Mail Bag
Reader Jarvis chimes in with the difference between living in the Mission and The Sunset:
I see this truck with the cool-kid ninja EVERYwhere. But, I live in the Sunset; I'm sure seeing this kind of shit happens all the time when you live in the Mission and life is so cool that you don't have to make videos about how cool it is to remind yourself it's cool. But it ain't like that in The Set. Yeah I said ain't, I'm a cowboy...
Dunno about that. Pretty certain we take a lot of video/photos to prove to ourselves that our neighborhood is worth living in. Also, "The Set" is way better of a nickname than "The Mish."
Plus, as Beej noted, there is some hella rad sidewalk graffiti (aka the harbinger of hip) over there:
Reader "mailorders" snapped this epic pic and shares this story:
This started out as a heated confrontation when the dog ran at the guy in the t-shirt, threateningly barking. This dog has a history of being noisy and somewhat unruly; I don't think that he's dangerous, but if somebody doesn't know dogs, they're bound to think that the dog is about to attack. His guardian, the guy with the buzz cut got mouthy and even as the guy in the t-shirt was walking away, the dog continued to follow him, barking all the time. I guess it escalated from there.
There you go people. Don't own a dog. Thanks mailorders!
This is what unemployment looks like.I initially wrote this and sent it to the McSweeney's folks to be considered for their Open Letters section. I did so a while ago when I first thought I was losing my unemployment, but then they gave me another extension (yay!). Now that I'm slowly making a better and better living as a freelance writer, I believe my time with unemployment will very soon be over. And since this letter is too long--and probably not GOOD ENOUGH--to be posted on McSweeney's website, the Almy gets my leftovers.
Long live freeloading!
--------
Dear Unemployment,
You probably wouldn't know it to look at how close we are now, but I was quite frightened of you at first. I had just been wrongfully ejected from one of the highest-paying day jobs I'd ever landed, and despite the praise and recommendations of my fellow 20-somethings, I wasn't convinced you'd be able to adequately replace the fast-paced and exciting world of retail inventory management. You were a foreign and confusing entity of which I knew little about. Even those close to you could not properly explain your mysterious intricacies. Now, at the close of our time together, I feel it necessary to apologize for my gross underestimation of your ability to make my life perfect.
I blame the fact that I was terminated a mere three days before Christmas for our getting off on the wrong foot. It was a hard time for both of us. I was getting ready for an excruciating trip to celebrate the holidays with my parents, a journey in which I'd no doubt have to explain the issue of being recently unemployed numerous times to many equally disappointed individuals, and you were most likely getting ready for the large amount of work you had ahead of you in the New Year. Let's face it; the economy wasn't doing us any favors.
But it was sometime after receiving my first check in the mail that all of that turned. You see, Unemployment, I was so scared that I wouldn't be hearing from you ever again after I had missed my phone interview with one of your co-workers up in Sacramento. The brochures you'd sent me said the interview was of utmost importance, and could make or break my chances of recieving your help. However, once your letter arrived at my apartment in spite of my negligence and ever-present forgetfulness, I knew we were going to have a great time together.
I'll keep my gushing short, Unemployment, since I know you have many people to attend to, but I have much to thank you for. Foremost, I wouldn't have been privy to the endless amount of free time which helped uncover my love for writing, nor my ability to earn money doing so, were it not for you.
It was because of you that I was able to live my ideal life of staying home all day in sweatpants and slippers--leaving only for sustenance and to send you those letters reminding you that, yes, I was still in need of your aid--for over a year and a half. You also helped me catch up on a lot of great television series (that month we spent with the first five seasons of LOST was particularly enriching), and learn of the true healing powers of marijuana. But, as flowers blossom amidst compost and manure, the opportunity to retreat into the inner recesses of my mind--brought on by a lack of any work readily available on Craigslist or within a four-block radius of my apartment--revealed to me the power of the written word and my desire to harness it.
Unemployment, you were like a supportive college professor or, better yet, some sort of anonymous, Dickensian benefactor who saw potential in me though we had never met. And now, your impending withdraw from my life weighs on me. I feel like a baby bird destined to plummet to the earth upon being nudged from the nest of your consistent checks and multiple benefit extensions. Yet despite all of my fears of inadequacy and failure, I'm happy to leave your embrace. I will always miss you, Unemployment (pasta dinners, embarrassing moments with new acquaintances, confusing paperwork, and all), and you should know that I could not have found my life's true path without you.
Thankfully Employed,
Patric Fallon
Bummer: the West Coast GoldSprints setup was stolen Monday night up in Marin. If you've never raced GoldSprints before, it was a blast and the entire setup easily cost tens of thousands of dollars:
Sometime between 8pm Monday night and 8am Tuesday morning my entire GoldSprints roller racing rig was stolen.
It was parked in a lot in a normally safe, patrolled, well lit area in an office park on the south side of Novato.
The thieves broke the substantial Masterlock brand tongue lock that was on the trailer.
Leaving only a bit of debris and a portion of the lock, they towed the entire thing away.
It is a PACE American 12' dual axle white utility trailer with a side door and barn doors on the rear. I had just put a burly new Masterlock on the rear of the trailer as well.
All four of my gold metal flake Kreitler rollers with fork stands, the four wood stage decks, four Marin Ignacio black fixed gear bikes and four Globe Roll bikes were inside.
They are unusual in that they all have 53 x 13 gearing and are brakeless fixed gear bikes.
My Mackie speakers and Mackie subwoofer as well as four bins of sound, video and computer cables were inside along with all my associated tools and hardware. A Rane brand mixer, 19" LCD monitor, video projector and Globe banners as well. Two power drills and a red Craftsman toolbox full of hand tools.
If you spot the gold Kreitler rollers or fixed gear bikes with stupid tall gearing from Marin or Globe or any of the other items I'd love to hear about it as would a couple of local police agencies.
Anyways, here is a better pic of the bikes and you can see the trailer here.
(photo by Datenschwanz)
From Brian:
In response to your Chinatown t-shirt, this is a pic I took two days ago. Unbelievable resemblance.
There you have it folks: the shirt doesn't lie.
Previously on Uptown Almanac
I'm super happy I decided to bike downtown today. Courtesy of Sergio Ramirez:
This could not possible have anything less to do about SF but it's a goddamn dead deer on a couch watching TV.
From the inbox, by way of North Carolina:
This is the pull off at Rt 35 and Miracle Dr
A deer was hit there.
The couch was dumped there previously.
Day two the deer was on the couch.
Day three the end table and lamp showed up.
Day four the TV and TV stand showed up.
Quality.
Got an email from Allan:
I want to know what the Uptown Almanac has to say about THIS:
Here's the thing: this video is so laced with sexuality, Lady Gaga impersonators, and 80's pornography-film music that it is very hard for a mere mortal to evaluate. Thankfully, I majored in alcohol consumption and premarital sex in college, so I'll give this a once over.
Truthfully, I don't know immediately what brand of journey I am about to embark on. The opening features dogs barking, shaky camera work, and some tranny running through the woods. Zombie films are pretty hot these days and the fact I am watching one on Vimeo will less than 300 views made me feel bleeding edge until...
...some relatively 'cool music' begins playing and a fairly faggy (no no, it's okay. I live in San Francisco. It's my word too) child actor comes crawling through the thicket to 'take his hipster princess.' Now it's becoming evident that I'm about to experience a "bold experiment in art bridging the mediums of fashion, music, film, and expensive catering."
As previously mentioned, Lady Gaga smokes some crack rocks and joins the cast.
The video then proceeds to give us a gratuitous shot of an aardvark tattoo, leaving the audience to ponder "What's below of that tramp stamp?" The answer, unbeknownst to most, is scabies.
Suddenly, a second man joins the cast and there is mad cantaloupe on the scene. Also, this chick had a period all over her own face, which pretty much indicates she can contort her body in wonderful ways and make getting the clap into an "alright" experience.
At this point, I'm starting to shed the hate and get impressed. Last time I was dry humping an ambiguously-gendered person and I got a little hungry, I ate a couple of double-stuffed Oreos and had some flat grape soda. But Christ, this is an orgy of fruit and animal carcasses. Go on...
Now people are finger-fucking the food. I know very little about the female anatomy because I figure if "bitch gets pregnant, I always have a can of Raid and a baseball bat." But I'm reminded of what the great philosopher Snoop Doggy Dogg had to say about intercourse: "used to be up in them guts like everyday." Based on this astute analysis of the female genitalia, one can only assume that this is a metaphor for the 48 seconds of intercourse they are about to have.
Abruptly the journey has concluded with some shots of unwieldy fingernails. We witnessed no penetration and I am left with a penis ascending into my lower abdomen in fear.
Ordinarily, this is where one would compose a synopsis of what just occurred, but I would prefer to leave you with this: "Filmed in London and Los Angeles." lol wut?
Matt spotted this at 18th and Dolores. I suspect this is the tag of the Recreation and Parks department (zing!).
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