Mind where you place your shovel.
Lower Haight, didn’t feel like queuing for Kate’s.
Sure, even you.
The indelible beauty of toilet paper, thrown with the gusto of the newly empowered Giants fans: do not underestimate the simple poetry of these absurdities as the wind whips our shouts and chants to the other side of the city, where surely the same scene is mirrored in orange and black.
Mad Dog in the Fog’s bartender is underappreciated. Should you be watching tonight’s game at that bar, thank him for his finessing of a popular sentiment.
My, but what verbose windows you have!
Skate camp, Lower Haight edition.
Nominating this for an AIGA award (neighborhood strife category).
The only thing I could have done tonight, I did. Nice to meet you, haighteration, et al, you do good work. Impressed with HSM at Haight and Steiner, a company started nigh 50 or 60 years ago by the current owners’ gran—good hosts, all around.
So. The result of getting residents, merchants, and potential business owners into a discussion: an impossibly positive and non-snarky environment where some real ideas got batted around. Makes me wish I had money to put down; but we all know that’s not enough.
What I can do is this: I ask you, make eye contact, see the good and potential, do not cede your anger to bitterness. You know how small this city is, don’t mess around. Where do we go from here?
San Francisco, enough already.
Welcome Lower Haight’s best new gallery.
The hushed bellow of the jungle, the trumpet of the pachyderm, the sonority of corduroy on rusting steel.
That’s more Bavarian than German, but we understand the sentiment.
Don’t talk to me about how you kids lock up these days, no, I don’t want to hear it. You don’t know nothing from nothing.