Friday, December 31, 2010

True Love Is the Devil's Crowbar

Remember folks, as 2011 slides into view, you better come correct in the New Year. Keep ya fade tight and ya gear fresh:
Danny MacAskill is pretty much world renowned for keeping it fresh. So much so, that if you're at all into bikes, your grandma, or mailman, or pot connection has told you at one time in 2010 to check out a DM video. You've probably even seen this one:
What's with the dead stop front flips off of ledges, Danny? Ice cold.

It's been fairly fucking ice cold here in SF lately. Which is to say, the mercury has been into the high 30s on occasion. I've had a few rides face into some Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day type of gusts.
For those of you who may be reading this in, say, Minnesota or Gnome, Alaska, or the Gulag in Siberia, hey, I know it's colder where you're at. That's just one of the reasons it sucks to be you.

For us delicate, culturally advanced San Franciscans, however, it's fucking cold, yo. Thankfully, the legendary X played two shows at Slim's on the 28th and 29th to warm the cockles of our clam-chowder-in-a-bread-bowl hearts.

Actually, I started warming my cockles a bit early at Triple Crown on Market and Laguna. I'd throw up a link, but they're closing. That spot has horrible feng shui: it's been like three places in five years...and counting. But my boy Tophers was spinning the last Red Wine Social for a bit, so I stopped in.

Immediately after a shot of Jameson and a few pulls on my beer, I dropped my camera on the lens. Smash! Broke the filter. Here's a picture of Toph Rock and friend, taken through shattered glass:
I was hoping it was going to give me the awesome Black Flag Damaged feel, but the shattered glass was too clost to focus on. Just looks like it might be snowing in the bar. After ceremonially--which is to say accidentally--stabbing my finger with a glass shard from the smashed filter, I was off to see X.
You can keep your yellow-bellied sapsuckers and your red-breasted warblers. For my money, the sweetest sound in nature is John Doe and Exene Cervenka singing together:
I had the first three songs to shoot--no flash allowed. My lens is somewhat half-assed, in that the widest it opens is f3.5. New, faster lens soon. Also, while most people were friendly enough and let my by to get my three songs worth, there were a few cocknockers who were suuuuper pinched about yielding their spot at the punk rock show to let me sidle up to the stage. As a result, I got some dark shots with a high ISO, all basically from the same angle, standing in front of John in his mega suave western suit. Some are okay though:
The very next night I cut another finger, this time while pretending to stab someone with a busted pint glass. Kids, don't play with glass.
All right...I've got to head to work at the Buckshot. I want to let everyone who's been to the place know that there'll be some good stuff coming in the new year, including some awesome and unusual swag, a revamped, frequently updated website, and a blog full of drunken freakouts which I will be running. So come down and get yer drink on.

No idea where this came from, but I will say this: "Europeans look out!"Returning to the ice cold theme, does anyone remember Cappio? Far as I know, this early '90s treat was the first bottled iced coffee available in the states. I was stoked, because at the time I was a Creative Writing undergrad and had a huge iced coffee jones. I'd make a lemonade-style pitcher of coffee, throw half and half and sugar in there, and nail the whole thing while I was writing.

When Cappio came out, they were available in two sizes: the regular size, which was 12 ounces or so, and the whopping 32 ounce quart bottle. I had a Monday night five unit Shakespeare class that lasted three or four hours. At the beginning of class I'd start in on a quart of Cappio, and by the midway break, I was guaranteed to be shitting my guts out. The thrill, in addition to the chill, was it's unheralded, yet unmatched, laxative qualities.

Anyhow, Happy New Year and all that tripe. Here's to hoping you don't spend the first day of it hugging the toilet. Not sure what the Swedes say, so I'll just say "Prosit!"

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