Did you know that “seapunk” is a “thing”?  I didn't until I came across this bizarre and frightening mural of a subdued shark with sailor tats and an squid rocking a gnarly sound system in place of suctions cups the other day.  Confused, aloof, and probably drunk, I consulted with the googles about what kind of delusional paranoia could be behind such a creation.

I'm not quiet sure how I got there—I think I searched for something like “ocean punk tattoos hermit crab weird bassnecter”—but, eventually, I found this:

What is Sea Punk? A guide out of your ignorance.

The term “Sea Punk,” perhaps originally taken from the work of photographer Andrew Ceciliato, now has come to refer to a unique style of fashion that incorporates the shock value of punk and the “kawaii” nature of mermaids. The movement mixes studs, spikes, colored hair, seashells, aliens, yin yang and other religious/spiritual symbols, and other oddball items. The ideas of punk can be seen in its rather shocking, rebellious nature. A very “kawaii”-like fashion style, Sea Punk incorporates hair colors like pink, blue, and green. Main inspirations are japanese street fashion, punk, and internet fashion.

To summarize: kids are dressing up like goth mermaids and dying their hair blue and I'm old and don't get it.

But there's a whole culture behind this seapunk shit—music, DIY Etsy fashion, and, naturally, very dedicated and hilarious haters.  And San Francisco, always being at the forefront of whatever youth movement du jour that ails our Great Society, seems ready to literally paint our walls in acceptance of it.

(Also, if these kids ever move to San Francisco en masse, I'm fleeing to a cabin in Colorado where I'll squander my remaining years rocking back and forth in a sad chair on my porch, my saggy dog at my side and a loaded shotgun on my lap, yelling at rustling bushes and the drug-enduced apparitions to get the hell off my lawn.)

For the interested, you can see the damn thing for yourself at on Market Street at 12th.  Bring goggles and a harpoon.

Good night, and good luck.

[Full-size pano on Flickr]

I made my way to Mercury Lounge for that photo show the other night and bore witness to a strange and jarring conversation between our pal John and the Mission-oblivious bartender:

OPJ: “Can I get P-B-R?”

MOB: “Sure.”

[MOB turns, stares at a bucket of Corona for a moment or two, and turns back towards OPJ]

MOB: “I'm sorry, I don't know that drink.”

OPJ: “P-B-R? It stands for Pabst Blue Ribbon.”

MOB: “Oh, right.”

[MOB grabs a can and cracks it open]

MOB: “That'll be four bucks.”

Vayable is a website in which qualified and unqualified people alike sell “tours” of various urban experiences—tours such as being homeless for 24 hours in the Tenderloin, or riding a longboard through Berkeley.  Think of it as an OkCupid for people who want to have 2-6 hours of awkward conversation with a stranger that doesn't result in sex.

Well, now said tours have made their way to the Mission and its sloping mating grounds, Dolores Park.  But the tours of Dolores aren't being offered up by people who 'get' the park.  Oh no.  Take the $30 and two-hour-long “I Came, I Drank, I Judged”:

Do you ever notice that on a beautiful Indian Summer afternoon, all the beautiful people come out and play? I don't. I'm fairly certain that the reason why Dolores Park is so popular on the weekends is that it's a wonderful place to go when you need a boost in self-esteem.

Feeling like an underachiever? Look at those kids slacklining - someone tell them there's no real world application for that BS. Feeling frumpy? Everyone is in hoodies and one-size-too-tight leggings. Feeling retarded? There's always someone who's high on a mystery and acting acting retarded-er. It's the perfect place to people watch, and more importantly, judge to your heart's content.

I'll bring some wine and cheese and teach you how to pair them, as we judge the hipsters around us - because everyone knows that Confucius said, “Judging is best done when you're stuffing your face and getting drunk.” So come out to the park, we'll imbibe, we'll indulge, and we'll JUDGE the crap out of everyone sitting nearby.

For: People that want to partake in wine and cheese… and judge those hipsters in the park.

Cost Includes: Wine in a red cup. Red wine. This is california. We drink full bodied pinots. Get a little culture will ya? Sheesh. Also, Cheese. I'll be bringing a blanket.

I take issue with almost all of this—mainly that smug tour guides give everyone who downs wine and cheese in the park a bad name.  And what kind of bullshit is that?  There's nothing I love more than cruising by the park after a long day of summertime work and enjoying a nice jug of Carlo Rossi while sucking the nitrous out of cans of Easy Cheese.

But it goes beyond that: if everyone goes to the park to boost their self-esteem, then what does that say about you and the guy who's violently jacking-off under a blanket sitting next to you?  You go to the park and belittle 'frumpy' girls just to feel better about yourself; meanwhile, the dude with his goddamn gear in one hand and the meth pipe in the other is plenty happy with his life and those girl's—including, coincidentally, your—looks.  Has this semen-spewing lunatic found the secret to love and happiness amidst an ocean of depression, unemployment, and chunky thighs?  Or is this tour just being offered up by some sad sack who can only get people to hang out with them in Dolores Park by masquerading as a tour guide?

You can draw whatever conclusion you'd like, but what I'm saying here is you'd be better off spending that $30 on a bag of crystal and a bottle of Jergens.

[Photo by Josefine Karlsson]

The weight of your messanger bag is off your shoulder and the fog is settling in. Your day was as long as it could have possibly been. But that's all behind you now, it's time to relax. It's time to listen to smooth sounds of the SF police dispatch.

In an insane leap of the mind, Eric Eberhadt decided to combine ambient music with the police scanner and it all works out surprisingly well.