Mission Mission

Spotted this dude’s composition hat in the market between 17th and 18th on Mission (next to Cafe Prague) a few nights ago and couldn’t resist getting a snap.  I’m no fashion blogger, but I was into it.

Speaking of that there market, Ariel tells us it’s his all-time favorite, top secret awesomest market, often referred to as “Combover” or “Crackistan.”

Judging by the 28 people standing in line to buy booze that night, I’d say secret’s out, dumb-dumb.

A handsome color scheme for Halberstadt’s Fencing Club on S. Van Ness. Ever notice how it matches that of the “No Dumping” notices by sewer drains?

I never noticed this place before, but according to Yelp, it’s legit:

This is where I go for a great workout and to blow off some steam.  There’s nothing better than grabbing a sword and stabbing someone to make you forget about the work day.

It’s no secret that I’m a sword owner now. Maybe I should take up fencing? After all what’s more macho than a shrimpy, shirtless, asian man brandishing a foil?

Oh wait:

We all had a laugh at “Ecosexuality” a couple of days ago, but as it turns out, it’s a real thing and the event in question will be in the Mission at the Lab on Feb 13!

In celebration of Valentine’s Day and this new decade pregnant with possibilities for change and transformation, acclaimed performance artist and sex educator Annie Sprinkle and her partner, interdisciplinary artist and activist Elizabeth Stephens, take you on a joyous and inspiring journey as they explore, generate, and celebrate love through art. They will weave their amazing stories, share some dazzling images, and do mini-performances about their experiments in romance, artificial insemination, breast cancer, sex education, performance art weddings, and other love-inspired projects. Currently investigating “ecosexuality,” these two dynamic women are mapping a new field of research they coined “sexecology” — the place where sexology and ecology intersect. Perhaps you’ll discover that you, too, are an ecosexual.

There will also be an erotic cake contest. Go ahead and fork over the 7-10 dollarónes just so you can sit in the back, cross your arms with a smug half-smile, and act like you are sooo above this. More info at the Lab.

(Hey, if this is your bag, it’s none of my business. It’s 2010 and we are a kinder, more sensitive Mission Mission.)

I came across this screengrab of a Yahoo! Answers question on fatpita.net and chuckled:

Reminds me of a  great conversation I had with some dude at the Eats Tapes show at the Kitsch Gallery on Saturday.  Said gent explained to me that though the music had slowed for a moment, the DJ would soon pick a specific theme to fixate on and slowly build it faster and louder, until it exploded into a party and we all went crazy dancing.  That’s how techno works.

Oh, and Allan was right.  Eats Tapes are awesome.

What to do when the forecast is calling for rain all week to go with the already dreary January temperature?  Why not try the Mission’s answer to hot chocolate, a nice steaming cup of CHAMPURRADO.  A soul-warming melange of  hominy masa, piloncillo, cinnamon, chocolate, and milk; this beverage is available at several places in the area but my favorite source is the doorway stand at Taqueria Vallarta ($2).

There’s just something innately wholesome about being served this thick, rich beverage and walking off into the evening being comforted by its warm and wafting embrace.  Of course you could also just hang out in the restaurant and sample the delicacies of “Noah’s Ark” while checking out the acid binge that is their mural.

Some seriously shreddin’ classical players are playing tonight at Amnesia, of all places!

First is Phyllis Chen, virtuoso classical/experimental pianist. Did I mention she plays her pieces on the TOY PIANO?

Next, German cellist (and apparent hottie) Johannes Moser. If the youtube comments on this guy are true, he’ll melt your face AND your heart:

Between this and Classical Revolution, there has been an increasingly strong presence of classical music in the mission. It seems as though a lot of those conservatory students are in need an outlet that isn’t playing Pachabel’s Canon at a wedding and are taking it to the dives.

Say here’s a tip: bring a date that you’re trying to impress with your “sensitive artiste” side. At some point during the show, gently close your eyes and mime some conducting movements with your hands. If that doesn’t seal the deal, try shaving off that goddamned beard.

Amnesia is on Valencia b/t 19th and 20th. Show starts at 9pm and costs $7-$10.

I’ve been looking for this song all week, and finally found it just now deeep in some Google search results, on SF Weekly’s All Shook Down of all places. Jay posted it on his blog a couple summers ago saying something like that it was just a modest little experiment. It’s an oddity in that it’s got a girl singing most of the vocals and is kind of upbeat and sweet: “In Heaven” by Jay Reatard is here.

Photo of Jay Reatard at 12 Galaxies by ElectrikCandyland (from the set Bands).

Previously:

RIP Jay Reatard

RIP 12 Galaxies

Burrito Justice dug up some ancient BART concept art, lookin’ like straight out of TRON. If you think proposals 1 and 2 are nice, wait’l you see them alongside 3, 4 and 5.

Previously:

BART Badges

BART Swing

BART Boner

Local rock ‘n’ roll band My First Earthquake is putting its money where its name is, for for the remainder of January they are sending all proceeds from sales of their album Downstairs to Haitian earthquake victims.

AND, it’s pay-what-you-will style, so you can help the Haitians a lot or a little, and either way you walk away with some music. Pay up!

Today, Rosamunde Sausage Grill opened its new location at Mission south o’ 24th. Diverse experiences dictate diverse format: three sausages, three opinions.

Jen Gann: I got really anxious while waiting to order at the new Rosamunde location. Maybe it’s because the huge space allows for too many competing possibilities to swoop in. Finally, I decided on the Chicken Cherry sausage. I like sweet and savory. Unfortunately, I think I picked the wrong accompaniments. While the hot peppers were good (what hot peppers aren’t?), the grilled onions were somehow ill-defined and flat. The sausage itself was much better, with a pleasing texture and tasty bits of cherry. The toasted bun ruled. I regretted not ordering a beer but luckily, someone was nice enough to let me take a few sips (or a lot) of his.

David Cole: Great hopes! Great hopes of mine were dashed on this — this most wet of MLKJDs. The culprit: weisswurst with grilled onions; and an accomplice: potato salad. I ignored their veal’s reputation (mainly because I found out about its reputation after I finished eating). I am generally a fan of the stuff but my sausage had little flavor and the grilled onions were (as previously alluded to) unmanageably large and similarly flavorless. Okay, but potato salad is an easy victory for me. What! Filled with rubbery bacon and eerily slimy, Rosamunde’s potato salad was similarly disappointing. I’m convinced I would enjoy a different order and I plan to find out in the near future. Plusses: lots of seating, beers, beers, beers.

Tag Savage: Pork is a pretty reliable meat. It’s sweet and vaguely tropical and stands up to rough treatment. Unadventurous, then, I got the Hungarian sausage. It is smoked. It was snappy and butch. The buns at Rosamunde have a nice open crumb to them, and they are rigid enough to handle the heft of your meat but spongy enough to allow gobbling. Perhaps you can tell: I am a violent eater. I know well enough to skip the grilled onions at Rosamunde—they are slippery and bland—but the sauerkraut, which is oddly dry but still vivid and tangy, was as good as I remember. And yeah, the hot pepper mix is surprising in a sort of old-world way. Chunks of carrot and celery in it. It’s almost a brothless soup.

The new location feels like Cancun turned 90 degrees, a bunch of picnic tables crammed too close, forcing you to drop scarves and things into your neighbors’ food, forcing you to bang your butt into your neighbors’ heads every time you stand. Under certain circumstances this will feel convivial. There is also a table made from very large tree stump. It is very low to the ground, which means a long treacherous journey for your sausage as it travels from the tray to your mouth. Certainly pants are going to get ruined.

There is also a bar. The bar has bunches of beer and bunches of wine. The introduction of wine means that your can bring you mom. As of today, it was a more tolerable, if less novel, experience than the Toronado-annex situation in the Lower Haight. There are big windows and the light that comes through them is cottony and appetite-making. Toronado, by contrast, has a putrid bluish light that I wish they would do something about. I had a Damnation ale from Russian River Brewing. It was hella ripe, tasted like licking pear pulp from between someone’s very clean fingers. Not bad. Didn’t really go with my sausage, by that’s no one’s fault but my own.

Photography courtesy of Amandine Circumflex.