Freelance Graphic Design, Photography, Videography and Illustration.
︎︎︎ BLOG
︎︎︎ PROJECTS
︎︎︎ COMMISSIONS
︎︎︎ VIDEO
︎︎︎ CV & Portfolio
︎︎︎ Instagram
Looking in ROSS at the bigfoot shelf, size 13 and up - or scanning the womens shoes for Doc Martens for Clara, no dice.
- San Francisco experienced a battle on the streets between retail and junkies, leaving what is now a high traffic (foot, car, bike, tram) road with empty fronts. New chains and shops are creeping back to the battle-zone, Powell Station, where ex-shop signs are stained onto walls like shadows, Dr Martens and Oakley stand opposite ROSS.
What else, walking up and down hills, along the waterfront and into parks, around Alcatraz and its bleak stoney rec-time bleachers that gaze out at the boats and coast that frollick about while they sit or read (real philosophy) or dig.
Li Po's, Vesuvio, Spec Adler's, just to name a few of the bars where I've been drinking, sitting where Jack Kerouac has sat, or Ginsberg, Kesey, McClure or Cassady or any of the other HOWL poets and writers of the Beat generation, scribblin' and drinkin' during the late 50's and 60's when Berkeley was in its formation as the thought capital of the states.
I actually met a lady who attended Berkeley around that time, Mamiya was her name (maybe), she studied anthropology and found herself in the protesting heart of it. She joined my table for pizza one day when I was wandering around. By that time I was a full-time flaneur. Walk around, uphill wherever possible (to achieve maximum viewing distance), to somewhere I could sit down and read my book, write some thoughts and roll a joint - before staggering on towards whatever I liked the look of the most, smoking away.
That's really been my day, 4 out of 7 times of the past two weeks. Not complaining. I've had good fun in my own company when that's been all I had, content in the knowledge it ends here, but also that I'm lucky enough to come back. This city has woken my imagination and somewhat revived the end of the trip, cut just short of its starting objective, Colorado and the lonely national parks otherwise.
I've met a lot of people in the past two days.
The Hostel I'm staying in, the Green Tortoise, also appeared in my Beat lit guide I followed in the first week, while still hopping around sketchy hostels in downtown. It's a huge bustling hostel, play and colourful like a rainforest cafe - fun for kids and family, but also really social and full of interesting characters.
The old ballroom is a hive of activity in the morning, people sit with laptops in groups or alone, typing and talking away on sofas and at tables in the corner while a breakfast frenzy carries out in the middle of the floor.
Theres a pool table, fast wifi, dry sauna and coffee all-day, the disco ball twinkles overhead.
I've met a Strava developer, an Internet-Archive admin and a man who's almost made it from Canada to Mexico on a Skateboard (he smacked me 3 to nothing in pool).
Just yesterday I met a girl called Jasmine.
She started it in the kitchen, shocked at me barefoot. What the fuck. A hostel worker gets involved "yeah that is wierd". Mate. I swear it was the first time I've ever done it in any hostel. Anyway, we talk a long time right there by the sinks, then we meet up again later, she's waiting for her friend who arrived today (halloween) so I think we'll all get plastered tonight. She's Hawaiian, cute as you like and likes a bit of banter, fashion student turned Macy's employee turned traveller, heading for Europe next week! Sober too, me drinking at her late in Vesuvio last night until midnight pool in the hostel.
6:12pm
Drinking a beer at Vesuvio's, actually two. Might turn into more if the Halloween madness kicks in, the Americans really do it - big old party all week in fancy dress. Why not parade the costume for an entire week? We know some of these cost money. I saw the Kerouac alley costume party the night before last! Great fun, someone was the replicant doll from Bladerunner (personal favourite), another was "chucky bitch", wait that means I've been drinking here for the pst three nights. Dope.
My 'costume' is Cameron from Ferris Bueller, I had a red kangol cap and a tall physique, so I bought a $10 red jersey from ROSS and that's it. More realistic and imaginative than my Patrick Bateman, less horror though.
Honestly, I just look dapper. Anyway, effort maximum, I want to get a gorilla costume by the way, for a bigfoot costume. Good looking fur, longish hair and some makeup - make a film, show up to the premiere as bigfoot and drink onstage.
Just now, as I was sitting in Kerouac alley with my pint, I notice the bike ride heading up Grant to my left, a proper ride-out! With the bells and lights and costumes. I run down the alley and lean on a streetlamp, holy shit! Who's that pizza-rack? Ian! Brilliant, brief chat while the ride rolls past from Chinatown, he's been a messenger here for a year or so. Try to meet up this weekend.