Tonight. 7:00 PM at Cody’s Stockton Street. I’ll be there.

More info.

First, local glossy 7×7 is having a photo contest, Bring on the Night. They’re looking for photos that “best capture the distinct spirit of San Francisco’s nightlife.” Ten finalists will be in the November issue and the winning photo will be featured in the December issue.

Next, the newly relaunched JPG Magazine is accepting submissions for Issue 7 now on three themes, including Hometown, sponsored by Metroblogging! Submit your best “hometown” shot for a chance to be published in JPG Issue 7 and $100! (Full disclosure: I’m one of the editors. So start kissing up, baby!)

See you in print!

(From Ephemera.)

Inspired by Shabbat Salons, comedian Heather Gold brings the talk show format into the 21st century. Her live talk show mixes thinkers, entertainers, doers and the audience with humor, curiosity and yes, a little soul.

This Friday’s show is all about “Intimacy” and features comedian and survivor’s rights activist Betsy Salkind, author/spoken word artist Michelle Tea, and yours truly, talking up digital intimacy.

It all happens the JCCSF, 3200 California Street, from 8:00-9:30pm. Hope to see you there!

Gama-Go is a local design shop that sells awesome screen-printed shirts and other cool stuff through local stores and online. Their prices are a little high, generally, but once a year they have their special Spring Sample Sale where you can stock up at low low prices. And this Saturday is their 3rd annual Sale, from noon to four, at the Rickshaw Stop (155 Fell @ Van Ness).

Just keep this between us, ok? If anybody asks, you know a guy who knows a guy….

When bugs fly: Auto geek hits highway for surreptitious runs in jet-powered VW
The Navy surplus General Electric T58-8F is that menacing, giant cigar-like item sticking out of the VW’s hatchback. When he fires it up, standing next to it is a bit like standing next to one of the engines of a Boeing 737 or an Airbus A320 while the thing is about to back off from the gate. This, however, is a Volkswagen bug with a 1,450-horsepower jet engine sticking out the back, idling away at 13,000 RPM.

In the future, we will all have jet-powered cars.

Guinness the adorable Daschund nestled in some doggy clothes at my favorite pet store in the city: Babies, where not only do they sell the best pet stuff in San Francisco with the least attitude, they also don’t mind if you make photos in the shop (which is sure-fire way to my heart). If you live in San Francisco and have a 4-legged friend, give them a look. They’re in Hayes Valley (235 Gough Street). Tell Guinness I said hi.

The downside is that we hear it. All the time. If we put the glasses too close together in the kitchen cabinet, they rattle with every approaching train. The trains come out of the Sunset Tunnel and turn down Carl Street with a metal on metal screeching like giant angry robots. But that’s not the worst part.

Because of the turn in the tracks, Muni trains swing their butts out toward our building on every pass. And because of that, there’s a big red zone smack dab in front of our home.

You know what red means when it’s painted on a curb, right? It means Don’t Park Here. I know this. And you know this. But the collective intelligence of San Francisco drivers seems to go out the window in front of our apartment, because every day, several times a day, some idiot parks there. And when they do, the trains can’t pass without inflicting bodily harm.

On a good day, they just smash the car and Heather and I lean out the window and cheer. On a bad day, they stop and belt out a nuclear powered horn blast so loud, it could shake the crowns off your molars. That, my friends, is the worst part. And after six years of hearing those blasts, I’ve developed an extreme hatred of anyone who parks in that spot.

There’s a silver lining to this tale of human stupidity. Every once in a while, after a few minutes of Extreme Horn Blowing, the Muni driver gives up and opens all the train doors. The street is filled with San Franciscans of all shapes and sizes, ages and colors, rich and poor, all joined together in hating whoever parked there and having someplace else they’d rather be. Most of the time this crowd just gathers, bitching and sighing, until the tow truck arrives. But sometimes something magic happens.

All it takes is one rabble-rouser. One troublemaker to throw up his hands and yell, “My friends! We can do this!” And suddenly there are a dozen people gathered around the car, lifting.

You know, cars aren’t nearly as heavy as they look. At least not when you’ve got a dozen people united in their desire to get back on the train and on with their life.

The troublemaker yells, “one … two … three!” and the car moves as if on water. It drifts over to the curb and stops, the crowd cheering. The driver eyeballs it and nods. Everyone gets back on the train and goes back to being strangers, just on their way to the rest of their day.

But three stories up, Heather and I sit watching, a tiny portion of our faith in humanity regained.

Reposted with permission from This is Powazek. Photo by Heather Powazek Champ.

The surprise highlight of the evening was the opening band: Tsu Shi Ma Mi Re. The Japanese trio sprang from sugary harmonies to angry thrash and back again, bouncing around the stage like angry, adorable Muppets. In between each song, the lead singer and guitarist chirped, “TankyouverymuchSanFrancisco!”

If you missed them on Wednesday, you’ve got one more chance before they leave town. On Tuesday, November 8, they’re playing “Japan Girls Nite” with two other bands at Studio Z (8pm, $10 cover). Be there.