Culture, San Francisco, Poetry, Music, Reviews, Short Stories and Life
Today we got lost, the Boy and I. We intended to walk through China Town and head to the Presidio, instead we ended up taking a wrong turn, not wanting to walk with the cell phone out in a sketchy area, walking past a park near Haight Ashbury, and then swinging round to Van Ness […]
MoreIf you ask me which month I’d like to reply, which was the most perfect time on the road, I would have to reply, Cass Lake in June. You see there is nothing more perfect, no matter the ticks, the mosquitos, the wet heat – which, let’s face it, sorry to break it to you, […]
MoreThe only way to come to America is with nothing. When I ran all I had was a backpack on my back and my guitar and my kids, with their backpack full of a few loved teddy bears and some clothing. I almost didn’t bring the guitar. I had to throw it in with other […]
MoreI like Iggy Pop in theory, not in practice. I like the IDEAL of the POP, not the reality of our peanut butter and blood smeared shock and awe purveyor of grotty melodic punk. There is one exception: The Passenger. The Passenger is every night not spent sleeping, but instead crawling city streets looking for […]
MoreMichael Stipe was way ahead of the curve back in 1987: the world was a relatively stable affair back then in the dark ages of popular music. I know Def Leppard, Aerosmith and Motley Crue might have made us all think that the apocalypse was upon us, but though the music sucked, the hair sucked, […]
MoreThere is no way around it, people, I am OLD. I mean not officially elderly, pass me the sherry and some comfortable slacks, but you know…not young, and for someone who personified youth rebellion, who raged at the world and pogoed her way into and out of punk-frequented bars and drug culture, getting old is […]
MoreI was dreading today. I was dreading today with a passion that I usually reserve for opening day at Oracle Park. I was dreading begging for an extension at the shelter. I was just plain intimidated and I seriously do not do well with anyone shouting or being upset with me, I know, my problem, […]
More夢の庵 I The still drops from the water cake Understated sweetness Cool Inviolate Heart beat slows To a restrained take on the universe And all within it Herded Harnessed Bit and bridled Steered Separated: Milk from curdle A slow process This is no whirl No dervish. This is time slowed down to a pin prick […]
MoreDipping in and out of Neal Cassady’s letters, some by him some to him, I read Anne Murphy’s words “Im helping paint the bus, washing and cleaning for Faye, it’s a beautiful morning, the Hermit gave me some white powder he thinks is ground up aspirin, but in your spirit (and mine), I gobbled it […]
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