Another year, another batch of street fires and riot cops. Here’s some of the craziness I saw on Mission St shortly after the Giants won the World Series. If for some reason, Wigglegrams aren’t your thing… and that’s a big if… I’ve posted more shots on Flickr.

Big thanks to Photoworks SF for supporting these 3D City columns. Ever since I’ve been shooting film, Photoworks has been my go to place for developing and scans.

Another Valentine’s Day, another massive Pillow Fight in Justin Herman Plaza. This year I brought my Nimslo camera and a roll of Fuji’s 800 ISO film. These explosions of feathers and streaks of light are what I came back with. Since this is my fifth installment of 3D City, I’ve also attached a little bonus image at the bottom. It’s an unedited scan, so you can see how the shots look straight off my camera.

And here’s an un-edited scan from my Nimslo. As you can see, it takes 4 side by side shots simultaneously, which I line up and turn into animated gifs. Every 3D pic on a Nimlso camera takes up the space of 2 normal 35mm shots (using 4 half frame shots). I’m working on making a little how-to video for aspiring 3D photogs too, if anyone is interested. As I mentioned before, this is my 5th column in this year long project, so I’ve decided to launch a small Patreon to help cover the cost of film. For those not familiar with Patreon, it’s like a crowdfunded tip jar to help keep projects like this going. If you are interested in helping, you can check it out here.

Go Giants!

As many a southern transplant knows, it’s damn near impossible to find a decent plate of rolled tacos in San Francisco. Primarily the provenance of SoCal surf shacks, those golden cylinders of high-octane awesome heaped high with cheese and guacamole are few and far between in The Mission’s culinary burritoscape.

For everyone who’s ever craved a clutch of fried taco glory, Taqueria el Buen Sabor has you covered. All of the essential components are there – crispy deep fried tacos inundated with a wanton mess of lechuga, crema, guacamole, and queso.

It’s hanging out across from the Lex at 19th and Valencia if anyone wants to go throw a brat on.

As a city cyclist, I count my blessings every time I go to mount up and my saddle hasn’t been stolen. Imagine my surprise today when I walked outside Atlas Cafe to unlock and found my seat had been upgraded with a snappy red rain cover! Of course, the altruistic act came with a pitch – Timbuk2‘s ninjas stealthily distributed the seat covers in support of a sale – but who can complain when a random act of kindness wards off a soggy bum? With this week’s dismal forecast we can all use an extra bit of shelter.

3 SECONDS

Although well tempered to their natural environs, Pauline’s gourmet pizza pies were annihilated within seconds of leaving the womb during their 25th anniversary free pizza party this week. A freezing frenzy of pizza predators descended upon them, and as the video shows it wasn’t a pretty sight. The staff cranked out upwards of 300 pies over 3 hours – four times the average order for a Tuesday evening. Bravo, Pauline’s!

In case you wanted to know, Maxfield’s House of Caffeine at 17th/Dolores is now your go-to place for all “analog text message” cheesecake conventions. Commenter A should have done their homework, but we’ll forgive them because the analog message boards of yesteryear regrettably don’t come with Google built-in.

So how do you feel about digital cheesecake?

See if you can spot Sexy P.

Dave Chappelle caught me slyly trying to take a picture of him while we were each eating dinner at Pakwan.  He came over to the table and asked to see it.  Unimpressed by my photographic aptitude, he then asked me to delete it.

As I complied with his request and stammered an apology, a single grain of rice flew from my mouth and landed on the shoulder of his black sweater.  I wasn’t sure if he saw it or not, but I couldn’t take the risk, so I reached up and attempted to brush it off.  Naturally, that darn stubborn kernel wasn’t going anywhere.

Chappelle noticed and said, “I don’t even mind that you just spit a piece of rice on me.  Happens all the time.”  He pointed out that I didn’t really need to delete the photos since he was in a public space after all, but it was cool I did and that I should come outside for a real picture after he finished his cigarette.

When I walked out, I didn’t see him anywhere and figured I’d been duped by a master.  But then Mr. Chappelle emerged from a shiny black Escalade and said, “I wasn’t gonna flake on you.”  As my buddy snapped a photo of us, the beleaguered superstar muttered, “People are terrible.  There, I said it.”

Sorry for ruining your dinner Dave!  We all love you here in the Mission!  Please come back soon!

[Chappelle on 16th by jacobchills]

This is my fully edited account of the early morning efforts of the March 19 San Francisco Day of Direct Action. In it, you’ll find decked-out riot police, a brass band, more twirlers, demonstrating in front inflatable water slide of Chevron, a cable car, more Frank Chu, the Transamerica Pyramid, dancing in the streets, yelling in the streets, posters, signage, bloody hands, people in pink, motorcycles on sidewalks, blockaded intersections, and more — all set to the tune of “Big Ideas” by LCD Soundsystem.

Link to yesterday’s coverage.

Link to response at Curbed SF in which they’re debating the hipster question.

Link to Bay Area Direct Action.

I’ve noticed the droves of young females who spend their nights at Beauty Bar. It’s mainly young undergrads who’ve recently migrated from Southern California to a three-bed share in the Tenderloin. Their version of the Mission is meeting friends at Puerto Allegre for uninteresting margaritas and enchiladas, then shaking their shoulders with some date-rape shirt to some sub-par DJ at Beauty Bar. A few months go by, and they’re standing in the cocaine line at Delirium wondering if the douchebag in the corner with the purple kerchief sitting pretty on his scruffy, smelly neck is checking out her American Apparel sangria-colored tights. Do these tourists make the Mission, or does the Mission make the tourist?

It’s been five years since the city knocked down the Fell Street Off-Ramp. The Octavia corridor is all vibrant and everything, and Market Street is prettier or whatever. But I still recall when, as a teenager in Sacramento, the only thing to do on the weekend was head to SF for 1.) an Amoeba run, and, often 2.) show at Bottom of the Hill. This translated to a fair amount of time on the Fell Street Off-Ramp. As soon as it broke from the freeway proper, it began snaking past buildings, tearing around corners, flying high over Market, thru the treetops, within *inches* of the First Baptist Church’s big dome. And then it set you down gently, kitty corner from Il Borgo. It made a Volvo station wagon feel like the Batwing.

Anyway, it was on one such trip that we really discovered the Mission for the first time. After Amoeba, we cruised up Stanyan to 17th Street, came down that great big hill into the Castro, and cruised through the Mission en route to a Fucking Champs show I think. Looking out the window up and down Dolores and then Valencia and then Mission was like finding a hidden prehistoric valley. We found an apartment here as soon as we could.