Oh Patrick

Patrick getting loose...

3/ 28/ 11

I haven't had much time to blog lately. It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words.

Here are some photos taken lately.

Quote of the day 3-20-11

A Police officer and an older woman, who is often on the corner and hangs out with the "tribe", were casually walking past my door together. As they pass I heard the woman say to the officer,

"Well, I'm not thrilled with the police around here, either."

Richard and the Meteorite

It was a Saturday night about six weeks ago around seven p.m.

I was cleaning the store up a bit when I started to hear some loud crashing about, every thirty seconds or so, against the corner of the building. After four or five times of this I decided to investigate. As I took a few steps out the door, a stuffed backpack fell from the sky so close in front of me that it was only inches from my nose as it passed downward to a heavy thud on the sidewalk. If it would of hit me it could have done great physical harm to me including perhaps breaking my neck. There to pick up the pack for another skyward toss was a man who I later found out is named Richard. Upset, but holding my cool, I asked him what he was doing. He looked at me with saucer like dilated eyes and explained how he was determined to knock out the surveillance cameras located fourteen feet over our heads, attached to the building.

He was convinced that "big brother was watching". I explained to him that the cameras were owned and operated by Amal and her brothers at the market two doors down. After a good ten minutes of convincing him, he seemed to have got it.

About twenty minutes later the familiar sound returned. This time as I walked outside, Richards skateboard fell from above almost sheering the face of a woman who screamed with surprise as it hit the ground beside her.

I scolded Richard but his paranoia and whatever drug he seemed to be on had escalated beyond rational communication.

I went in and called the Police who responded promptly and took Richard away.

And so ended my encounter with Richard, or so I thought.

I had never noticed Richard around here before. I figured he was one of those who would wake up the next morning in jail with no memory of where he last was, and when released would find his way back to where ever he was from.

The following morning I was greeted by Richard as I approached my store to open for the day.

He was very apologetic for his behavior the previous evening. I explained to him my level of tolerance and that he had breached that by endangering people. He apologized over and over assuring me that he means no harm to anyone.

Richard is one who is easy to communicate with when he is sober or slightly buzzed.

When he is beyond that, he seems to quickly lose regard for the situation here. He has become more aware of who Rick and I are and has integrated into the local "tribe" and surroundings with more and more respect ever since the night we first met.

Now , The Meteorite.

A local artist and unique character, that I have known for a dozen years at least, has the name Fred.

Fred deserves and will get a post all about him here, eventually.

Several weeks ago Fred told me about a friend of his who has some cool meteorites and that he was going to send him in to show them to me. Responding that I had no interest in purchasing rocks, Fred told me thatI should at least check them out.

A week later a man in his mid twenties came in with a meteorite that was just smaller than the palm of my hand. He said it was his last and favorite one, and that his mom found them in Arizona many years ago. He went on to tell me how it is worth hundreds of dollars and that he would let me have it for forty dollars so that he could get enough food and gas to get him up north for the next chapter in his life. He had received the meteorites for free and they had gotten him far in his journey.

So I helped him out and bought the meteorite for forty dollars. I soon had another customer, so I placed it on top of a nearby tall display case. I never had much time to check it out.

When I came to work yesterday with my sixteen year old son, Uriah, the meteorite was in the window display on the corner. Later in the day I took it out to show Uriah. A bit later I went outside to see the day, and Richard was on the corner.

He started talking to me about "his" meteorite and that he would like it back soon. I thought he was joking. He thought I was joking him when I was explaining that it was mine and how I had acquired it. When he realized that I was serious , he quickly became angry and demanded it back.

He told me that he had bought it from a guy up the street a week or so ago and how the cops took it from him and threw it in the park thinking it was just a rock. He went on to explain that he convinced a woman officer of the importance of the rock and how she went and found it and gave it back to him when they released him from another visit to jail.

I told him to calm down and that there must be an explanation. I suggested that perhaps someone had stolen it from my store and then sold it to him. He responded defensively asking if I was accusing him of stealing it. I told him "no" and explained the theory a second time. He was still upset and seemed to want a commitment or assurance that he was getting his meteorite back before he was going to let me pass peacefully back into my store. I assured him that it was obviously more important to him than me and if it came down to it he could have it. He responded how he was not going to pay forty dollars for it. I also suggested that maybe there are two meteorites, although that seemed unlikely. I suggested that I go in and look around for another meteorite and to call Rick ,who he had left it with to put in the window.

Upon searching nervously for a few minutes, I remembered where I had placed it later in the evening of the day I had bought it. It was there , and mine was bigger! Apparently size matters when it comes to meteorites.

I returned outside and Richard shot me a glare. I handed him his meteorite and then showed him mine, (meteorite that is). He responded with joyous relief and then proceeded to give me an unexpected hug.

Richard declined a photo with his meteorite. He says he does not want his photo with it in case he has to use it to break something with.

Owlsly Stanley

The pictures from yesterday shown here, document the memorial put together by the "tribe" outside for Owlsly Stanley.

Owlsly was, for some time, the sound man for the Grateful Dead. He also brought us music in stereo. That was his idea. He also is accredited with making lots of good old fashioned LSD for everyone.

Radiation Monitor

For those concerned with radiation reaching the West Coast of the U.S. by wind from Japan.

I highly recommend going to radiationnetwork.com

They have a map with updated readings every three minutes.

Some Pictures of People..

Some Dogs

Some local dogs...

Quotes of the Day

In the vast texture of constant overlaying sounds here, I will often hear random statements from people walking by the door or speaking to each other in the store. Other times people communicate what I consider profound, humorous, or otherwise interesting statements directly to me. I will attempt to add these as Quotes of the Day from now on. Here are some from recently that I will share.

One of the "guys" that has been a regular in these parts, getting hammered on any and everything for over ten years, was sitting on the exact corner of the building leaning with his pack. There was quite a drunken gathering along the masonic side with plenty of loud nonsense.

As I approached my door from inside to check the scene, I witnessed the previously mentioned guy stand up to leave as he muttered to himself in disgust...

"It's just stupid around here anymore."

I found this very humorous and ironic coming from him. My thought was; really, you're just seeing that now? And; You can't see how you contribute to that?

I even thought for a moment that maybe I had witnessed a life changing epiphany and that maybe the next time I would ever see him would be years later in a suit or fancy car, exuding success.

No , he is outside now same as ever again.

Another quote that caught my attention was from a woman passing by. In a bit of a southern accent she said to whom I assume was her husband ...

"I get the feeling they don't like Texas around here , are you getting that?"

One more quote that impacted me was from my sixteen year old son who was working with me last Saturday night when a woman was struck by a car while riding her bike. He has just earned his driver license. After witnessing the woman being moved into the ambulance and hearing her soul splitting screams of pain, he approached me looking kind of white and said;

"That had more of an effect on me than all of the movies that we watched in drivers ed."

March 13 A.M. photos

Here are some photos from last night and this morning. The corner was quiet yesterday until around seven p.m. when the "tribe" returned to throw more shoes on the line and celebrate that occasion.

Izu

Lovely Izu.

Izu has lived in the neighborhood for many years. She has been voted #1 in walking tours.

Izu also used to work here at Positively Haight Street which gave me the opportunity to really get a chance to know her. I believe one must experience Izu in person in order to fully appreciate her uniqueness. Look her up at haightashburytour.com . Book a tour, you won't regret it.

Saturday Night Accident Update

I have been waiting to receive an information about the condition of the woman who was struck by a car while riding her bike on Saturday night.

Sadly, I was just informed that she has passed away.

What I was told, is that she died of a blood clot in her brain.

Brings to mind...

A line from a Grateful Dead song "Theres just the pavement left and broken dreams."

Live Breaking News

A person on a bicycle, not wearing a helmet, was just hit by a car coming through the Haight Masonic intersection. It seems to be a woman. I have called 911 and many are anxiously awaiting a response by paramedics as she lay quivering in the intersection. People have gathered around. I had first heard the hit with screeching brakes, a thud and screams... The response teams are here. They are attempting to move her, there are waves of her heart breaking screams going on and on as I write... It has been no more than 6 or 7 minutes and they are gone with her.

The Return

Skipping ahead many stories in hopes of showing the relevance of the one I have started, I will resume at the time shortly after arriving in my van to San Francisco in December of 1986. I brought with me two friends , Andy and Marshall from Connecticut.

We were here after a long journey and we wanted to find local herbs. Fred L. had stayed here from last year and had kept in touch with Rebel.

Rebel was now living in a large third floor flat in a different neighborhood with two roommates, Keith and Rick. When the soon to be New Years shows had passed most of who I knew had gone back to where they came from. I found myself one January evening hanging out at Rebels place discussing my reality. Rebel and his roommates elected to let me use their stairwell room off the back of the kitchen to do my tie dyes in. I slept in my van at night in front of their flat for months and only drove it around the block once a week to avoid the street cleaning ticket.My van at that time was needing some repair after a long road trip.

Rebel gave me a key. I would go in after all three of them had left for work to do my dyes and have a place to be. In return I chose to keep clean for all, the kitchen and the bathroom. Two areas that were suffering from previous neglect.

So for those of you still with me, here's the kicker!

Rebel at this time was living at 1153 Masonic, two doors from here. His roommate, Rick, is the same Rick that is my business partner here for eighteen years now, twenty five years later.

The Bus Came By (continued from previous post)

That was my first time on Haight Street. There were even more familiar faces in front of the Full Moon Saloon than there were at the Psychedelic Shop. I had a very at home feeling and the thought of going across town did not appeal to me, but I felt it was important to stick with Fred to insure our invitation to Mill Valley. I asked how we were going to get to Broadway for the Kingfish show and Fred said "the dead on bus". I had seen that bus, named by its license plate, at many of the shows I had been to on the East Coast.

As we walked up to the end of Haight Street to Stanyan Street, the Dead On bus rolled up and I got on. There were few seats near the front and the rest was carpeted. Lots of people got on. I sat against the drivers side wall on the floor near the back wheel well. The city freeway system was still intact being that it was prior to the 1989 earthquake. From the floor of the bus, seeing out was only at an upper angle. The combination of being vulnerable to the unknown, and being spun around the curves of the freeway without being able to see much, was a dizzying experience.

When we got off the bus, a different cityscape appeared. The ChiChi club was small inside. I was not interested in seeing the show. I just wanted to make sure I stayed with my friends and that no one would try to mess with our belonging that had been trustingly left in a pile against the wall. I chose to keep an eye on things so that my friends could dance and so on. I had been burned earlier that year in Rhode Island at a Dead show and my trust had since waned as my awareness heightened. As I sat on our side of what was now a larger pile of peoples stuff, a man sat next to me with a Grateful Dead cap on and eyes dilated fully.

He introduced himself as Rebel.

After the show we went outside to find three things:

One, less than friendly police officers encouraging all to keep moving along as they brandished there billy clubs.

Two, no more buses crossing the Golden Gate to our next destination.

Three,Rebel.

Rebel lived around the corner in a room on the third floor of a hotel like building. There was one bathroom per floor. He was to have no guests. The landlord and his wife lived at the bottom of the stairs.

Rebel invited all six of us to stay in his room and we all just fit with enough room to open the door if one needed to get out to use the bathroom. We all had our sleeping bags and small packs with us and all went well...until morning.

That is when we found out about the no guest thing. Rebel clued us in and told us the exit strategy was that he would walk four of us down, then Jeff and I would follow on our own two minutes later to meet up outside. If the landlord was alerted by noise on the stairs from them leaving, Jeff and I were to tell him what he heard was us going up to check and see if our friend was in. The landlord didn't buy it and locked his grip on the stair railings to prohibit us from leaving as he ordered his wife to call the police. He forced us back up to the third floor and demanded us to show him which room we stayed in. Halfway down the hall where it widened, we turned and dodged him running as he chased us down the stairs yelling. At the bottom of the stairs was the large italian wife wielding a rolling pin. Chicken was the game, she retreated from our pace behind her door and we made it to the street full tilt following Rebel's directions and eventually caught up to our friends. Minutes later I was enjoying squeezed to order carrot juice for the first time in my life. We followed Rebel to his friends house so that we could all chip in and buy some herbs there.

During the morning after the New Years Eve Show, I made a resolution on Ocean Beach after being up all night. That was to drive back here in my van for the next years shows.

And I did.

(To be continued)

1985-1986 New Year's Eve

I grew up on the East Coast near Philadelphia. I had never been west of Chicago. The Grateful Dead had gotten my attention and I wound up with a New Years eve ticket to see them in Oakland.

Making and selling tie dyed shirts had been my source of income for several months at this time.

In those days one could board an airline named Peoples Express and pay with cash, $100 even , after take off. So I did, with only two more hundred in my pocket. I had $100 to return with and $100 to cover food and the cost of another ticket for the show the night before New Years eve. We had no credit cards or credit. There was no money for hotels so Jeff, a friend sharing the journey, and I were going to have to rely on the Universe to provide.

And It did.

I was twenty years old. The airplane was at least fifty percent full with people traveling for the exact same reason as I. The thought of how far the part of the city we were heading to was from the airport, never crossed our minds. Fortunately three folks that we met on the plane offered us a ride to the Psychedelic Shop that used to be on Market near 7th street. Many familiar faces from the shows on the East Coast were appearing at this location. Among them was Fred L. I knew of Fred through a group of guys I was hanging out with in Connecticut. We had noticed each other at several parties but had never clicked. Fred was accompanied by his girlfriend Suzanne. With them were two friends, Jen and Petey. Suzanne invited Jeff and I to stay with them across the Golden Gate bridge in Mill Valley.

The plan became to get up to Haight Street and catch a show at a the Full Moon Saloon then head up to Mill Valley for the night.

The six of us, after walking up to Haight Street and smoking a joint in Buena Vista Park, found that a band named Kingfish was playing across town at the Chi Chi club on Broadway...

Neighbors

As in many neighborhoods there are some one knows and some one only knows of.

I would like to mention a couple of them that I know. They will be mentioned in many stories.

Directly across the street looking east is Magnolias Pub and Brewery. Lucky am I to have a fresh assortment of fine beers just next store. The food is yummy as well. A man named Dave owns and operates the establishment and has since just a couple years after we opened Positively Haight Street. All of the employees there have always treated me well and I am honored to have them as neighbors.

Next I would like to acknowledge Amal's New Light Market. Amals is two doors to the west on Haight Street.

Amal is an Angel of the Haight for many of us. She has cooked many of meals and has made sure I never went hungry on many days when I could not leave the store or was too stressed to remember to eat.

She has four of her brothers working there. Fred, Jerry, Mike, and Sam.

I have known them all for seventeen years and am thankful to have them as my close neighbors.

Pictures of the morning / 3-5-2011

Just a few morning moments...

P.H.S. murals by Tony Machado Mid 1990s

On our old building next door...

Just Mike.

We called him Big Mike for 12 years. Then he told us he would like to be called "Just Mike".

He even had a ball cap made that had Just Mike embroidered on it.

Mike lived for 13 years in the flat on the corner diagonal from our store. He spent half his time on his farm in northern Ca. He made his living legally growing strains of medicinal herbs.

Around the beginning of 2009 Mike passed away in his flat do to heart complications.

He was in his early fifties. His death was a sad shock to the neighborhood.

About a week later a familiar looking large man appeared in front of me while

I was working at the store on a saturday morning. I had never seen him before, and he looked at me without expression. I asked if I could help him and he introduced himself as Mikes brother, Steve. He lives in Pittsburgh Pa. where he and Mike were raised.

He asked If I could help him sort through Mikes belongings. He had heard that I could asses the value of some of Mikes collectables.

Being that I had an employee then, I accompanied him across the street and up to the 3rd floor flat. He proceeded to tell me how he had arrived the previous day and that the police investigators had then given him the keys to the flat. The flat had been treated as a crime scene.

Steve went on to tell me that he had left the flat the previous night to get dinner and that when he had returned the locks had been changed. Having a locksmith friend in San Jose, Steve had the locks renewed again that evening so that he could enter and sleep.

We were in the flat for about 30 minutes when we heard someone trying to pick at the door lock. We both quietly went to the door and Steve looked out the eyehole. When he did he saw police officers. As he informed me of that we heard a loud "San Francisco Police, open the door now!" Steve raised his brow as if to ask me what to do. I told him to open the door.

What happened next was very unexpected and horrific, and it bonded Steve and I in a way I could never have imagined with someone I had just met 30 or so minutes before.

Upon unlocking the door, five officers with their guns drawn burst into the flat yelling at us to get on the floor spread eagle position. As the door was opened I was the first person encountered and instantly I was staring at 3 guns pointed 6 inches from my face and a loud amped command coming from several officers at once to get down!

Steve was experiencing the same with 2 guns in his face.

We were told to not say a word as we lay silent and they proceeded to make sure we were the only ones there. The whole time we each had an officer pointing a gun at our backs. Eventually one officer went through my pockets as I lay silent and pulled a wad of cash from my front pocket and exclaimed "Ahhh drug money!"

At that time I said "If I may speak officer, if you look in the middle of the money you will find a travelers check made out to Positively Haight Street, 14oo Haight Street. If you look in my wallet in my back pocket you will find my drivers license with the same address. The money is my stores deposit for the last several days."

Slowly they got it and they explained how the landlady had just changed the locks and now she saw us up here from the sidewalk and figured we were criminals looking for drugs.

After many apologies they left. They were not police officers from our neighborhood so they did not recognize me.

After a week of helping Steve sort things out, Steve decided that he would like me to take possession of Mikes golden Buddha. So it sits in the window.

There are other stories that are part of this one and they will be told another time.

Some more pictures of the window.

This window has been the backdrop for many of the photos I will share. In front of it, the people river flows.

The Window on Masonic

Do people make art, or does art manifest itself through people? Both I suppose but I prefer the later.

Halloween 2009, my teenage boys went off with their friends to do their thing leaving me home alone. Most of my friends were attending the Phish show in southern California.

As the boys left I turned back into the house and a pile of paper that I had salvaged years before caught my eye. The paper is two x three feet in size and is of thick stock. I arranged several pieces to form a 4x4 foot piece and taped them together.

My intention was to draw an image that could be mirrored to create an 8x4 foot image that could be used as a stencil to cut the image from a piece of plywood. I had no certain image in mind as I started to draw several failed attempts.

I should add that when I started all this, I also started to consume shots from a full bottle of tequila.

Then about three shots in, the image poured onto the paper from my pencil in hand as if the image itself was using me to bring itself into this world.

By 3 a.m. the image had presented in 3 layers, each on its own 4x4 piece of paper.

The middle layer would be duplicated to make 4 layers total.

The tequila was now gone yet I didn't feel drunk.

Five days later the unpainted four layer entity stood on my deck. I was amazed by it and I would like to mention that I have never done any art in this medium before.

The side extensions were born next. The painting of it all took the longest.

On Christmas Eve 2009, the almost finished installation was brought to the city from my home and put in place. The Buddha that remains for now in front of the installation was a part of the previous window display and was not intended to stay. Upon first viewing of the installation it was unanimous that the Buddha fit in perfectly. The Buddha has its own story and that will eventually be told in a posting that will be entitled "Just Mike".