Last night I met some friends at a new lounge space that's starting up in the Mission. Four longtime DJs and scenemakers have started a new, cozy space called Bollyhood Cafe on 19th Street near Mission...the cafe will feature downtempo/eastern fusion music, Bollywood movies on a big screen, things to nosh on (I had coconut chicken and roasted corn with lime sauce), good beer on tap (Chimay, microbreweries) and wine from Kermit Lynch -- all at reasonable prices. It's right next door to Baobab Cafe, so there should be an interesting back-and-forth between the two when Bollyhood really gets going.
DJ Giamma is interested in featuring live music as well as DJ mixes, so if you know some musicians who perform in this genre....
Bollyhood Cafe is at 3372 19th Street.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Got "Milk"
It started last night. I was taking the bus home from work...drowsy, only half-paying attention...anticipating my stop. I took notice of a colorful, retro record shop passing by from my darkened window. "Where did that record shop come from?" I wondered. "I'll have to check it out.....wait a sec....what neighborhood am I in? Am I on the right bus...?" But then I saw the pet food shop and realized my stop was indeed coming. I got off the bus and forgot all about it.
Today, I worked at home. I had to go to the bank....but when I got there, the ATM machines were blocked by some very large plants. A lot of people were standing around. "What's with the plants?" I asked. "They're filming a movie," said one person. I stepped around the plants to use the machine.
On the way home, I ran into a friend. She told me that they were filming a Gus Van Sant movie and only then--after she pointed out the old signage that now appears on a hip new wine-tasting shop -- did I start to notice how the street had been transformed with fake, rather drab 1970s storefronts and big, old cars and people who looked like 21st-century hippies. And there was that record shop again..."Aquarius Records," which was actually an existing shop that normally has something else inside of it (what, I can't remember). Everything looked a little bit different and more dilipidated than it's becoming already in 2008 with the current homeless problem.
Someone asked us to step across the street and they filmed a take while we watched. I think I saw Sean Penn, dressed up to look like Harvey Milk, standing in front of a shop that looked like an old campaign headquarters.
Cool! Was I the last to know about this?
Today, I worked at home. I had to go to the bank....but when I got there, the ATM machines were blocked by some very large plants. A lot of people were standing around. "What's with the plants?" I asked. "They're filming a movie," said one person. I stepped around the plants to use the machine.
On the way home, I ran into a friend. She told me that they were filming a Gus Van Sant movie and only then--after she pointed out the old signage that now appears on a hip new wine-tasting shop -- did I start to notice how the street had been transformed with fake, rather drab 1970s storefronts and big, old cars and people who looked like 21st-century hippies. And there was that record shop again..."Aquarius Records," which was actually an existing shop that normally has something else inside of it (what, I can't remember). Everything looked a little bit different and more dilipidated than it's becoming already in 2008 with the current homeless problem.
Someone asked us to step across the street and they filmed a take while we watched. I think I saw Sean Penn, dressed up to look like Harvey Milk, standing in front of a shop that looked like an old campaign headquarters.
Cool! Was I the last to know about this?
Sunday, January 20, 2008
stop the clowns!
Recently, I read an article that revealed that children are terrified of clowns. Apparently, researchers in Britain did a study, and it turned out that 100% of the children in the survey said that they disliked clowns and thought they were scary. Whoops! That means we've been traumatizing generations of children by forcing them to interact with annoying, badly dressed, creepy-faced grownups....because someone assumed they'd like them.
Just think of the many assumptions that determine our available options -- from fashion to entertainment to lifestyle choices. For example, the assumption that women prefer the color pink for their clothes and accessories, while more tasteful color options are reserved only for men. Or that the only kind of music that Americans probably want to listen to fall into these four categories: Rap/hip hop, rock and roll, religious, or country-western, so radio stations and retail stores should follow accordingly. Or that everyone would rather drive a big, gas-guzzling car, making truly alternative vehicles impossible to find. We're defined and managed by other peoples' assumptions. Can't somebody just say "no" to the clowns?
Just think of the many assumptions that determine our available options -- from fashion to entertainment to lifestyle choices. For example, the assumption that women prefer the color pink for their clothes and accessories, while more tasteful color options are reserved only for men. Or that the only kind of music that Americans probably want to listen to fall into these four categories: Rap/hip hop, rock and roll, religious, or country-western, so radio stations and retail stores should follow accordingly. Or that everyone would rather drive a big, gas-guzzling car, making truly alternative vehicles impossible to find. We're defined and managed by other peoples' assumptions. Can't somebody just say "no" to the clowns?
Monday, January 14, 2008
You can't always vet what you want
If you haven't noticed, it's rather difficult to live in the 21st century without getting sucked into a cycle of wanting things that you might not need, or needing things that you might not want. Welcome to the system!
I like to think that I'm different...that I'm not as susceptible to the endless pressure to buy new things and discard the old ones. But the cycle of shopping and upgrading is built into most of the products we buy and the culture we live in.
For example, my main computer is pretty old. I bought it in 2001. It's got plenty of hard drive space left because I upgraded the internal hardware several times. But now it's getting slow and soon it will be a dinosaur, because its processor is already extinct. It has all the software I love to use, but soon those applications will be useless, too, because surreptitious updates will render them inoperable.
So now I find myself wanting a new computer....again. I don't want to want a new computer. They're expensive. My kitchen appliances are cheaper and they last forever in comparison. And until recently, televisions were the same way.
Imagine a world where every appliance, when plugged into the wall, gets delivered an update from its manufacturer that makes it stop functioning properly. "Hey, what's wrong with the coffeemaker this morning? It worked fine yesterday." "Sorry. The latest version of the coffeemaker brewing system requires you to update the wiring in your home. And also the shape of the outlets are going to change, so you'll need new plugs."
And televisions. I have a really old TV that won't die. It's square. It has a huge, bulky tube. I don't really want it anymore. But I'm trying to avoid the obvious next step: the flat-panel, widescreen TV. It's not that I don't think they're gorgeous and sleek: I do. It's not like I don't look at them often and wish I had one....are you kidding? It's that I'm trying not to get rid of yet another thing that isn't broken just so I can buy it again in a new package.
I don't want to spend my life shopping. I want to spend it enjoying what I have. Sure, I like to browse...but I want to do it on my terms ... not because I'm a puppet.
I've spent enough time living in Europe to enjoy simplicity in life. To not waste things. To not even want things. To expect change to unfold over time. But in American culture, it's hard to find a niche to accommodate this perspective.
I like to think that I'm different...that I'm not as susceptible to the endless pressure to buy new things and discard the old ones. But the cycle of shopping and upgrading is built into most of the products we buy and the culture we live in.
For example, my main computer is pretty old. I bought it in 2001. It's got plenty of hard drive space left because I upgraded the internal hardware several times. But now it's getting slow and soon it will be a dinosaur, because its processor is already extinct. It has all the software I love to use, but soon those applications will be useless, too, because surreptitious updates will render them inoperable.
So now I find myself wanting a new computer....again. I don't want to want a new computer. They're expensive. My kitchen appliances are cheaper and they last forever in comparison. And until recently, televisions were the same way.
Imagine a world where every appliance, when plugged into the wall, gets delivered an update from its manufacturer that makes it stop functioning properly. "Hey, what's wrong with the coffeemaker this morning? It worked fine yesterday." "Sorry. The latest version of the coffeemaker brewing system requires you to update the wiring in your home. And also the shape of the outlets are going to change, so you'll need new plugs."
And televisions. I have a really old TV that won't die. It's square. It has a huge, bulky tube. I don't really want it anymore. But I'm trying to avoid the obvious next step: the flat-panel, widescreen TV. It's not that I don't think they're gorgeous and sleek: I do. It's not like I don't look at them often and wish I had one....are you kidding? It's that I'm trying not to get rid of yet another thing that isn't broken just so I can buy it again in a new package.
I don't want to spend my life shopping. I want to spend it enjoying what I have. Sure, I like to browse...but I want to do it on my terms ... not because I'm a puppet.
I've spent enough time living in Europe to enjoy simplicity in life. To not waste things. To not even want things. To expect change to unfold over time. But in American culture, it's hard to find a niche to accommodate this perspective.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas was for the birds
I've been really busy and haven't had much time to write anything down. But I wanted to tell a story of two birds: the one I tried to save on Christmas, and the one I ate that same day.
First...I was walking to my flat in the middle of the afternoon, when I saw a crowd of people gathering in front of a driveway, snapping photos. What were they looking at? A bird. There was an injured hawk sitting in the driveway with a possibly broken leg. Everyone wanted a photo op with the bird and expressed sympathy for it, but as far as I could tell, nothing else had happened. So I called 411, got the T-Mobile operator, and asked for some kind of animal rescue phone number.
She patched me through to Animal Care and Control. Don't confuse them with the SPCA, who rescues, rehabilitates, and finds new homes for animals. However, the SPCA does not deal with hawks. Anyway, first the Animal Control person told me to pick up the hawk and put it in a box and bring it to her. But, as one of the bystanders said to me afterwards, "Isn't that their job? To pick up animals? How many city dwellers know how to pick up a hawk, anyway?"
Finally I got them to come out and get the bird, who had now figured out how to fly across the street, just to complicate things. It was hiding in a bush near a real-estate office. I hate it when hawks do that.
I waited till the Animal Care van arrived....the crowd of photo-takers left, expressing their regrets as they sped off to more important engagements, cell phones in hand. Eventually the woman arrived in the Animal Care van, and though she picked up the bird very gently and cradled it to her, she told me that the bird's leg was badly broken and that it was unlikely they could rehabilitate it. Which meant that I was sending it to its demise, which was not my intention. Perhaps it's better than dying an agonizing death from a voracious dog nipping at it or kids tormenting it or whatever....but I did think they'd make some effort to help it. Do they ever save an animal? Or should they be renamed "Animal Euthanasia and Control"?
Now, here comes the contradiction: I went to a Christmas dinner with some friends who invited me to share a dinner of goose with them. And I must say the goose was quite good....it tasted like chicken, only the meat was darker. It was delicious and as far as I'm concerned, if you're going to eat a big bird: skip the turkey, and go for the goose.
Yes, I know....it makes no sense. I spent my afternoon trying to save a bird, and then I ate one. But that's the paradox of the 21st century. We live in a world where people drive Hummers to the organic food shop. I am no better, I guess.
First...I was walking to my flat in the middle of the afternoon, when I saw a crowd of people gathering in front of a driveway, snapping photos. What were they looking at? A bird. There was an injured hawk sitting in the driveway with a possibly broken leg. Everyone wanted a photo op with the bird and expressed sympathy for it, but as far as I could tell, nothing else had happened. So I called 411, got the T-Mobile operator, and asked for some kind of animal rescue phone number.
She patched me through to Animal Care and Control. Don't confuse them with the SPCA, who rescues, rehabilitates, and finds new homes for animals. However, the SPCA does not deal with hawks. Anyway, first the Animal Control person told me to pick up the hawk and put it in a box and bring it to her. But, as one of the bystanders said to me afterwards, "Isn't that their job? To pick up animals? How many city dwellers know how to pick up a hawk, anyway?"
Finally I got them to come out and get the bird, who had now figured out how to fly across the street, just to complicate things. It was hiding in a bush near a real-estate office. I hate it when hawks do that.
I waited till the Animal Care van arrived....the crowd of photo-takers left, expressing their regrets as they sped off to more important engagements, cell phones in hand. Eventually the woman arrived in the Animal Care van, and though she picked up the bird very gently and cradled it to her, she told me that the bird's leg was badly broken and that it was unlikely they could rehabilitate it. Which meant that I was sending it to its demise, which was not my intention. Perhaps it's better than dying an agonizing death from a voracious dog nipping at it or kids tormenting it or whatever....but I did think they'd make some effort to help it. Do they ever save an animal? Or should they be renamed "Animal Euthanasia and Control"?
Now, here comes the contradiction: I went to a Christmas dinner with some friends who invited me to share a dinner of goose with them. And I must say the goose was quite good....it tasted like chicken, only the meat was darker. It was delicious and as far as I'm concerned, if you're going to eat a big bird: skip the turkey, and go for the goose.
Yes, I know....it makes no sense. I spent my afternoon trying to save a bird, and then I ate one. But that's the paradox of the 21st century. We live in a world where people drive Hummers to the organic food shop. I am no better, I guess.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Diary of a Bad Housekeeper
I have a lot of stuff. It's everywhere, crammed into every available nook and cranny in my 700-square-foot quarters. And I have reason to believe that if I had twice the space, I'd accumulate twice the stuff.
No, I'm not one of those crazy people who stacks the walkways with six-foot-high newspapers and other trash, nor do I bring home found objects from dumpsters or anything like that. I'm a keeper. I buy something, or someone gives me something, and if I'm not using it, I decide not to waste it (after all, I might have a need for it someday), or I feel guilty about getting rid of it (if it's a gift), and then after awhile....if I keep it long enough....it's so obsolete that it becomes a collector's item and then I feel like I really can't get rid of it.
One of my worst violations is hardware and software. I've kept an 11-year-old Mac 8500 and all the accompanying software to install on it again in case-- for some reason-- I feel like I need to go back in time to simpler (and often more functional) software, or retrieve a long-lost archive from one of my many hundreds of stored floppy-disk backups. Yes, my old Syquest drive ($500 when I bought it in the early '90s) is still stored in my closet, somewhere. My 10-year-old SCSI color scanner still sits on a cabinet, waiting for me to find an old photo to scan. And until recently, I had an army of stiff cardboard boxes filled with old software disks and manuals for software programs that dated back to when George Bush's pappy was president.
I'm trying to mend my ways. Really I am. I've been breaking down boxes and recycling them and those old software manuals. But I'm still hanging onto all those disks and installers. Somebody....talk some sense into me....please.
No, I'm not one of those crazy people who stacks the walkways with six-foot-high newspapers and other trash, nor do I bring home found objects from dumpsters or anything like that. I'm a keeper. I buy something, or someone gives me something, and if I'm not using it, I decide not to waste it (after all, I might have a need for it someday), or I feel guilty about getting rid of it (if it's a gift), and then after awhile....if I keep it long enough....it's so obsolete that it becomes a collector's item and then I feel like I really can't get rid of it.
One of my worst violations is hardware and software. I've kept an 11-year-old Mac 8500 and all the accompanying software to install on it again in case-- for some reason-- I feel like I need to go back in time to simpler (and often more functional) software, or retrieve a long-lost archive from one of my many hundreds of stored floppy-disk backups. Yes, my old Syquest drive ($500 when I bought it in the early '90s) is still stored in my closet, somewhere. My 10-year-old SCSI color scanner still sits on a cabinet, waiting for me to find an old photo to scan. And until recently, I had an army of stiff cardboard boxes filled with old software disks and manuals for software programs that dated back to when George Bush's pappy was president.
I'm trying to mend my ways. Really I am. I've been breaking down boxes and recycling them and those old software manuals. But I'm still hanging onto all those disks and installers. Somebody....talk some sense into me....please.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
smile doctor
I have a new dentist. This probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but I went to the same dentist for years and years....and then, when I changed jobs, I was far from her office, which was in the east bay. And my new job is in the opposite direction.
So....I went without a dentist for awhile. Then I started to search for one. But here's a tip: never, never pick a practitioner just because he or she is listed as a "preferred provider" by your insurer (or is the term "in network"?)! The people I contacted through my insurer weren't up for the job...they just charged the right price, apparently.
Finally I got a great recommendation for a dentist. He was downtown...in one of those big buildings filled with dentists and doctors. And I have to say....he was awesome! He showed me my teeth on a big flat-panel TV...in scary HD detail...did a complete exam, and even mailed me a comprehensive summary of the state of my gums, teeth, overbite, and more. I can get an appointment in a reasonable amount of time. And his staff seems to love their jobs. Not only that, they're hilarious.
This morning I had a filling done that I knew I needed before I found him. It took him 15 minutes...and he even gave me the novacaine I prefer....the kind *without* adrenaline in it. (For those of you who wonder why you feel so stressed in the dental chair: it might not be you. It just might be in that injection.) The nice thing about non-adrenalined novacaine is that it wears off in about an hour, so you're not slurring your words all day and trying to talk with a frozen face or crooked lips that feel like they're on someone else's face.
So....I'm happy with my dentist. My mouth will be in great shape, even though the rest of me is falling apart.
So....I went without a dentist for awhile. Then I started to search for one. But here's a tip: never, never pick a practitioner just because he or she is listed as a "preferred provider" by your insurer (or is the term "in network"?)! The people I contacted through my insurer weren't up for the job...they just charged the right price, apparently.
Finally I got a great recommendation for a dentist. He was downtown...in one of those big buildings filled with dentists and doctors. And I have to say....he was awesome! He showed me my teeth on a big flat-panel TV...in scary HD detail...did a complete exam, and even mailed me a comprehensive summary of the state of my gums, teeth, overbite, and more. I can get an appointment in a reasonable amount of time. And his staff seems to love their jobs. Not only that, they're hilarious.
This morning I had a filling done that I knew I needed before I found him. It took him 15 minutes...and he even gave me the novacaine I prefer....the kind *without* adrenaline in it. (For those of you who wonder why you feel so stressed in the dental chair: it might not be you. It just might be in that injection.) The nice thing about non-adrenalined novacaine is that it wears off in about an hour, so you're not slurring your words all day and trying to talk with a frozen face or crooked lips that feel like they're on someone else's face.
So....I'm happy with my dentist. My mouth will be in great shape, even though the rest of me is falling apart.
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