On Sunday morning at about 4am I received a frantic phone call from my boyfriend. He was making sure I was OK, since there was a huge crash on S280 between Mariposa and Cesar Chavez, which he can see from the back of his house. That’s the route I use to get home from work. He said that after the initial crash, three more vehicles slammed into them and that one car had rolled over. Dazed and confused people from the accident were wandering the freeway. He called 911, which forwarded him to the CHP. While he described what had happened to not one but two dispatchers, one asked if medical was needed. Are you kidding?!?? It took more than 15 minutes for the police to arrive and another 15 for any medical. There are at least four firestations within 10 minutes and SF General Hospital is less than 5 minutes away. Other cars that had stopped as witnesses or to help had already left the scene. So, if you must crash in SF, be prepared to wait for emergency services to help. Another reason not to drive…
I’d write about the culinary joys of the Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market if Nicole hadn’t broken it down for y’all already. But besides the vendors selling their delicious wares, there are a few noble souls who all but give away their finest creations: The Tanglers.
I’ve a soft spot for haunting banjo tunes, which you can hear virtually on The Tangler’s site or hear personally at the Farmer’s Market every week. And then there are the bones, which Tangler Jeff Lefferts can tell you more about.
I tried emailing The Tanglers to inquire about non-Farmer’s Market-related gigs, but they’re not talkin’.
Be warned, fellow SoMa workers/residents: the movie Rent will start filming in the South Park area next Monday and parking will likely be nightmarish. But if you’re feeling like catching a glimpse of Taye Diggs or Rosario Dawson, feel free to wander by (with perhaps a cameraphone in hand). Tip: I believe they’ll be shooting at the South Park Cafe in particular.
For the uninformed, the movie Rent will be based on the Tony award winning musical of the same name.
Yesterday what looked like a dragrace was in fact the third annual “Walk a Mile in Her Shoes” put on by the Silicon Valley YWCA. The brave men wear heels and walk a mile to raise awareness (and money) about sexual assault on women. They all appeared to be having a good time in spite of the painful shoes. I spoke with a walker named Ken and he was very earnest about the cause.
Not that I’m going to move . . . .
In the midst of a 24 hour take-home final, I decide that solitary confinement in my house isn’t encouraging creative thought or active problem solving, so I’ve relocated to Cafe Evolution (hey kids, still no link back, for shame . . . ) for lunch and some exam action.
What sits before me? A couple so obviously in the throes of new love that I want to chuck hunks of abandoned salad and bread at them. No, no, I’m not one of those “ick, I hate happy folks types.” I’m just jealous of course. I’d rather be kissing someone than taking an exam as well.
They’re clearly older than high-schoolers, but they have that first-love, youngster vibe: when there is absolutely no imaginable way to get enough of the other person’s lips. When just looking at someone is all you need to survive. Their bowls of latte languish in the afternoon sun as they nestle into the Alice-in-Wonderland, purple and green chair – two mannequins in the window who’ve come to life solely for each other.
From where I sit, all I get is the back of the girl’s head and the delicious, albeit voyeristic, view of the guy as his just looks at her. After each kiss, it’s like he sees her for the first time, his expression moving from awe to awareness as a smile slowly spreads across his face. They’ve exchanged perhaps four words in the last 40 minutes. I doubt they notice that. Or the passage of time.
Last time I sat in that chair, I nestled only with my law books, each time I looked up from them, my expression moved from awe to confusion, as worry lines crossed my forehead and beads of sweat developed at the thought of impending exams.
But more truthfully, I can’t remember the last time I sat in that chair.
I’ve long since stopped stealing glances at them and have moved on to just plain staring. They won’t notice anyway. For him, there’s nothing but her fan-shaped shell earings, her bright tank top, her serpent tattoo, her blonde pixie hair. I don’t know either of them – and I never will. But I hope she’s looking back at him the same way he’s looking at her. I’m already his fan in this relationship – anyone who looks at anyone else that truthfully deserves nothing less in return.
I wonder if he has a brother . . . .
My friend Kate was in town one weekend recently from upstate and the first night we headed to Assab Eritrean on Geary. They serve a wonderful honey wine bottled over in Oakland called Enat, and the food here is ridiculously good. This time, Kate and I shared a large vegetable platter that we nearly devoured without speaking. Lentils, okra, spinach, potatoes, salad, all wonderful. We completely finished off the plate and all the injara underneath without needing a second helping of the bread. “Good job, guys!” our waitress said when she came to take our platter away.
This got Kate thinking. “You know, I have a friend that was telling me that the bread isn’t really bread, it’s made from a root.”
“A root? Injara’s made from a root?” I asked.
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know, but that’s what I’ve been told. He said it’s really a mashed down root and pan-fried.”
“That doesn’t seem right. How’s it get so bubbly? That suggests yeast.”
“Hmm. True… We could ask.”
Protesters in San Francisco aren’t an unusual event, but this is the one I ran across by City Hall today after I got dismissed from jury duty. These folks were protesting the use of pepper spray on non-violent protesters, something which had happened in Humboldt County in 1997, according to their website.
They’ll be having a teach-in on the 28th in Berkeley, starting at noon in Sproul Plaza and moving to Thrust Theater (Berkeley Repository) at 2025 Addison, from 1:30-10pm.
The San Francisco International Film Festival starts this Thursday in theatres all over the city. Also, the after party for festival entry ZOOM! (2005, Greg Harrison) will be held at Ruby Skye (which also happens to be my night job). Come by, schmooze with movie people, B celebrities, and of course, me. I’ll be there later in the evening.
April 23rd at 12 noon my favorite San Francisco smooth jazz station , KKSF 103.7, will be in the south bay to host EARTH DAY SAN JOSE.
Artists include Gerald Albright, Jeff Lorber, Ric Alexander, and Kymberly Jackson.
Earth Day Booths and great food.