Mission Mission

Check out this amazing shot from good ol’ Bob/bats… in Dolores Heights.

Click for big.

These cute little burnouts have been popping up around town reminding me to blaze my daze away. Seen here in Hayes Valley, but a French one hit me up in the bathroom at Dalva right before Mario jumped in and took care of business. Got it?

How many bikes are in this photo?

The number of differing intentions on this little patch of wall is exhilarating.

From the comments thread of the previous post, Christopher F. Smith‘s fine tale of a 16th and Mission original.

Here’s the thing. Many property owners in San Francisco seem to think that life size owl statues placed as if perching on the edge of the rooftops will be a deterrent to the local pigeon population. I can go along with that as an idea. The scarecrow, right? Sounds good. But does it actually work? Internet people, via search engines, seem to think that they don’t work unless they’re selling them.

I decided to do something similar to what an actual journalist would do and took a look around.

Here we find a little trio (they’re not a “gang” just because they’re chilling together) relaxing on some garbage cans under the watchful eyes of the owl. No threat here. No thought that the “owl”, a natural predator, would ever swoop down and snatch them up. Are they co-existing or do they even notice?

Here we see two pigeons hanging with two owls. No problem. Everyone’s cool. Jokes on us, they’re actually having a good time together. They enjoy the company.

My thought, the pigeons (Rock Dove sounds nicer) are such urban creatures that they don’t recognize that the owls are supposed to resemble another bird. They think it’s part of a Community Thrift pickup that was left behind. They’d no sooner expect it to come down upon them like a fierce beast of fury than they would cower under an old broken Mr. Coffee.

What do you people think? In any case, I enjoy seeing fake owls around. I think we should mix it up, though. A vulture here and there. Maybe two swans to make pigeons fall in love. A dodo to make them feel superior. Then a peacock to bring them back down to size.

There’s a new place to get your new bag in The Mission. Former Chrome bagmakers (bagsmiths?) have opened their own bageria, Mission Workshop, located right down the alley from Esta Noche.

They design their bags (and jackets, coming soon) right there in the ol’ warehouse, and have them manufactured in the U. S. of A. Colorado, I believe. Anyway, the bags are big and cool looking and weatherproof and seem expensive but are probably somewhat reasonable. $275ish? $239? For made in USA? And hardy? I dunno. I’m not that picky about apparel.

The coolest thing to me is that they’re planning monthly art shows, film screenings, and/or BBQ’s. In fact, this Thursday (7/15) they’re having a free BBQ and beer bash from your afterwork time to the late evening time (“happy hour time”). Plus art from Nate Smith and Caleb Sheridan. Should be sweet.

As a side note, doesn’t it seem like our neighborhood is racking up quite a list of logos and products/companies bearing it’s name? Is someone keeping a list? It’s rivaling my home town in its bumper sticker visibility.

Levi’s really stirs it up in people.

Chalk hieroglyphics.

You can’t get mad, it washes right off.

I’ve had some exceptional luck lately, running into two different local bluesmen, each willing to share a couple songs and some knowledge about the proper way to tame a harmonica.

The Blues Man of 16th Street offered to teach me how to bend a note. Usually I carry my own harmonica around, but on this night it was sitting in my desk drawer. When he told him that I’m trying to learn, but won’t ever be able to play like him he quickly replied “Yes you can. Yes you can. You just gotta keep at it.” And then, “always have your harmonica with you, you never know when inspiration will strike you. I always play my own stuff [even though he's demonstrating something different here, just for instructional purposes]. Your music is yours,” he said, patting me on the chest, “it comes from you.”

(Sorry the videos are dark. Unfortunately that’s my dopey voice you hear in the background)

Next, Drake Dillen, who lived on Valencia near 22nd a few decades ago while doing construction work, played me a few of his old favorites. He had a falling out with his brother and had to leave the city, fell on some hard times, got into some trouble, and finally made his way back to the city to, possibly, sing out the blues into the cool foggy nights.