reading "eat me."
A coworker had just used the compressed air to clean her keyboard an it was lying on the counter. I was unable to stop myself from placing them there together, but managed to resist attaching the post-it message.
The implied declaration here being: "Blow me."
A coworker had just used the compressed air to clean her keyboard an it was lying on the counter. I was unable to stop myself from placing them there together, but managed to resist attaching the post-it message.
The implied declaration here being: "Blow me."
says the guy who drinks a pot a coffee a day
The first step is admitting you have a problem...
Those are all empty cans of Diet Coke...from today.
Those are all empty cans of Diet Coke...from today.
Apple updates
The Jamez and I just both upgraded to nifty new Apple toys. The got the New iPad, and I upgraded to the new Apple TV. I've set up a MacMini as a sweet little video server and I've been space shifting my collection of movies and TV box sets. Unfortunately the new iTunes 10.6 update really screwed up Home Sharing with the AppleTV. In only two weeks but what seemed like ages, Apple has released a 10.6.1 update which fixes a lot of these issues. Although Apple is still sorting numbers after letters unlike the rest of the world, and is now ignoring special characters like spaces or asterisks which are commonly used to push files, folders and set lists to the top. Grr. Still, if you are an iTunes user, go grab the update.
dutch auction
An Alert Reader asks, "How much is that douchebag in the window?"
The "Team in Training/Team in Dating" Date Auction is this weekend.
Joy.
Lovely ladies, and maybe even men, can bid on one of these eligible bachelors. And by "eligible" we mean "doucebags," and by "bachelor" we mean "why would you date them?"
Here's the hottest of the bunch (actually, I would do Jason if I could be guaranteed he wouldn't speak). Meet Mark W:
This is the photo he submits for his bachelor auction profile—
Actually a nice chest, but maybe he recently lost a lot of weight because that bit above his belt is creeping me out. Regardless, this pic does not say "eligible bachelor." It says "My wingman is Rohypnol."
But, as an eligible bachelor up for auction for the lovely and monied young ladies of the Marina, I am sure his profile reads like the table of contents in GQ. Ooops. More like an application to DQ.
He also enjoys slow walks on a Summer's Eve to talk about the cleanliness of your lady business.
The "Team in Training/Team in Dating" Date Auction is this weekend.
Joy.
Lovely ladies, and maybe even men, can bid on one of these eligible bachelors. And by "eligible" we mean "doucebags," and by "bachelor" we mean "why would you date them?"
Here's the hottest of the bunch (actually, I would do Jason if I could be guaranteed he wouldn't speak). Meet Mark W:
This is the photo he submits for his bachelor auction profile—
Actually a nice chest, but maybe he recently lost a lot of weight because that bit above his belt is creeping me out. Regardless, this pic does not say "eligible bachelor." It says "My wingman is Rohypnol."
But, as an eligible bachelor up for auction for the lovely and monied young ladies of the Marina, I am sure his profile reads like the table of contents in GQ. Ooops. More like an application to DQ.
He also enjoys slow walks on a Summer's Eve to talk about the cleanliness of your lady business.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
ribbed for displeasure
So this huge guy picked me up in a bar. Literally. Right up off the floor. He was trying to crack my back, but cracked a rib instead. Four days later and I'm rooting in the medicine cabinet for old industrial strength post-surgery painkillers. I need to improve how I get picked up in bars.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
The Commerce Clause
The legal challenges against the health care reform individual mandate relate to the commerce clause of the constitution. A brief and interesting take on the history of the high court and the commerce clause is presented by a local professor on SF Appeal.
Also— The Commerce Claus: Worst Christmas movie ever.
Also— The Commerce Claus: Worst Christmas movie ever.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Tennessee: Call us Missibama
This year the state went out of their way to override and strip metropolitan areas from the LGBT equality protections they had already enacted, and they keep pushing for approval of the "can't say gay" in schools bill.
And now: they've passed a law to teach "creationism" as science in schools.
And they still shoot down any effort to allow wine sales in the grocery store. (And don't even think about selling liquor. Praise Jeebus.)
They way things are going, their next act will be to change the state flag to a movie still from Deliverance.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
parking lot
OMFG. 52 meetings. FIFTY-TWO freaking community and design meetings to renovate Dolores Park. Finally, everyone down to the "I've lived in the Mission for a month and am moving back to NYC on Tuesday" has got to touch this project and put in their two cents. A million bucks has been spent and everyone's on board now. But the now Arts Commission thinks that the roof to the one of the new bathrooms is "too boxy." So the whole thing is pushed back for months, which could cause a catastrophic cascade effect on the implementation schedule and contracts.
Mission Local has the story.
Because the roof on one of the bathrooms, a green roof with flowing plants, is "too boxy" looking. They also want more natural light, despite the designers' concern—based on their experience—of vandalism related to having them. Because what Dolores Park needs is more bathroom vandalism options. Now the firm has to redesign and resubmit in a month. And get all the new designs run by the NIMBY madness again. AND the design changes then have to go back through the Historical Impact Review too. Is it any wonder why projects like this cost so much in this City?
At this point, all of us users in the part would be ecstatic would bathrooms that were, clean, secure, and function. We can deal with the slightly "boxy" roof line under the bougainvillea branches.
The more I read about it, the more I think the Arts Commission Civic Design Review Committee just needs to suck it. By the time they're done with it, Dolores Park will cost $5 million and look like a camel.
Mission Local has the story.
At this point, all of us users in the part would be ecstatic would bathrooms that were, clean, secure, and function. We can deal with the slightly "boxy" roof line under the bougainvillea branches.
The more I read about it, the more I think the Arts Commission Civic Design Review Committee just needs to suck it. By the time they're done with it, Dolores Park will cost $5 million and look like a camel.
choke it
This was posted earlier this week and I thought it was pretty cool. Then I kept going back to it and I've decide that the talent and production values involved are more than "pretty cool." I've seen it on a gay-related site or two, but this hasn't yet gone totally viral like I think it should.
(1) It calls out Chik-Fil-A for being the rabidly anti-gay zealots they claim they are not while funneling the bulk of their profits to anti-gay groups and political organizations, and financially support groups identified by the Southern Poverty Law Center as hate groups. And Chik-Fil-A wonders why students want the chain booted from their food courts.
(2) Shit balls they did a good job with this video, and the Wilson Phillips homage is just gravy. Presumably, chicken.
Gays should opt for KFC anyway— their fingers bing lickin' good and all.
(1) It calls out Chik-Fil-A for being the rabidly anti-gay zealots they claim they are not while funneling the bulk of their profits to anti-gay groups and political organizations, and financially support groups identified by the Southern Poverty Law Center as hate groups. And Chik-Fil-A wonders why students want the chain booted from their food courts.
(2) Shit balls they did a good job with this video, and the Wilson Phillips homage is just gravy. Presumably, chicken.
Gays should opt for KFC anyway— their fingers bing lickin' good and all.
fortune 500
I love companies like this. This message is especially indicative of the monkeys at ThinkGeek:
Embiggened:
our father is a daddy
Seen online today. I wish it were sourced, as it is so well done.
I mean, even the crack is perfect. So to speak.
I mean, even the crack is perfect. So to speak.
on happy hour in the Castro
I like my men like I take my cocktails: strong, stiff, and two at a time.
eventful
A+List event designer and Friend of the Blog Bronson Van Wyck is featured as this year's BizBash Event Innovator. Nice.
Video: Event Innovator Bronson van Wyck on Designing Events That Change Guests' Behavior
Video: Event Innovator Bronson van Wyck on Designing Events That Change Guests' Behavior
Polk'a(holes)
However, with the return of thriving business, restaurants and entertainment venues, tool Polk Gulch the Marina—and all it's straightness, squareness and douchiness—has been slowly making its way south. The Marina proper, to its credit, still holds fast to its own turf and neighborhood identity. But the changing state of Polk Gulch has taken a turn, and now it seems that Polk Gulch is the designation for the Bridge and Tunnel (which on this coast includes the peninsula) Marina'wanna'be crowd. Posers' posers.
From the SFist: Polk Beating Suspect Turns Himself In; Others Still At Large
Raymon Abad, 27, of San Mateo stands accused of coming to San Francisco, getting smashed, and then brutally beating a 23-year-old Hayward man who tried to stop Abad and several of his dirtbag pals from harassing women on Polk Street in January.The dirtbags were from San Mateo. The hero, who will survive but never fully recover from his injuries, is from Hayward. So I take it a bit back with the B&T crack. Kudos to the young man who stepped in to defend the damsels in distress. I hope he has a good civil lawyer.
See also.
Photo by the active photographer and photographers' activist Thomas Hawk.
Friday, March 16, 2012
fruit punch
An Alert Reader messaged me with a link to the NPR story "When Fruit Flies Strike Out, They Like To Booze It Up," admitting that, "When I saw this headline, I completely read it wrong." As a boozy, rejection-averse fruit fly herself, the mistake was understandable.
Who hasn't been there before? In fact, I think I am going there tonight.
Who hasn't been there before? In fact, I think I am going there tonight.
Guerrilla Queer Picnic
The new Dolores Park playground will have grand opening festivities Saturday, March 31. After which, there will be two years of significant renovation undertaken in two phases.
What fate Dolores Beach? Also known as "the Gay Shelf?" Original host of the Guerrilla Queer Bar crawls, has created a Facebook page called The Fruit Shelf and is pushing the idea for themed picnic days beginning in April. Sort of Burning Man meets Beach Blanket Bingo. You know how down we San Franciscans are with costumes, props and themes. If this gets a critical mass of participation, it could be a sight to see. I recall guys setting up entire structures and landscaping with paving stones and furniture when we used to camp at Fife's over Memorial Day Weekend at the Russian River. I'll be staying tuned.
What fate Dolores Beach? Also known as "the Gay Shelf?" Original host of the Guerrilla Queer Bar crawls, has created a Facebook page called The Fruit Shelf and is pushing the idea for themed picnic days beginning in April. Sort of Burning Man meets Beach Blanket Bingo. You know how down we San Franciscans are with costumes, props and themes. If this gets a critical mass of participation, it could be a sight to see. I recall guys setting up entire structures and landscaping with paving stones and furniture when we used to camp at Fife's over Memorial Day Weekend at the Russian River. I'll be staying tuned.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
oh give me a home
From the Huffington Post today: "According to a report released this week by the National Low Income Housing Coalition, San Francisco is the most expensive place in the country to rent housing."
Well, shit.
San Francisco Rents the Highest in the Nation
Well, shit.
San Francisco Rents the Highest in the Nation
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
country brunch
Misisipi Mike says this week is gonna be a good'un:
Sunday's "country brunch" show at the Utah will be one for the ages. Three of the best guitar players in the Bay Area are all coming down to do songs. Michael Montalto (aka Guitar Show) of Red Meat and East Bay Grease (and Wanda Jackson even!), Rik Elswit of Gayle Lynn's Hired Hands and Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show, and Hank Maninger, from Hacienda Brothers, the Seducers, etc. etc. (even the Valley Girl soundtrack when he was still just a wee child).
Wilson Grayson
Am I too old for that?
Probably.
But I am made of awesome.
image source
Monday, March 12, 2012
rage against the womanchine
In her revised (winner Best One-Woman show in United NYC Solo 2011) and newly-named, one-woman show, Marliyn Pittman is All the Rage at the Marsh Theater. Marilyn has some anger issues, and she takes us on an entertaining tour of why those may have come to be. As the show is billed, this may be the funniest show you ever see about murder-suicide.
I sort of think of this act as tour through her familial damage—if her therapy sessions and family albums were captioned by Lewis Black. The show is a mouthful of funny with a bitter Yager chaser, a tale of a controlling father and passive mother—a mother who couldn't leave and a father who, ultimately, couldn't let her go. It's no wonder that Marilyn has some dragons to slay. But irony is her shield and wit is her rapier.
This isn't a comedy, per se, and it's certainly not stand up. It is a story you'll care about, and that may be why you'll laugh. The scenes, often including unbelievable journal or therapy transcripts from her parents, are punctuated by brief musical interludes. Marilyn wisely chose excerpts to comment on the drama, without going for the cliché. Or maybe those were just the tracks to which she could get the rights. She chose more wisely than I would have. I would have gone for the obvious gags with songs like Crazy (either Patsy's or Brittney's), Crazy for You, I Used to Love Her (But I had to Kill Her), Don't Leave Me This Way, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Love is a Battlefield and so forth.
Her tale, as all great comedies are, is a tragic one. And the trauma has left her with this rage constantly brimming below the surface, and always needing to be conquered. Sometimes for the sake of herself, but always for the love of her wife. At the end of the show, I imagine her life must at times feel like that of Sisyfus and the stone, but in her case the stone is a dragon, and she is Saint George. Over and over again.
Go see it, but be careful crossing the street.
Marilyn Pittman's All the Rage is playing through April 15 at the Marsh Theater on Valencia at 22nd.
excellence saunters into the Hotel Utah Saloon
I have been loving the third-Sunday Bluegrass Brunch with the Afternoon Delight Social Band at the Hotel Utah Saloon for some time now, even though the menu and service have at times been problematic. Well, based on January's and February's experiences, there is a new sheriff in town. And he's kicking some culinary ass. The band, as always, is also kicking ass. Although Hardly Strictly Bluegrass could be considered Purely Bluegrass compared to the "bluegrass" played by the Afternoon Delight Social Band. So much so, they care considering changing the name from Bluegrass Brunch to something else. It's pretty much "Whatever the hodgepodge of local talent feel like playing today and it's mostly urban country, folk, and whatever the room shouts out as long as it's in the neighborhood of country or folk" Brunch. While there's not a whole lot of bluegrass, there is a LOT of talent and a lot of fun. January found its way into a Fleetwood Mac/CCR sort of mood which suited the generation in attendance quite well. And they rocked it.
But the big hits were coming out of the kitchen. Chef Jack is the new chef at the Hotel Utah and he's kept what was good and has added what is better. Remaining on the standard menu are the excellent burgers (and I don't say that lightly) and other bar food, but the brunch menu has been upgraded not only in selection, but quality. Jack makes everything from scratch (home fries, yes; french fries, no), including the seasonings for the fresh fried chicken breast fillets for the Chicken & Waffle dish. OMFG. I have a hankering for those good songs coming out of Misisipi Mike's kitchen, and the freshly plucked feeling I get from bassist Mike Anderson, but I will now push either one of them down to get to Jack's fried chicken and waffle. The chicken is skinless, boneless, and highly seasoned to awesome, and the waffle is unbelievably light. With skilled Jack running the kitchen and other help joining the staff, the adorable Irish Ginger Bear Bartender Robert has finally got sufficient support, and can crank out quick cocktails as well as carefully craft some signature bloody marys—even though we tend to opt for the bottomless mimosas. We may be cheap but we are not free. Items from their standard menu are available for order, and here's a snap of the current brunch menu:
Not featured are the occasional specials. I could not resist the chicken and waffle, but Angela ordered the blackened fish special. And after it arrived, it smelled so enticing I expected to see a cartoon hand of vapor wafting from the plate and beckoning me with its fingers. If you're not getting the chicken, get the fish.
Served in proper southern style with greens and black-eyed peas. Yum.
The Bluegrass-Adjacent Brunch is hosted every third Sunday at the Hotel Utah Saloon with the Afternoon Delight Social Band. Come with a hungry tummy and thirsty ears.
Update: This just in from Misisipi Mike: Sunday's "country brunch" show at the Utah will be one for the ages. Three of the best guitar players in the Bay Area are all coming down to do songs. Michael Montalto (aka Guitar Show) of Red Meat and East Bay Grease (and Wanda Jackson even!), Rik Elswit of Gayle Lynn's Hired Hands and Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show, and Hank Maninger, from Hacienda Brothers, the Seducers, etc. etc. (even the Valley Girl soundtrack when he was still just a wee child). How can you miss this?? Sunday, noon to 3 pm, free, kids welcome, food served, and the Midnight Gamblers are the house band!
no fleas on me
Longing for some quality time and a little adventure, I took a friend to the flea market on Alemany the other Sunday. The Flea Market on Alemany is not to be confused with the Alemeda Flea Market. The former is reportedly super awesome and hipster and Antiques roadshow fun time. The latter requires so much irony to be enjoyed that I think it would kill most hipsters with the irony equivalent of lead poisoning. The latter also has the benefit of being This Side of the Bay. However, it takes some epic ironics to enjoy the Flea Market on Alemany.
Which is to say we had a pretty good time.
Most of the items at the flea market on Alemany are just leftover crap anyone else would have thrown away. Things like: mismatched remote controls, and tubs and tubs of broken power tools.
And for some reason, endless supplies of VHS tapes, usually with hand-printed labels of stuff recorded off of television. For reals. Do people pay for these stalls or is it just first-come, first-served squatting? I can't imagine they make money, or even break even. We did have a scavenger hunt of sorts for "the creepiest item" at the market. We spontaneously remarked, "And here it is" when we laid eyes on the 49ers Hobo.
Other items of note were the heavily meta "guide to flea market crap" reference book from the Time-Life series, and the heating pad whose name I totally misread.
The Thermawhore, with it's deep, penetrating moist heat, really deserves some photoshopping.
I also found an awesome engagement gift for Helena Handbasket, but that merits its own post when I can scan some sections.
The prize section was the vinyl, and I could have spent an hour rummaging if I had any inclination to squat that long. Great covers included a super rare cast album featuring a very young Carol Burnett,
and a copy of Paul Anka Swings for Young Lovers—because who knew that Paul Anka was such a swinger. And that pose basically translates to "Suck me off, bitches." And his eyes make it clear that the bitches' gender is unimportant.
Very Auto Focus without the need to bathe in Purell afterwards. Just a hot towel. Steaming.
I only bought one to take home as a gift for someone. But I may frame it for myself as there is just so much awesome on the cover.
Lawd I love this copy. And you should see the track list. I'm hoping I can matte this between glass so you both sides can be read when taken off the hook.
Burlesque being off this hook as it is. On second thought, you should buy me dinner first. Or a drink. Or just come over and take your shirt off. I've got a USB turntable.
Which is to say we had a pretty good time.
Most of the items at the flea market on Alemany are just leftover crap anyone else would have thrown away. Things like: mismatched remote controls, and tubs and tubs of broken power tools.
And for some reason, endless supplies of VHS tapes, usually with hand-printed labels of stuff recorded off of television. For reals. Do people pay for these stalls or is it just first-come, first-served squatting? I can't imagine they make money, or even break even. We did have a scavenger hunt of sorts for "the creepiest item" at the market. We spontaneously remarked, "And here it is" when we laid eyes on the 49ers Hobo.
Other items of note were the heavily meta "guide to flea market crap" reference book from the Time-Life series, and the heating pad whose name I totally misread.
The Thermawhore, with it's deep, penetrating moist heat, really deserves some photoshopping.
I also found an awesome engagement gift for Helena Handbasket, but that merits its own post when I can scan some sections.
The prize section was the vinyl, and I could have spent an hour rummaging if I had any inclination to squat that long. Great covers included a super rare cast album featuring a very young Carol Burnett,
and a copy of Paul Anka Swings for Young Lovers—because who knew that Paul Anka was such a swinger. And that pose basically translates to "Suck me off, bitches." And his eyes make it clear that the bitches' gender is unimportant.
Very Auto Focus without the need to bathe in Purell afterwards. Just a hot towel. Steaming.
I only bought one to take home as a gift for someone. But I may frame it for myself as there is just so much awesome on the cover.
Lawd I love this copy. And you should see the track list. I'm hoping I can matte this between glass so you both sides can be read when taken off the hook.
Burlesque being off this hook as it is. On second thought, you should buy me dinner first. Or a drink. Or just come over and take your shirt off. I've got a USB turntable.
tales from folkbore
Concept: The Bible as really old fan fiction.
Inspired by this one paragraph in Cracked's excellent take dawn of the puritanism and hypocrisy of hate groups like the American Family Association and Million Moms in the digital age: How Archie's Gay Friend Proved the Internet Can Do Good
Inspired by this one paragraph in Cracked's excellent take dawn of the puritanism and hypocrisy of hate groups like the American Family Association and Million Moms in the digital age: How Archie's Gay Friend Proved the Internet Can Do Good
The second method is bringing in a new invisible character from a different book [contextual note: Jesus in the Bible] to object, but that's not preaching morality, that's writing fan fiction. But when your favorite author has only released four books in the last two millenniums, you're going to get a lot of people writing their own fan fiction about how the characters would react to modern things that didn't exist when the canon was laid down.See also:
When Archie is too progressive for you, that's how science identifies you as an earlier species. All those people asking questions about your protest aren't reporters, they're anthropologists trying to work out why you didn't die off before we became Homo sapiens. And if they said so, you'd be more upset about the "homo" part. Instead of evolving from monkeys like the rest of us, your only improvement is flinging shit metaphorically instead of physically. And since several species of monkey enjoy homosexuality and don't say anything, they're two steps ahead of the American Family Association.
Friday, March 09, 2012
feel like a natural woman
A couple of my Female American friends are approaching that time that, in my words, makes them "feel like a natural woman." The discussion of which led to several euphemisms over lunch. The reference to the Crimson Tide led to one about their Red October (carefully avoiding a pun on Hunt). My favorite though, which may become the new standard, was The Red Vadge of Courage.
Hanging ten on the crimson tide....
Playing quarterback for the Crimson Tide...
Red Alert...
See Spot Run...
PMS: the gift that keeps on giving.
Hanging ten on the crimson tide....
Playing quarterback for the Crimson Tide...
Red Alert...
See Spot Run...
PMS: the gift that keeps on giving.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
Foxes 'n' the henhouse
Carrington Nelson Fox—lifelong friend, mother of three, and one day author of the Ballad of Aretha then Chicken—reports from Nashville that the City of Nashville/ Metropolitan Davidson County has passed a law allowing for the already popular practice of "urban" chickening. Yes, I'm calling this hobby "chickening." (For the Highlander fans, in this case there can be more than one.) Carrington and her boys are chickeners.
Chicken dance: Backyard birds become legal
And frankly, you've got to love a news story that gets the tags, "Nashville," "Chickens," and "City." In that order. By the way, the neighborhoods in question are pretty swank. Chickening is the new yoga.
I know a surprising number of young mothers/families who have chickens in Nashville. And the day my dad passed away, Young Oscar Fox suffered the tragic loss of his favorite hen, Aretha, to an unknown but suspected opossum predator. My loss, however, trumped his and I made of point of telling that to his mother. Eyes back to me. Still, good story though. Poor Aretha.
Honestly, I'm thinking if I had a house in Nashville, I would have chickens. Maybe I'll give Leland a couple. Him being a good egg and all of that.
My favorite bits from Carrington's reporting:
Chicken dance: Backyard birds become legal
And frankly, you've got to love a news story that gets the tags, "Nashville," "Chickens," and "City." In that order. By the way, the neighborhoods in question are pretty swank. Chickening is the new yoga.
I know a surprising number of young mothers/families who have chickens in Nashville. And the day my dad passed away, Young Oscar Fox suffered the tragic loss of his favorite hen, Aretha, to an unknown but suspected opossum predator. My loss, however, trumped his and I made of point of telling that to his mother. Eyes back to me. Still, good story though. Poor Aretha. Honestly, I'm thinking if I had a house in Nashville, I would have chickens. Maybe I'll give Leland a couple. Him being a good egg and all of that.
My favorite bits from Carrington's reporting:
Grassroots group Urban Chicken Advocates of Nashville (UCAN) worked with the bill’s sponsor, Councilmember Karen Bennett, to draft legislation that would minimize complaints from neighbors. After an earlier attempt at legalizing urban hens failed two years ago, the new chicken ordinance allows a maximum of six hens in predator-proof coops and covered runs positioned in the backyard, at least 10 feet from each property line and 25 feet from a neighbor’s residential structure. The law will be reevaluated in two years, after which it will either expire or be renewed.I included that last sentence just for the term "backyard poultry." That's just waiting for a band name or a tumblr account.
Perhaps most importantly, roosters are prohibited, a fact that raised plenty of eyebrows among city slickers observing the urban chicken campaign. “But how do you get eggs if you don’t have a rooster?” they asked, almost comically underscoring the fact that we urban dwellers have become so distanced from the sources of our food that we have lost touch with basic biology. (Pssst, here’s a hint: Women ovulate regularly too, and that doesn’t mean we have babies every month.)
Furthermore, chickens will still not be allowed in neighborhoods where homeowners’ associations prohibit backyard poultry.
man down at Burger Up
Favorite person and excellent writer Kay West shared a link to some terribly tragic news this morning. The co-founder of Burger Up in Nashville, in a bout of depression, vandalized his own shop and took his life inside this morning.
I never knew the owners—Michael Pontes and his now ex-wife and source of his depression—but I have loved Burger Up and the quality it brought to the neighborhood since it opened so many years ago. I almost moved in down the street from the corner back in 1993, but while the neighborhood had potential, and was alternative-cool-adjacent, it was still far too sketchy and dangerous for our tastes. It's a vibrant community now, with long time residents and entrepreneurs enjoying the fruits of their community-building. (Is a backlash of trendy far behind?)
Burger Up is a neighborhood eatery as well as a destination. I go there with my closest of friends at least once every trip home to Nashville. It feels like home to me.
And the food is almost as full of love as my company. This is sad news indeed. I recommend reading the whole piece but an excerpt is presented below.
From the respectful piece in the Nashville Scene:
I never knew the owners—Michael Pontes and his now ex-wife and source of his depression—but I have loved Burger Up and the quality it brought to the neighborhood since it opened so many years ago. I almost moved in down the street from the corner back in 1993, but while the neighborhood had potential, and was alternative-cool-adjacent, it was still far too sketchy and dangerous for our tastes. It's a vibrant community now, with long time residents and entrepreneurs enjoying the fruits of their community-building. (Is a backlash of trendy far behind?)
Burger Up is a neighborhood eatery as well as a destination. I go there with my closest of friends at least once every trip home to Nashville. It feels like home to me.
And the food is almost as full of love as my company. This is sad news indeed. I recommend reading the whole piece but an excerpt is presented below.
From the respectful piece in the Nashville Scene:
Sometime around 3:17 on Saturday morning, Michael Pontes hit "send."
It was an angry email, intended to hurt. It was a 1,000-plus-word grievance, full of the stress and heartbreak and bile that divorce brings.
And it told the 100 or so people copied that he was going to end his life.
He drove his truck down to Burger Up, the 12 South restaurant he built with his business partner and estranged wife Miranda Whitcomb Pontes. He pulled out a can of pink spray paint, the kind you can see from blocks away, and scrawled an insult across the windows.
It would serve as his very public last word. By the time the police arrived a little before 4 a.m. — alerted by his attorney, who had been awake and gotten the email — Michael Pontes had entered Burger Up with a handgun and killed himself.
News of Pontes' suicide, driven home by the vandalized exterior, jarred a neighborhood that rarely sees any major disturbance. That wasn't always the case. In the old days, Sevier Park was an open-air drug market, not the family-friendly place it is now. Nor was 12South always the prime destination it has become. Businesses along this stretch of 12th Avenue were more ragtag than trendy. But the neighborhood's fortunes rose dramatically over the past 20 years, turned around by some planning muscle and an ounce or two of foresight. It has evolved into one of the hottest communities in the city.
stu, stu, studio
Message from a friend this morning, "I woke up this morning in an east Nashville studio surrounded by a case of Bud Light and baby banjo ukuleles."
I'm not sure why, but I love that. Independent of the "always on the ear out for sentences I've never heard before" thing.
I'm not sure why, but I love that. Independent of the "always on the ear out for sentences I've never heard before" thing.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
I can't wait for the new AppleTV
But it looks like I'll have to. After the long-awaited announcement, I went home to use my Apple gift card to pre-order an AppleTV online with free shipping and guaranteed March 16 arrival to my doorstep. Except that even though the new AppleTV was just announced late morning, by the end of the day the shipping out time went from immediate to "1-2 weeks."
I'll wait and get mine at the store. If it's anything like the iPhone 4S launch, that will be quicker than pre-ordering (when people had to wait more than a month if they ordered online, but could walk into a store and just pick one up).
Regardless, the new AppleTV looks great. And although I'll miss the local drive ease of the original, my first gen is starting to crap out.
(Image from Cult of Mac)
I'll wait and get mine at the store. If it's anything like the iPhone 4S launch, that will be quicker than pre-ordering (when people had to wait more than a month if they ordered online, but could walk into a store and just pick one up).
Regardless, the new AppleTV looks great. And although I'll miss the local drive ease of the original, my first gen is starting to crap out.
(Image from Cult of Mac)
Nightlife is the heartbeat of SF. And a new report shows it to be the lifeblood too.
Typical California NIMBYism rears it's head on Polk Street. It took ten years, and hard work over the past five, for new businesses and some brave new bar and restaurant owners to turn a drug0addled and crime ridden area into a successful destination neighborhood. Now some neighbors are complaining that people go there (and talk on the sidewalk at night). The area has gone from Danger Zone 24/7 to good shops, restaurants and light entertainment. These people need to seriously STFU.
On the other hand, a City-commissioned study just released gives San Francisco nightlife and entertainment the higher ground against the nannies and conservatives in the ABC, SFPD, and Board of Supervisors—the nightlife/entertainment industry generated over $4.2 BILLION to the City economy in 2010. And that's not even considering the support/related industries such as taxis, hotels, public transit or major events. Wow. I think the City leaders, and the SFPD PTB, better change their tune to protect this industry, and fast.
On the other hand, a City-commissioned study just released gives San Francisco nightlife and entertainment the higher ground against the nannies and conservatives in the ABC, SFPD, and Board of Supervisors—the nightlife/entertainment industry generated over $4.2 BILLION to the City economy in 2010. And that's not even considering the support/related industries such as taxis, hotels, public transit or major events. Wow. I think the City leaders, and the SFPD PTB, better change their tune to protect this industry, and fast.
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
Davidson back in March Madness
Yeah Baby!
The Davidson Wildcats, now without the awesome Steph Curry, have made it back into March Madness, with a nail biter of a win last night.
Davidson survives, wins Southern Conference title
The Davidson Wildcats, now without the awesome Steph Curry, have made it back into March Madness, with a nail biter of a win last night.
Davidson survives, wins Southern Conference title
Monday, March 05, 2012
in which Judy Blume and Beverley Clearly are bitch slapped, then make out
In my period of chilling, I have begun to make my way through the "to read" pile of books. I have a ridiculous pile of books as since I got the iPad I have not been turning to paper pages for reading. At the top of my "to read" pile is a teen/young adult novel given to me by my niece as a must-read. It's one of her favorite books, by her favorite author, and it's totally a big deal. It's all the rage. It's the best book ever.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson is co-authored by John Green, one of the Vlog Brothers, and whose brother Hank named his most recent album after my aforementioned niece.
She is very cool.
So, I'm about one-third of the way through the book. I'm enjoying it. I'm not losing my shit over it like everyone else, but still, it's very entertaining.
This is a teen novel. The characters, like my niece, are sophomores/juniors in high school. I am struck, deeply, by two aspects of this book. It is NOT the teen literature I grew up on.
(1) There is a lot of cursing and sex talk in this book. Dicks, girls, sex, jerking off—lots of jerking off references. Lots of copulation discussion, but no actual sex (so far). Well, "lots" by comparison. Even Margaret didn't ask God about what might go into her vagina just what started coming out of it. Even in college we didn't talk about masturbating. And guys would still pretend that they didn't. As if. (Granted, I was excluded from some of the "mutual" recreations in college and the fraternity as the guys thought I wouldn't be able to deal with it because it seemed a bit gay. That's how far in the closet I was.) But I digress. My point is, teen novels when I was a teenager did not have a lot of sex references. Much less, the casual coming-of-age and part-of-life tone included here. Anything we saw in the early 80s was more akin to a Very Special Episode. Sort of like mental patients have "episodes."
And then I think, this book was given to me by my niece. She's awesome, but like her father, I want to cover her in a burka and send her to a convent for boarding school. In my mind she's still the little wholesome Cindy Lou Who and I want to play offensive lineman to block her from anything more scandalous than Hello Kitty, even though she sometimes draws Hello Kitty with a rifle on the back of a shooting target. And I'm the Hardcastle child who has friends who refer to their "dungeon" or "playroom" as casually as other people say "home office." Who knew I could be so conservative?
(2) Of the five main characters, sophomores or juniors in high school mind you, in this insanely popular book (debuted at #3 on the New York Times bestseller list for children’s chapter books)—of the five main characters, two of them are gay. Like really gay. And it is no big deal. Holy frakking shit. I was shoved so far into the closet in high school I was in goddamn Narnia. My life in an ultra-conservative, southern, all-boy prep school could only lightly be referred to as "angsty." I'm amazed that my nephew-in-law could come out last fall, at 16. Good for him. I am both jaded and jealous.
So far, these observations notwithstanding, it's a cool book, and an interesting story, and the collaboration is unique and works well.
From the Wikipedia page: "In designing the plot for the book, the two authors decided to split it evenly in half. This also held true for the main characters' names, with Levithan choosing the given name and Green the surname. The only plot they decided on together was the fact that the two characters would meet at some point in the novel and that their meeting would have a tremendous effect on their lives. After this decision, they separately wrote the first three chapters for their half and then shared them with each other. After sharing, they then "knew immediately it was going to work", as stated by Levithan."
My favorite line so far is from the first page: Tiny Cooper is not the world's gayest person, and he is not the world's largest person, but I believe that he may be the world's largest person who is really, really gay and the also the world's gayest person who is really, really large.
Holden Cauffield has nothing on Will Grayson. Either of them.
Update: Okay, it seems I wrote this post just before I turned the page to the awesome part. Now I can't put it down. The two meeting chapters alone are worth the fans' devotion. Shiny.
Update: Goddamn teen novel has gone and made me cry. It's like the nosey TSA has rummaged through my emotional baggage.
Update: Couldn't put the damn awesome thing down and stayed up to 1:30 this morning finishing it. I now happily join the ranks of those, who at one point or another, lost their shit over this book. I am glad I put down the iPad and starting reading books again.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson is co-authored by John Green, one of the Vlog Brothers, and whose brother Hank named his most recent album after my aforementioned niece.
She is very cool.
This is a teen novel. The characters, like my niece, are sophomores/juniors in high school. I am struck, deeply, by two aspects of this book. It is NOT the teen literature I grew up on.
(1) There is a lot of cursing and sex talk in this book. Dicks, girls, sex, jerking off—lots of jerking off references. Lots of copulation discussion, but no actual sex (so far). Well, "lots" by comparison. Even Margaret didn't ask God about what might go into her vagina just what started coming out of it. Even in college we didn't talk about masturbating. And guys would still pretend that they didn't. As if. (Granted, I was excluded from some of the "mutual" recreations in college and the fraternity as the guys thought I wouldn't be able to deal with it because it seemed a bit gay. That's how far in the closet I was.) But I digress. My point is, teen novels when I was a teenager did not have a lot of sex references. Much less, the casual coming-of-age and part-of-life tone included here. Anything we saw in the early 80s was more akin to a Very Special Episode. Sort of like mental patients have "episodes."
And then I think, this book was given to me by my niece. She's awesome, but like her father, I want to cover her in a burka and send her to a convent for boarding school. In my mind she's still the little wholesome Cindy Lou Who and I want to play offensive lineman to block her from anything more scandalous than Hello Kitty, even though she sometimes draws Hello Kitty with a rifle on the back of a shooting target. And I'm the Hardcastle child who has friends who refer to their "dungeon" or "playroom" as casually as other people say "home office." Who knew I could be so conservative?
(2) Of the five main characters, sophomores or juniors in high school mind you, in this insanely popular book (debuted at #3 on the New York Times bestseller list for children’s chapter books)—of the five main characters, two of them are gay. Like really gay. And it is no big deal. Holy frakking shit. I was shoved so far into the closet in high school I was in goddamn Narnia. My life in an ultra-conservative, southern, all-boy prep school could only lightly be referred to as "angsty." I'm amazed that my nephew-in-law could come out last fall, at 16. Good for him. I am both jaded and jealous.
So far, these observations notwithstanding, it's a cool book, and an interesting story, and the collaboration is unique and works well.
From the Wikipedia page: "In designing the plot for the book, the two authors decided to split it evenly in half. This also held true for the main characters' names, with Levithan choosing the given name and Green the surname. The only plot they decided on together was the fact that the two characters would meet at some point in the novel and that their meeting would have a tremendous effect on their lives. After this decision, they separately wrote the first three chapters for their half and then shared them with each other. After sharing, they then "knew immediately it was going to work", as stated by Levithan."
My favorite line so far is from the first page: Tiny Cooper is not the world's gayest person, and he is not the world's largest person, but I believe that he may be the world's largest person who is really, really gay and the also the world's gayest person who is really, really large.
Holden Cauffield has nothing on Will Grayson. Either of them.
Update: Okay, it seems I wrote this post just before I turned the page to the awesome part. Now I can't put it down. The two meeting chapters alone are worth the fans' devotion. Shiny.
Update: Goddamn teen novel has gone and made me cry. It's like the nosey TSA has rummaged through my emotional baggage.
Update: Couldn't put the damn awesome thing down and stayed up to 1:30 this morning finishing it. I now happily join the ranks of those, who at one point or another, lost their shit over this book. I am glad I put down the iPad and starting reading books again.
taking it easy
Sigh. While I am enjoying my quiet time somewhat, and I recognize that it is entirely necessary, I sense the fun and activity around me and I still feel the pull. Taking care of myself, this weekend I refrained from Nasty and Bearracuda with good friends, only to look upon their online updates with envy.
I finally posted myself: This whole "being responsible" and taking it easy thing is remarkably more boring.
Responded the Loose Cannon: You sound like my grandmother; she said stuff like that all the time. My favorite was "Getting old is the dullest thing I've ever done." And she meant it.
I need some springtime in my body and soul. At least even my dull is pretty sharp.
I finally posted myself: This whole "being responsible" and taking it easy thing is remarkably more boring.
Responded the Loose Cannon: You sound like my grandmother; she said stuff like that all the time. My favorite was "Getting old is the dullest thing I've ever done." And she meant it.
I need some springtime in my body and soul. At least even my dull is pretty sharp.
Parkside Sunday
Maurice and Mike from 77 along with a talented steel slide player, whose (apologies) name escaped me, opened up for the Barbwyre show at Thee Parkside Sunday afternoon. The show was also broadcast on KPFA (and KPFB in Berkeley). Coco and I got some quality catch-up time with some quality music.
And, apparently, we just missed Sarah Connor, who was sitting at our table earlier.
Keen-eyed Coles spotted this sticker on the fender above my shoulder, and asked, "Does it really need grease?"
In some cases, yes.
I did not accept evening invitations, nor go to Sundance, nor close out the night with the Glamazone. I am still suppose to be taking it easy to let my lungs and system recover. Meh to that. Shouts to the fun kids I gave a lift to from the Mission to the Castro, and thanks for the invitation to join. But beyond my "No Q Bar" rule, I was also committed to recovery and getting prepared for heavy dancing and socializing as Spring approaches. So soup and Sherlock was my Sunday night. Emotional recovery continues as well, although I continue to notice and avoid things like the box of stationery I am supposed to be using for writing condolence thank-you notes, and the "can't bring myself to open it" package of legal documents. I look forward to going back to the gym.
And, apparently, we just missed Sarah Connor, who was sitting at our table earlier.
Keen-eyed Coles spotted this sticker on the fender above my shoulder, and asked, "Does it really need grease?"
In some cases, yes.
I did not accept evening invitations, nor go to Sundance, nor close out the night with the Glamazone. I am still suppose to be taking it easy to let my lungs and system recover. Meh to that. Shouts to the fun kids I gave a lift to from the Mission to the Castro, and thanks for the invitation to join. But beyond my "No Q Bar" rule, I was also committed to recovery and getting prepared for heavy dancing and socializing as Spring approaches. So soup and Sherlock was my Sunday night. Emotional recovery continues as well, although I continue to notice and avoid things like the box of stationery I am supposed to be using for writing condolence thank-you notes, and the "can't bring myself to open it" package of legal documents. I look forward to going back to the gym.
but can you see it from space?
Okay, you can't see the Great Wall of China from space either. That's a myth.
But (via Regretsy) you can marvel at the myriad of female manifestation in The Great Wall of Vagina, a plaster cast art installation from Jamie McCartney.
Other headlines which come to mind are "Vaginal Wall" and "Lawrence of a Labia." Between this news and the announcement that our department needs to get new photo IDs/access badges made, the line in my head keeps repeating, "Vadges? We don't need no sticking vadges!"
Actually, I think this art piece is a pretty cool idea. Granted, my interest in it would be clearly academic, so there's that. The artist explains, "Vulvas and labia are as different as a faces and many people, particularly women, don’t seem to know that… showing the variety of shapes is endlessly fascinating, empowering and comforting. For many women their genitals are a source of shame rather than pride and this piece seeks to redress the balance, showing that everyone is different and everyone is normal."
But (via Regretsy) you can marvel at the myriad of female manifestation in The Great Wall of Vagina, a plaster cast art installation from Jamie McCartney.
Other headlines which come to mind are "Vaginal Wall" and "Lawrence of a Labia." Between this news and the announcement that our department needs to get new photo IDs/access badges made, the line in my head keeps repeating, "Vadges? We don't need no sticking vadges!"
Actually, I think this art piece is a pretty cool idea. Granted, my interest in it would be clearly academic, so there's that. The artist explains, "Vulvas and labia are as different as a faces and many people, particularly women, don’t seem to know that… showing the variety of shapes is endlessly fascinating, empowering and comforting. For many women their genitals are a source of shame rather than pride and this piece seeks to redress the balance, showing that everyone is different and everyone is normal."
made me GIGgle
wakin' to the shakin'
I'm getting a bit jaded. Okay, perhaps I've been jaded for some time and it's just that the CPAP makes me a heavier sleeper. This morning's 4.0 shook my apartment something serious. The big shake and the rattlings in the apartment woke me up, but I was unwilling to rise for cover. I remained slightly alert in case my bedside lamp or glass of water were shaken completely off the bedside table, but was still half asleep when I thought, "Let's see how long this lasts. If something crashes, I'll get up..." Honestly, I think I should have been more alarmed, but then the shaking stopped, I noted the time to look it up later, and then fell back into unconsciousness—very Californian of me.
Update: it was downgraded to a 3.5. Meh.
Update: it was downgraded to a 3.5. Meh.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
I am reminded of a young John Candy in Stripes
Add to the list of fun, underground, only-in-SF events, SF Boylesque presents monthly man-on-man lube wrestling at El Rio. This town continues to amuse me so. And hats on and hats off to ringleader Maximus Barnaby!
Shortly after this was taken I was told of the "no cameras, be present" rule, although there is an official photographer on hand. Front row audience members are provided umbrellas and ponchos. Gallagher was never this much fun.
And I think I am coining a new term for events like this: Funderground.
Shortly after this was taken I was told of the "no cameras, be present" rule, although there is an official photographer on hand. Front row audience members are provided umbrellas and ponchos. Gallagher was never this much fun.
And I think I am coining a new term for events like this: Funderground.
Marvel-ous
I've been nerdgasming all week over the new Avengers trailer. It looks like Team Whedon won't disappoint!
Out with ACT: Scorching Humor
While I am still supposed to take it easy, and am weaning from the coughing fit remnants, I was happy to escape to something social last week: ACT's production of Scorched.
It was epic, and ugly-beautiful, and serious. And a complete 180 from the previous production, which was Lorenzo Pisoni's super-happy-poignant-funny-funny-awesome-awesome Humor Abuse. (I am going to write in Chinese restaurant/donut shop names today, apparently). Which also reminds me that I never got around to reviewing or posting about that one. If I were at all timely, I would have told you then to RUN DON'T WALK to see Humor Abuse. As it was, I just told every one I saw instead of blogging about it. Lorenzo Pisoni was born into the circus, was maybe the only kid to runaway from the circus to go to school, and as Tarzan was raised by apes, Lorenzo was raised by clowns.
Lorenzo is a self-identified "straight man." Not that there's anything wrong with that. Although when he stated that fact proudly at the opening of the show on "gay night," we heard a very different meaning of "I'm a straight man." It took us a second to clue in.
Pisoni's one-man life story is brilliantly written and performed, and elicited a respect and love for clown performance I never thought possible. I do not like clowns. His own performances within a performance of his and his father's work is impressive. This show is well crafted comedy and showmanship. With enough pathos and reflection, and some good comic timing of dialog contrasting the good coming timing of mime work, to bounce your spirits like a buoy on a thoroughly entertaining tide. Added bonus, who knew a clown could be such a hottie?
He's been performing and improving the show for years, so you may be able to catch it again sometime.
Bar Adagio across the street offers specials for Out-with-ACT'ers from time to time, and Kevin and I took advantage of the parking and dining discounts with fellow fun people, including host Randy and his charming beau Dominic.
ACT followed light-hearted Humor Abuse with the deeply dark Scorched. One could not be more unlike the other, but Kevin and I did appreciate the cameo appearance of a clown nose to tie our two experiences together. I think, as far as commentary to Scorched, the less said the better. It is a powerful and passionately performed play, almost epic in it's three-hour run time, entirely engaging, and a remarkable work worthy of your time and attention. It's heavy but completely accessible. The burden is not a boulder, but a series of small stones added a pebble at a time until you can bear no more. I highly recommended it.
When I first thought about posting about Scorched, I was going to limit myself to a single sentence: "A discovery of brutal, epic ugliness, beautifully rendered."
The acting is superb, as is the crafting of the production in general. The line that stayed with me the longest, and encapsulates the story well, is that some truths cannot be told, but must be discovered.
A final note on Scorched: I love Academy-and-Many-Other-Awards-Winner David Strathairn as much as the next guy (actually, I've always thought he was pretty sexy too), but his top billing and face-of-the-play is a bit misleading. This is very much an ensemble work, and Straithairn's role is more of a Chorus part. He moves the story along at times and adds some malapropism comic relief. But he is by no means the star of the play nor the a leading role. He's a famous name and face to the show, and delivers a perfect performance for his part. There's just not much to that part and it's inconsistent that he was made such the public centerpiece of the marketing. I do recommend not reading any reviews beforehand as this is best experienced without spoilers.
David Stratharin first came to my attention as the "blind guy" in the San-Francisco-set-and-filmed movie Sneakers starring Robert Redford, Dan Aykrod, Sidney Poitier, River Phoenix and Mary McDonnell. I was prepped with some SF-themed questions for the meet and greet, but as the performance didn't end until after 11:00 p.m., the reception was sparsely attended by patrons and disappointedly unattended by the cast.
With ACT, the shows tend to be hit or miss, with the misses really missing, and the hits really hitting. So far, this season has been one hit after the other.
In other ACT news: The American Conservatory Theater has bought the derelict Strand Theater at Mid-Market and will restore it to a grand actor's theater, with a more manageable size for smaller, forward productions. I'm looking forward to seeing what they'll do with the place. And hoping it will also have a decent bar, of course.
From the Subscriber Newsletter:
It was epic, and ugly-beautiful, and serious. And a complete 180 from the previous production, which was Lorenzo Pisoni's super-happy-poignant-funny-funny-awesome-awesome Humor Abuse. (I am going to write in Chinese restaurant/donut shop names today, apparently). Which also reminds me that I never got around to reviewing or posting about that one. If I were at all timely, I would have told you then to RUN DON'T WALK to see Humor Abuse. As it was, I just told every one I saw instead of blogging about it. Lorenzo Pisoni was born into the circus, was maybe the only kid to runaway from the circus to go to school, and as Tarzan was raised by apes, Lorenzo was raised by clown
Lorenzo is a self-identified "straight man." Not that there's anything wrong with that. Although when he stated that fact proudly at the opening of the show on "gay night," we heard a very different meaning of "I'm a straight man." It took us a second to clue in.
Pisoni's one-man life story is brilliantly written and performed, and elicited a respect and love for clown performance I never thought possible. I do not like clowns. His own performances within a performance of his and his father's work is impressive. This show is well crafted comedy and showmanship. With enough pathos and reflection, and some good comic timing of dialog contrasting the good coming timing of mime work, to bounce your spirits like a buoy on a thoroughly entertaining tide. Added bonus, who knew a clown could be such a hottie?
He's been performing and improving the show for years, so you may be able to catch it again sometime.
Bar Adagio across the street offers specials for Out-with-ACT'ers from time to time, and Kevin and I took advantage of the parking and dining discounts with fellow fun people, including host Randy and his charming beau Dominic.
ACT followed light-hearted Humor Abuse with the deeply dark Scorched. One could not be more unlike the other, but Kevin and I did appreciate the cameo appearance of a clown nose to tie our two experiences together. I think, as far as commentary to Scorched, the less said the better. It is a powerful and passionately performed play, almost epic in it's three-hour run time, entirely engaging, and a remarkable work worthy of your time and attention. It's heavy but completely accessible. The burden is not a boulder, but a series of small stones added a pebble at a time until you can bear no more. I highly recommended it.
When I first thought about posting about Scorched, I was going to limit myself to a single sentence: "A discovery of brutal, epic ugliness, beautifully rendered."
The acting is superb, as is the crafting of the production in general. The line that stayed with me the longest, and encapsulates the story well, is that some truths cannot be told, but must be discovered.
David Stratharin first came to my attention as the "blind guy" in the San-Francisco-set-and-filmed movie Sneakers starring Robert Redford, Dan Aykrod, Sidney Poitier, River Phoenix and Mary McDonnell. I was prepped with some SF-themed questions for the meet and greet, but as the performance didn't end until after 11:00 p.m., the reception was sparsely attended by patrons and disappointedly unattended by the cast.
With ACT, the shows tend to be hit or miss, with the misses really missing, and the hits really hitting. So far, this season has been one hit after the other.
In other ACT news: The American Conservatory Theater has bought the derelict Strand Theater at Mid-Market and will restore it to a grand actor's theater, with a more manageable size for smaller, forward productions. I'm looking forward to seeing what they'll do with the place. And hoping it will also have a decent bar, of course.
From the Subscriber Newsletter:
For nearly 100 years, this former cinema was at the center of the San Francisco film scene. It opened in 1917 and closed its doors in 2006. Thanks to a generous gift from A.C.T. Board Member Jeff Ubben and his wife, Laurie, plans are already underway to transform this historic space into a new A.C.T. venue, which will include a 300-seat performance space; a mixed-use space for classrooms, rehearsals, and cabaret performances; and a restaurant.
We're excited about the ways that The Strand will expand the scope of A.C.T. productions, giving us a tremendous opportunity to take greater artistic risks on material that calls for a more intimate setting than our 1,040-seat home, the American Conservatory Theater. We can't wait to bring these imaginative projects—both classical and contemporary—to life in this brand-new proscenium space, just down the street from our gorgeous mainstage.
With this expansion, we're excited to be able to increase our capacity as an arts and educational institution and to continue to play a strong role in revitalizing the Mid-Market neighborhood, an area that has been a home to us for years. In our bustling costume shop (located just next door to The Strand at 1117 Market Street), artisans create the beautiful garments you see on our stages; at the front of the shop, we recently opened up a new performance space known as The Costume Shop, a 49-seat black-box theater that has already housed thrilling new productions from our A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program and other local arts organizations.
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