My next panels. Satisfyingly, my images are starting to take on a theme which is indicated by the billboard here. What word could better represent the city in flux? For this piece, I was excited to find a site in San Francisco where twin buildings were being constructed. After biding my time, I finally got a shot in which the first building was finished and the second was still under construction, just a skeleton of the structure to be. So I’m excited about this one. It’s going to be really hard to find an image that captures the transformation of the city in a better overall composition.
I might not even try:.The unfuckable-with perfectness of the billboard and the depressingly slim chances that such perfection will strike twice got me thinking that (when this series is done) maybe I will start constructing these scenes from scratch, so every part of them is perfect. Certainly sounds like something I’d do.
Almost-done panels! The color mixed out more blue than the green I planned for, but sometimes life gives you blue. Just have to roll with the punches.
Incidentally, I visited this site again today. It’s at the Pier 66 boatyard, down a small path from Illinois Street, next to The Ramp restaurant. Definitely one of my new favorite spots in the city.
Tomorrow: video from the first day of spring in the Mission.
On the drive home from work last night I got a text message from a student:
Approximately six seconds later, turning on to Cesar Chavez Street, I entered a plume of brown smoke quickly sweeping through the neighborhood. The smoke was coming from Valencia Street and before I knew exactly what was going on, there was a palpable sense of dread.
.
The fire was two blocks away, though. A full smorgasbord of citizens of the Mission-Valenica corridor gathered on the street to watch the scene unfold.
Nothing brings the neighborhood together like a four alarm blaze. I even saw Colleen (a fellow survivor of the UCSF Puttlitz Lab) for the first time in over a year.
Saturday was good. Me and CW started the day at The Grubsteak, the old rail-car restaurant where dining options fall into two distinct categories: diner food and fine Portuguese cuisine. We got the greasy breakfast. Recently, CW has been revaluating how much of me she wants to see around. It is a complicated question and many factors, such as her new rescue dog who wants to devour my leg, are working against me. For the moment, though, I had the undevoured leg up on the little bastard for long enough for a waterfront ride along the Embarcadero to the Ferry Building farmers’ market, where the determined cheapskate can fill up on locally grown organic miscellany, one quarter of an ounce at a time. And Pier 39. A more determined version of myself would have the energy to explain why the dude who jumps on glass reminds me of myself. Needless to say, there are some good things about Fisherman’s Wharf:
And later, alone, I rode to the ocean, where it turned out to be one of those days you have to be kind of crazy to be there. I couldn’t keep my eyes open because the entire beach was engulfed in a small sandstorm and later in the shower I was rubbing the California Coast out of my hair for at least ten minutes. I needed it, though, and that’s what I love about cold, slightly disgusting and dangerous Ocean Beach–I haven’t done anything that deliberate in weeks. Plus, there were driftwood sculptures.
I’ll cut to the chase: the most important thing that happened on Saturday was Pitt’s dominating Big East Tournament championship. They were simply unstoppable. It was totally unexpected. Why, it was just two weeks ago that I was sitting alone in the Pinole Valley Applebee’s parking lot, sobbing to myself after a fourteen point spanking by West Virginia in what must be the most pathetic snapshot from the last couple of years of my life.
