Monday, October 12th
Another foggy and cloudy morning with temps in high 50s. The clouds look like they are going to be around most of the day. The usual this AM: journal, email, Farley's and then some grocery shopping at Trader Joes.
Click on the photos below for a larger image.
The Trader Joes on 9th Street is just over a mile away from Bruce's - close enough to make it seem unnecessary to take a bus, but just far enough away that it involves a bit of walk while lugging groceries. I was only getting a few things, so I decided to walk.
This bench caught my eye because of the use of ferns for adornment.
Traders Joe's was packed, which I now understand is normal. I was able to get my box of cereal and half gallon of milk into my day pack and I strapped the sourdough baguette to the sides and I was on my way home.
Once back I reorganized and get ready to head down to the Mission. I was to meet Joe Donohoe who publishes a magazine called "Specious Species". So, I decided I would contact Joe and arrange to pick up a copy at around 4:00.
On my way down to where Joe lives I saw a coupla things of interest for the camera including the velour blanket covered homeless person and all their worldly possessions jammed into and hanging off of, a shopping cart.
I presumed this was gang tagging. It was heavier here than any other place I had seen.
Now just tossed aside from one of the Mission Street movie palaces, these seats of a thousand thrills have suffered a sad fate.
Joe was kind enough to inscribe my copy of Specious Species which I then stowed in my butt pack. From Joes place I then went out in search of some nourishment.
I cannot describe what kind of magazine it is as I really don't know. However, I can easily say it is a labor of the love. This particular issue - #3, is 130 pages, with 15 articles and has some interesting artwork and is a steal at 5 bucks. This issue has an interview with Don Herron ans I was interested in reading, thus my wanting to buy a copy.
Joe was kind enough to inscribe my copy which I then stowed in my butt pack. From Joes place I then went out in search of some nourishment.
I will let this email I sent to Joe tell the rest of the story.
Hey Joe,
After I left your place today I started out in search of some grub. Although only 4pm I was ready to eat.After wandering aimlessly for a half hour or so I passed by El Trebol where Steven and I had eaten just the week before.
The thought of some tasty pupusas and a cold Negro Modelo sent me through the door and to the same table where Steven and I had enjoyed our dinner.
As I waited for my victuals I retrieved my newly acquired and inscribed copy of SS and turned to the Herron interview.
While I sat there, sipping on my beer and reading Don's remembrances of Gary Warne, I felt transported. Perhaps it was only the beer going straight to my head but I felt as if I was floating and everything took on a somewhat strange, surreal quality. To add to the feeling the sounds of Abba suddenly filled the room. As I sat there, gazing out the window and enjoying this feeling who should wander into my field of view by The Reverend Mr. Black himself, moving briskly up the street with a barely discernible, but beatific smile on his face
Then I came back from wherever I had been, finished my meal and departed.
