Posts Tagged ‘Sunday Streets’

Fun?

July 29, 2013

What the fuck is fun?

It was suggested to me yesterday that I get some more fun in my life.

Well, damn it, I was busy working on figuring it out, yeah, I know, figure it out is not a slogan, fuck off.

But really?

Fun?

What do I do for fun?

I was writing this morning and trying to not get too twisted in figuring out what I was going to do with my day.  I knew I had a commitment to attend to at 6:30 p.m. and that after that I was going to have dinner with a dear friend that just relocated back to San Francisco.

Welcome home!

So glad you are back.

That is fun, getting together with my friends, sharing memories, and stories, swapping tales over a meal.

But I digress, I am not to the fun yet.

First the litter boxes must be cleaned and the cats watered, fed, and let out to play in the back yard.  The bed needs to be stripped and the sheets tossed through the laundry and since I like to leave it better than I found it, take out  the recycling and tidy up the kitchen.

Done.

Fueled by a French press pot of Four Barrel, that was almost fun.

But not quite.

I could watch Netflix.

Damn you, who turned me onto the West WIng?

That is not fun, I mean, it sort of is, but it’s more like checking out than it is fun.

So I just continued on with my morning, tidying, straightening, doing laundry, et al.

Writing.

There is always the writing.

There is the blogging, the morning pages, and what ever comes next as far as the creative process goes (I have some ideas) and as I was scribbling away in my notebook I realized, hey, when was the last time I went on an artist date?

The DeYoung Museum is pretty close, just popped into my head.

I have no clue why, although when I poked my head into the cafeteria before I went through the museum I realized that hmm, I might have had some ulterior motives, the Mister works from the DeYoung on the occasion, I just went with it.

I finished up the clean up, made the bed, and scooted off on my bicycle for an afternoon of art amongst the tourists.

Lot of French people, of which I actually had a conversation with one in front of the museum as I was framing a shot of my bike.

DeYoung Musuem

My bike at the DeYoung

It reminded me of having taken a photograph of my bicycle in front of the Louvre and also at the Palais de Tokyo in Paris.

I like that, let me take photographs of my bike in front of all the museums I bicycle to.  Then I will post up a photo blog of them all.

In fact, I was thinking as I stood and got good and art high, why not go to all the museums I can over the next few weeks.

I have not been to the Legion of Honor in years, I have only gone once (I could have gotten in today with my ticket stub from the DeYoung, but I was too pooped after having made three rounds through the DeYoung to bike out to the Legion), I can ride my bike there for sure.

I have not been to the MOMA for a while, over nine months, almost ten.

I bet there’s a museum or two in Oakland I could go to.

I started getting ideas and liking them more and more.

Going to museums is fun.

For me.

I don’t think it is for everyone, I think it can be a bit of a chore.

But I go for the high and the high always happens.

I got it today in front of the Edward Hopper “Esso” painting which I had never seen before.  God damn I love his work.

I also got it when I walked into a gallery that was devoted to Chilully glass works, which were cool and distinctive and I found quite attractive, but they did not give the me high, rather the light and glass mobile installation hanging from the ceiling is what got me off.

Oh yes, that’s right, I got off.

I walked into the room, my eyes were drawn up and I said, out loud, “oh my god, that is amazing.”

I stood under the lights transfixed.

Segue–how glad am I to get to go to Burning Man?

Lights

Lights

This photograph does not do justice to the magic that is happening, the shadows, the luminosity of the glass, the way the light bends around the shape of the container and sprays a new shard of light off a round edge, the entire ceiling was amassed with bulbs off glass that looked like rain drops and then everything was over lit with white light.

The shadows on the walls were enough to transfix me for some time.

God damn I love art.

I also really love the observation deck at the DeYoung and as I stood on the looking out over the park and the neighborhoods I ruminated on getting one of the blow up posters of the aerial maps of San Francisco for my new studio.

Just something to think about.

I also debated getting a refrigerator magnet, but truth be told, the ones that they had were not appealing, I spent a bit of time raking through the gift stores too.

I can window shop like a motherfucker in a museum gift shop.

I saw one art book I was quite tempted to purchase and I think I shall go back for, but knowing that I have only so much room in my messenger bag and I was to be heading back to East Oakland this evening (fully ensconced back at Graceland as I type) I deigned to buy it.

I left the museum satisfied, satiated, filled up with light and colors and sculpture and hopped on my bicycle to enjoy the remainder of Sunday Streets in the Golden Gate Park.

A quick spin through the fog and back to my day.

That was fun.

Let’s see what I can come up with for tomorrow.

Oh, and, hey you!  Yes, you.

If you have any ideas, let me know, I’ve got two weeks of down time and I am up for seeing and doing more fun stuff.

Thanks!

Joan and Tami and Beth

June 2, 2012

Oh my.

I got to see some of my favorite ladies tonight.  Plus Carolyn and Stephanie and Nikki and Bonnie and Amy and Rae and Lisa.

It was a ladies fest.

Or Bitches and Burgers, as it’s also known as.  I normally do not hit up the Bitches and Burgers on Friday nights, and ladies, I know it’s at Burgermeister, but it should probably be re-named Bitches with Salads.  I think I saw one burger amongst the lot of you–and I think it was a veggie burger.

None the less, the Beegees were on the juke box and there was much laughter, a few tears, loads of hugs, and lots of good old-fashioned girliness happening.

I left early to get home to write, load photographs and eat my evening snack before retiring.  I have a day tomorrow.  I have a day tomorrow that I feel like I already need to be girding my loins for.

It is just KFox and I at the shop.

Two ladies, no guys, no mechanics, no back up.

Slangin’ bikes.

Bitches be makin’ it happen.

Actually I love working with Kristin we are on the same wave length and we end up working really well together.  Once I got past the minute jealousy of working with the tiniest girl ever, well, not ever, but man she is small, I got into working a groove with her and we do well.

I think because there is no bullshit.  It is cut to the chase and make it happen.  I have learned a lot from her design aesthetic, in fact I did a really awesome bike design today utilizing her strategy of color palette and it went from being a cool looking bike to a wow bike with a few tweaks.

I had him on the fence and the design was not going well, he wanted a bike, but his color choices were not leading him down the right path.  So, we backed up and I stole some Kristin tips and next thing you know, complete redesign and an exceedingly happy customer who happily, and I mean happily, dropped $1600 on a one speed bike.

Tami nodded sagely when I was telling her about work, “you are great at retail,” she said.

I am?

Who knew?

I always rather looked down my nose at retail, but it turns out I am pretty good at selling shit.  I feel like it’s partially because I have only so much money I spend on extraneous things and I know quality.  I know what nice feels like.  I don’t often buy it, but when I do I love it and I know how that feeling is.

That makes me relatable.  Plus, I don’t work on commission so there’s no pressure to up sell.  I do if it makes sense to do so and the person is for it.  I am not a pressure tactics type of sales person.  In fact, I am sort of blase at times, I know the bike is quality, I am not going to shove it down your throat.

I have had a couple of people ask me to “convince them” and I just want to say, “fuck off.”  Don’t waste my time.  I am not interested in pursuing your sale.  Your money or you need to be told how much sunshine is coming out your ass. I rather take offense at it.  And it’s typically with people who don’t know their ass from a hedge.

Hole in the ground is so yesterday.

Oh, best google search terms from yesterday: will cocaine on my anus, not in my anus, get me high?

Well, it depends on how much is in the nose of the person sticking it up your ass.

People.

You know you are up past your bedtime when you are google searching this.

And if you butt is numb, it’s working.

Ahem.

I also got to see Mrs. Fishkin today.  I just love writing her name, Mrs. Fishkin.  It is a rocking moniker.  She was having lunch with her hubby, Lenny, who is also just a pumpkin, God, I know some truly cute people.  Mrs. Fishkin was in the most adorable powder blue frock with this color patch print that was not cupcakes, but the whole ensemble resembled a scrumptious petite four, all pastels and pinks and an adorable black cropped cardigan with red swirl applique, she looked like a little Mission Mini Cupcake.  Plus she was rocking a new do.

Too good!

She also invited me to join the gang at the new park on Valencia Street for Sunday Streets.  I wanted to cry.  I will be at the shop.  I will be shop girl and then there will be music stage boy and mechanic dude, and that’s all she wrote.  It might be a complete shit show, but fuck it, I’ll be there.

Although the thought of being able to spend the afternoon at the park with Eve pie and  mama Fishkin and papa Lenny and friends, AB, Craig, Reno?  Mama Grace and Papa Price, maybe? Juniper?  Esther?  Oh.  I sure hope I get kid visits at the shop.  I will be throwing down the spoke cards for the monkey posse left and right.

Ah, it will be a good weekend, because it will and it will be crazy and I will build a bike or two and rock it out and when it gets tough, the tough will just say,

Paris

and all will be just fine in the world.


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