Monday, April 30, 2007
My cousin had an amazing old-skool organ in his basement. He got it free at a yard sale in Pueblo--one of the great things about living in a small town is that you are more likely to get in on a lucky find. I could only imagine what this could have fetched in SF on kitsch value alone. I mean, look at the font for the name. C'mon!
I only had time to mess with it for a few minutes, but I can only imagine that the full sound effect had a lot of magic.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
Let me start this by saying I love Friday the 13th. I always wear black and make a lot of bad jokes that involve my patented malevolent laugh at the end. Today when I went to leave I found the vagabond cat that spends time at our place (she doesn't live here but has her own entrance and we feed her--she's the landlord's cat maybe?) as you see her above. Black cats rule.
Today my wonderful black celebration was ruined. Pardon my over-dramatic turn here. My cousin who had been struggling for a few months now was found dead by his own hand. He was a really cool, articulate guy who could keep up a conversation with anyone and was deadly funny. In the early '90s I went out for an extended visit to Colorado to get over a girl, and he (along with all of my family out there) was key in my getting over her (and myself) and getting back on track. I never would have made it out to NYC and infamy if I hadn't spent time shooting the shit with him, being an annoying vegetarian who rarely drank, and I will always remember him and love him for that. Even when he had a picture of Oliver North on his wall, all I could do was laugh because while I know he respected Crazy Ollie for his loose cannon ways, I always thought that it was kind of a joke that he was making--poking at anyone who would ruffle at the sight.
I knew he was in trouble when he emailed me a few months ago. I'd never gotten an email from him and his words were all hopeful, but wild in the way of someone who was clawing to find some way to keep on. We exchanged emails for a few weeks, and I purposefully kept it on specific topics that weren't what was going on with him. When he went away to the hospital after a bad bout, I emailed him and just let him know that I wanted him around the next time I went out to visit, to take care of himself. I didn't hear from him again. And when I got a call last night that he had been missing I knew inside that he wasn't going to be there anymore.
So I apologize again for this dour turn from the usual robot and grafitti antics. I have some great news that I will post later, but I wanted to memorialize him and get it out of my head for a while.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
One of the few nice things about walking to the BART at 6:45 in the morning is walking past a huge church with a glowing "chubby Buddha." I know, there really isn't a corpulent Buddha--it's Hotei, a god of luck in Japanese mythology and Budai, a wandering monk from 9th century China.
Whatever he is, I am cheered on these dark and dreary mornings of daylight savings as I trudge up 22nd St. and see his smile of encouragement. Thanks chubby Buddha!
Monday, April 09, 2007
So I know this picture makes my guilty pleasure look as bad as Kurt Russell's nachos in Death Proof, but I swear these breakfast chilaquiles are delicious. On my little vacation back to Houston to remind Sara that she is still married to me we went to Buffalo Grille and I totally over-indulged. In fact, I am still paying for it with a creeping case of slow burn just above my heart.
If you've never had these little infernos--eggs on top of tortilla strips that have been soaked in hot lava juice--make sure you find a good first place to try them. I had some in SF that were fairly mediocre, and it is oh so important to be sure you get a good batch the first time. Well, maybe that would be a bad thing since you may turn into a zombie like me, craving chilaquiles whenever they are near. BRAINS!
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
This is a taqueria just up the street from me in SF. I have to admit that I've never seen many of these things on a menu. Guess I've never lived in the Inner Mission before, huh? I tried the barbacoa, which is the inside cheek, and it was as tender as you would think. But it's best not to think. I have to admit that I couldn't even imagine trying ojo or buche, but maybe I should. For $1.50 I should try everything on the menu!
I've eaten camel sausage, kangaroo in a salad, emu burgers, barbecued and boiled dog, snake blood wine, pidgeon kebabs, bison burgers, and water buffalo roast (came sizzlin' hot and just in time after two months of no meat in India).
Is there anything you wouldn't eat? Besides feces, of course.