Not So Pacific!

Big Fred, who sailed the south Pacific for six years, was fond of telling me… “sometimes the Pacific is not so pacific”.

This is today’s warning from FEMA:

Update: High Surf Advisory issued December 26 at 3:41AM PST until December 26 at 10:00PM PST by NWS San Francisco CA

San Francisco; Coastal North Bay Including Point Reyes National Seashore; San Francisco Peninsula Coast; Northern Monterey Bay; Southern Monterey Bay and Big Sur Coast

* WHAT…Large breaking waves up to 25 feet, strong rip
currents and sneaker waves.

* WHERE…San Francisco, Coastal North Bay Including Point Reyes
National Seashore, San Francisco Peninsula Coast, Northern
Monterey Bay and Southern Monterey Bay and Big Sur Coast
Counties.

* WHEN…For the Beach Hazards Statement, through 4 AM Friday.
For the High Surf Advisory, from 4 AM to 10 PM PST Friday.

* IMPACTS…Dangerous swimming and surfing conditions and
localized beach erosion.

Inexperienced swimmers should remain out of the water due to
dangerous surf conditions.

The End of 2025

Twenty twenty-five, is that how it is written, is coming to a close. Sorry folks. America is not Great Again. So let’s move on to more important stuff. Eat Carbon Earthlings. That phrase was often uttered by Carl Loeffler who with Nancy Frank and a bevy of others created La Mamelle Galleries and the Artcom Electronic Network. Artcom was one of the first conferences on the internet. That was in the 20th Century. Or should that be the twentieth century. Club Nine occurred during those years. South of Market San Francisco was a breeding ground for all sorts of stuff then. Some good. Some not so good. The Emperor ruled and created an empire as attested when he succumbed to life in San Francisco. From the woodwork spawned a plethora of opinions, concerns, territorial disputes, and of course sadness. That’s the way it goes. The Emperor Swam to Bolinas.

The Emperor appears in the left side of this photo. Peggy Gilbert in the blue shirt, Fred C. Gilbert in the hat pointing, AreWeReally? looking dumbfounded, Helvetica enjoying the experience.

The background is Sedona, Arizona, where The Emperor’s mother was the de-facto Mayor as a town councilwoman.

This is The Emperor’s altar created for Day of the Dead. Family, friends, mourners, enemies and politicians paid respects and adulation. He may have lived longer, but most of us were not paying close attention.

That’s the way it is… or was, if you look at it right. Those were the days!

Exactly where have I been?¿? All year.

Apparently still in Training in San Francisco, Lands End to be less precise. The training exercises have been quite immersive since the last post. I really must update and post more frequently. Actually, I set out to document the Expedition starting 75 years ago but that would require daily and weekly discipline to remain focused to remember what I was attempting to do. Much interference ensues. A barrage of stuff comes at the speed of light including wavelengths of sound. A refamiliarization with Jetpack, as is being used on my phone, could mean more frequent updates about my commute. We’ll see.

The memory struggles with recollection. The carbon footprint remains low, including on the food chain.

JudyJudyJudy and Dr. Rindbrain relaxing in the Rheingold Room backyard at the ‘Pataphysical Studio. These two accomplices have attended to my adventures with more enthusiasm than Heinz has pickles. JudyJudyJudy has cut my hair for multiple decades. Dr. Rindbrain has encouraged and accompanied many expeditions to other universes, nearby.

Winter and Spring were a blur of Republicans and Meat, and Zippy the Pinhead. The leftover Grateful Dead celebrated sixty years in the Polo Fields just down the hill in Golden Gate Park. I got some Swan and a couple of saunters through Shakedown Street.

Naga on Shakedown Street

Zane Kesey on Shakedown Street

Zane Kesey and AreWeReally? on Shakedown Street in Golden Gate Park

The Annual Dock of the Bay Birthday Celebration occurred again, this year among the fountains in the plaza under the

• London plane trees and Wych elms are the main species planted in the Music Concourse plaza.
• Appearance: The trees are heavily pollarded, which creates a very structured and consistent look for the plaza.
• Other trees: The concourse also includes some maples and walnuts. 

according to Wikipedia… in front of the Bandshell in Golden Gate Park. The Emperor arrived on schedule toting several bags of Sushi and chips and drinks and the dog Bella. Who would of thought we were witnessing the demise of an Emperor. I walked away thinking “The Emperor is getting old”. I should have peered closer.

The Emperor

The Lands End Cruiser. It gets me there.

January 7, 2020

Whooaaaaa… that was a long, strange, wait until the next Post! Was it not ?¿?

So here I sit wondering how to describe what transpired this afternoon on my Expedition down Clement Street to 32nd Avenue North for one block to California Street, then East for 12 blocks, then turning South for three blocks to Geary Boulevard where a United States Postal Office is located.

After checking PO Box 210244 for any contents, I sauntered West to 28th Avenue and Geary where I met a nice woman my age who manages SFHeart.com … Whooaaaaa…

Ha Ha!

Insurrections and Consultations

A year and six months later, pandemically speaking, and several years since the last Post about Swimming to Bolinas, I am back in training mode. My first social sojourn outside of collaborating with colleagues at the ‘Pataphysical Studios, was to drive to the San Francisco Art Institute to investigate if the property is open. It is not.

The San Francisco Art Institute was padlocked. Using gravity I walked down the hill on Chestnut to Columbus into North Beach and hopped on a 30 Stockton bus up to Union Street to meet P Segal at Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Store Bar. That is where the insurrection and consultation took place, sitting outside at a sidewalk table. Periodical research was un-clandestinely handed over to P Segal for research and ammunition for Proust Said That.

• 

North Beach is P Segal’s turf. She was born here. She grew up here. Her father used to take her to the Italian Club around the corner where he smoked cigars. After the mission was accomplished by exchanging Proustian propaganda I departed to walk back to the San Francisco Art Institute via a circuitous route including Green and Grant Streets passing Caffe Sport and Golden Boy Pizza. A look into the window of Maccharini Art and Jewelry revealed he is still in business.

Then… onto the search for the elusive Harley K. to leave a Certificate of Creative License and two Casino Bux, worth a whole lot more than face value.

Training to Swim to Bolinas is fun… sometimes. It is good to be loose in North Beach again after all these years.

Chapter 2

Liberating is the feeling encountering lay teachers who wanted to help you learn rather than constantly wrapping knuckles with a wooden ruler, or making me stand in the corner in the front of the class to display what an incorrigible child was in their midst. After being expelled from Catholic school, Grace enrolled me in a public school where the mode of learning was not on guilt ridden religious grounds. I recall being enthused about school for the first time because I was treated like a human being rather as a bad apple in a bowl of fruit. The light was on the horizon.

Life after catholic school improved marvelously. Lay teachers proved to be a benefit because the stimulation was intellectual, not disciplinary. I excelled in history, french, and even math to some degree. Education was now cool and not to be feared. My mind was open and wondering. Then lightning struck, the Bus came by and I got on. They were on the search for the cool place. They were having fun, riding around the country on a colorfully painted bus with sound blaring from speakers. They could talk to onlookers from headphones with microphones each was wearing. The cacophony of fun emanated from them. They were the Intrepid Traveler and His Band of Merry Pranksters. These were the Little Rascals incarnated, the real Our Gang Comedies come to life. The discipline and stimulation of school faded into the act of having fun again, and becoming psychedelic. Creativity became the mantra. Further was the destination. A huge left turn was made. I never looked back.