It’s a sad story, about the love between the city and a writer who wants to love the city, but just can’t remember how. Or maybe it’s not even that complicated.
Read on over at SFist.com for the final installment of Urbane Studies. Thanks for everything, guys.
This week’s Urbane Studies should be accompanied by an over-sugared vanilla hazelnut coffee from Happy Donuts.
Revolt, drag, drugs, and true love: all will be revealed in this week’s Urbane Studies.
Well that was exciting.
And so was Jones Street: read all about it over at SFist.
This week’s column over at SFist is without bodega, without bar: just as well to work rather than play. And for anyone sitting in a parklet going on about parks for people, green is good, click through, let us show you the ways in which Boeddeker Park is a complete disaster. Parks are useless as bandages if you put the wrong kinds on the wrong wounds.
Did you notice the writer’s strike? No? It consisted mainly of a single writer not writing, but now that’s all sorted out so you can continue to ignore the weekly column over at SFist.
Have you been to Wilson & Wilson? Have you wandered up and down the street waiting for the place to open, chatting with the locals, waiting for the crowd loudly checking phones just outside the speakeasy door to dissipate, wondering why you bother? You really should go. Read on.
If it’s Monday, then it’s time for Urbane Studies at SFist. Incidentally, there’s a reason why no one can remember those little details I’m always harping on like some kind of lesser Frank O'Hara. Scientists say we’re hardwired to remember the more emotionally charged events of our life. All well and good, but some days all it takes is a guava popsicle and a lovely view. Here’s to lowered expectation!
Sascha spoke of conspiracy and UFOs, CIA chemtrails and the balls of flame that light up the hotel at night. Good to have friends in the neighborhood. You don’t know it? Let’s learn more about Ellis & Leavenworth, shall we?
Raymond has lived in the Cadillac for a while, enjoys their free concerts. I told him I don’t normally take portraits, but he said he was feeling pretty good, and that I should take his picture. Best smile in the TL on a 70-something degree day. Read on at SFist.
The Maryland Market is among the best in the neighborhood, if only for the beverage case: Cristal Negra soda, Inca Cola, and once I swear I saw Kolachampan, that Salvadoran elixir. Across the street, one can buy VHS copies of some of Stallone’s lesser films; t-shirts, cellphone chargers, Viccodin. So go back to the Maryland, stand in admiration of its southern wall: a warm-paletted Mondrian across the Cola signage, Maryland all free and easy, Market steady and controlled. As for the other three corners? Read on.
The cats in this photograph are unrelated to the cats written about here.
Rather too early in the morning to put this sort of thing in one’s mouth, but nevermind.
Covering a shift over at SFist, pushing my agenda, which includes this sort of thing.
PICKLEBACKING
“L.A. isn’t beautiful, and Angelenos know it." Meanwhile, in San Francisco, Hyde & Golden Gate offers its rejoinder.
“ Until the twelfth of never and that’s a long, long time”
The stories, they are many. Read more in today’s Urbane Studies column.
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