Watching the Canada geese fly overhead in the sunshine.
Smoke from barbeques fill the air.
Other kinds of smoke, too.
All shapes and sizes and breeds of creatures enjoying the music.
But I really came to hear these two gentlemen most of all.
Earl Scruggs
Ralph Stanley
***
What amazes me about these two men, well into their eighties and proudly onstage with their sons and grandsons accompanying them, is how much life and energy they project out into the audience. Hearing them play was such a gift, that's the best way to put it.
I hope if and when I live that long, that I'm still full of as much life and passion as these two. It's inspiring as heck.
Two of my favorite songs, and yes, they sounded that great in person, too.
Earl Scruggs "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" Flipping awesome. You can't sit still and listen to this.
Ralph Stanley "Man of Constant Sorrow" Gives you the chills and makes you smile at the same time.
... San Francisco was the coolest city on the planet last night, thanks to Sir Tom.
***
I did NOT take this picture. Kudos to The Boy, with his little Canon Powershot. He did a great job!
My photos turned out really poorly and the video-- well, let's not even go there. All in all, Tom had a wonderful set. I have decided that if I ever hear "What's New Pussycat" one more time, it won't be too soon, but all the other songs... whew!
What do they put into the water in Wales? Are all the men in Wales that sexy?
***
For all of you who don't have weekend tix to Outside Lands tonight, come see us at Tedda's for entertainment and hugs. It's my showtime! xoxo
I cannot begin to tell you how much fun I had today. These are the first, preliminary shots I took for the band Magic Christian (Cyril Jordan on the left and Paul Kopf on the right). We're scouting locations for a shoot when the rest of the band arrives for a gig here in September. They're recording their new CD and I'll be joining them to photograph the rehearsals, the show, and hopefully their new CD cover! (I told them if I don't have a job by December, I'll go with the band to Spain. Maybe I won't try too hard to find one...)
You'll be hearing a lot more about this band, as we're all now pretty fond of each other. We had a blast driving around the city looking for potential photo shoot spots once the whole band is here in September. All of my meandering and walking has really paid off as they loved some of my locations, and we have more practice shots to take throughout the city.
I even got them to visit my Dog House! They loved it.
***
Here's a clip of Magic Christian playing "Shake Some Action," which is one of the Flamin' Groovies biggest hits.
And here is the original Groovies playing "Roll Over Beethoven" and Cyril is the dark-haired guy on the guitar.
I wasn't even going to write a post today (it's Monday, and there's a stressful vibey thing going through the office... more closed door meetings, ugh) and then a little rolling tremble rumbled under our feet.
We're so tired or blah or whatever that we all look at each other and say, Was that an earthquake? (We're on the 9th floor.)
Or was that a truck?
Whatever.
It did end up being a earthquake south of here, rolling all the way up to the city and under our Aeron chairs, but maybe we needed a little jolt today.
***
Last night I went out tango dancing for a while but the jolt I needed there was missing so I left early. Another off vibe but that's just how it is sometimes.
The wise man says "No Trespassing."
Since it was almost dusk, I decided to catch some last shots in Chinatown before heading home. It's such a different place when the tourists are gone and the shops are closed.
Got some interesting photos of lights and lanterns.
And as the new moon rose over Chinatown last night, a perfect thin sliver of white, I couldn't help but notice how thinly divided we are in this city.
The building immediately in front, with the fire escapes, is a typical aging Chinatown storefront, selling cheap bric-a-brac, the same stuff sold in every touristy shop up and down Grant Street. The building behind it is the back of the Ritz-Carleton Hotel, one of the most expensive hotels in the city.
As I'm taking this photo, a little voice says behind me, good morning, help.
She is wrinkled, with a face like an apple doll and hunched over a cane. I can hardly make out her English. Good morning, help.
Then she says, I'm hungry. That I understand.
I had a dollar in my coat pocket. That's all I had but at least I know in Chinatown she can get something to eat for a dollar.
***
Some days I do get weary here. Don't get me wrong. This place isn't a postcard. It's like Kathryn described in her piece in i live here: SF. I can see what happens here. But there's enough beauty to make it worthwhile.
Thanks to Kathryn's blog, I found this wonderful video: "San Francisco" by Jill Sobule. I think I've watched this at least ten times already. It makes me misty eyed. This song makes me realize why I live here and love it even when I'm weary.
She shuts the door behind me, waits for me to get undressed She ask if I need water, I can barely understand her I think she asked me what I do and I said that I'm a singer She laughs and claps her hands And then she begins And she sings:
"I like to go to San Francisco I like to go Put flowers in my hair I like to go to San Francisco I like to meet Some people there"
She looks just like a sparrow, but she's strong just like a wrestler She kneads and pulls and climbs on top It hurts, but I will try to take it Ask her if she's ever been Been to San Francisco She tells me that she can't leave They won't let her leave She sings:
"I like to go to San Francisco I like to go Put flowers in my hair I like to go to San Francisco I like to meet Some people there"
And in Golden Gate Park [ Jill Sobule Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ] She'll throw a Frisbee She'll bring a dog And she'll meet a boy And they'll fall in love And she'll feel so free Still walk on his back
Wonder 'bout the place I'm in and how they treat the girls I know that it's legitimate But still it makes me wonder She gets up to leave And I put back on my clothes I tip her well, she bows to me I really hope one day she gets to go
"...To San Francisco I like to go Put flowers in my hair I like to go to San Francisco I like to meet Some people there" (Some people there)
La la la la la la la la La la la la La la la la La la la la la la la la La la la la La la la la La la
It is a proven fact that, after attending a music show, if you have a semi-curly perm and you fall into bed with all of your makeup on and get about 4 hours of sleep, you will wake up looking like Stevie Nicks.
The probability of your getting a pimple on your cheek is also quite high.
The good news is that I didn't need to recreate my smoky eye look for today. I woke up with it.
I finally get to say this for reals... I'm with the band.
***
After work, me and my little camera get to prowl around backstage, dressing rooms, light booth, etc. for the St. Patrick's Day performances at the Great American Music Hall. My favorite Irish band, Culann's Hounds, is playing tonight and the photo above is part of a set I took a few months ago when they played at the Plough and Stars Pub on Clement Street.
Tickets are still on sale, if you're looking for some great music in the city tonight!
I hope to have some awesome shots for you soon. (I have to admit I'm a little nervous.) Wish me the luck o' the Irish (or the luck o' the photographer with the band).
No kidding. This little grammy was sitting next to me tonight during the Tom Jones concert. I was worried what might happen to her when he started singing "Sexbomb." Tom doesn't just sing "What's New, Pussycat?" anymore.
***
The concert was really fun. Cleavage was enthusiastically displayed even if it was a little older than one would wish to see so fully presented. The smell of pot was overwhelmed by the scent of perfume, not what you would normally expect in a crowd this size in San Francisco. There were a few interesting spectacles nearby: what possessed the 50-ish woman dressed as an ersatz cheerleader, ecstatically waving giant pink pompoms while he sang "She's a Lady"? Hmmm.
I stopped counting the panties after about 12 pairs. Not all of them hit the stage. There were three bras that made it, one of them hot pink and gigantic--the size of a small parachute. I worry a little bit that Tom will trip over the underwear lying about on the stage, but he's been dodging flying panties since the 60s so he's probably an expert at it. However, one tossed pair did hit him in the crotch, which was slightly rude and appropriate.
But we had a ball. He sang some new songs, which the crowd happily tolerated, but everyone was waiting for the oldies, and the sexy songs. Tom did not disappoint. At the end of the show, someone tossed a flag onto the stage, the flag of Wales, and you could tell he was quite charmed and happy about that. San Francisco loves Tom Jones.
***
Also, the Warfield is a cool ass venue. Because I couldn't bring my camera, I could only use my iPhone to take these photos. But even so, you can tell that it's an architectural treasure.
Okay, time for sleep. I think when I'm that little grammy's age, I'll still be listening to Tom Jones, bless his heart. He can make any girl feel young again.
"I'm your Venus, I'm your fire, I'm your desire." Meeeoooooow.
Tonight at the Warfield, a whole bunch of ladies (and men, who knows?... we are in SF) will be trying to lob pairs of wadded-up panties onto the stage during the performance. It's such a great show, and the panty throwing is tradition.
The Man is in town.
I will not be throwing panties. I will be enjoying myself thoroughly and singing every song. I'll probably scream, though. Last time we saw Tom Jones, we sat next to two young Japanese girls who couldn't speak a word of English but knew every lyric. It was awesome.
Maybe The Boy will throw his panties. He loves Tom as much as I do.
Okay, I know you're not watching all of these videos, but I can't stop posting them. Just watch this one, then.
He picked me up from work today, just wanting a buddy. He wanted to get some fresh air and be near the water.
In The Boy's cool ass vintage Jeep Wagoneer, we drove down to Fort Point, where you can get closest to the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. We listened to a mix of songs he put together, all about rain. (It was raining.)
The music, the rain, and the sound of the waves coming in... it worked like a charm.
I even forgot the part about not getting my camera wet. I must have my head examined. But I did get this shot before I came to my senses. Raindrops backlit by the Golden Gate Bridge.
San Francisco, you totally have me wrapped around your little finger.
We listened to the Billie Holiday version, but I like Sarah Vaughan's very much. This song makes you forget about your bad day, that you're flat broke, that you're tired.
I'm gonna love you, like nobody's loved you Come rain or come shine High as a mountain, deep as a river Come rain or come shine I guess when you met me It was just one of those things But don't you ever bet me 'Cause I'm gonna be true if you let me You're gonna love me, like nobody's loved me Come rain or come shine We'll be happy together, unhappy together Now won't that be just fine The days may be cloudy or sunny We're in or out of the money But I'm with you always I'm with you rain or shine
I'm going back to last Free Friday, to a group of photos I took. A late afternoon, in the Tenderloin, downtown.
It's both easy and hard at the end of the day -- easy in that I just lose myself in my photos and it's like I never went to the office (I just forget everything, even what time it is), and hard, in that I'm tired because it's been a long day -- but I have to go through the images, and even if it's just to find a few that make me happy. And then I can stop and go to bed.
***
I realized the photos I like best tell stories. So here are three.
Part I: The violinist
It's quite common to hear a variety of music being performed in the metro stations. Ordinarily, I don't stop to listen because I've yet to hear music that's worth stopping for. In my humble opinion, that is.
I understand (and you do, too, I'm sure) what it's like to enjoy something so much that you have to close your eyes to experience it. I did not have my eyes closed, but the slight, long-haired man, dressed all in black and playing the violin... his eyes were closed.
He played that violin like nothing else in the world existed except for him, and the violin, and the music.
When the musician stopped playing, we talked for a few minutes. The piece I was playing he had improvised (that amazed me just in itself, what a concept) and that he was visiting from Atlanta, before going on to LA. I was already sad to know that he wasn't a local and I wouldn't see him in the metro station again.
We talked about his violins and his CDs, and a little bit about Venice. I remembered the violin museum I had gone to in San Marco, a place he would have loved more than any normal person. He's never been to Venice. I hope he gets there someday, for that city and violins are good friends.
***
Part II: The man on the street
Coming up to the street, I saw the Truth Building again. I know it's a repeat from a previous post, but it's a photo I really love.
The sun was hanging lower in the sky, drifting into late afternoon.
The man gently helping the little boy on his bike, with training wheels, made me smile. Against the hard backdrop of this gritty part of town, you realize that kids still need to learn to ride their bikes.
Near the Hibernia Bank, at the corner of Jones and McAllister, the clouds were filling the sky with an end-of-day fullness.
Even the neon lights had something to say.
***
he says: hey lady, take my picture.
then he starts goofing off, wiggling around and striking crazy poses. which of course makes for a terrible photo.
i say: stand still and just act normal. otherwise i can't take your picture!
he says: act normal? i haven't done that in my whole life!
he laughs. and stands still.
and then i take his picture.
i tell him he has nice eyes. he does.
and then he can't help it... boys will be boys.
***
These old buildings must have so many stories to tell. I guess I'm not too sure how many of them I'd really want to know without them weighing down on my heart. But even in their present state, I find these places quite beautiful in their way.
The light is starting to fade to night. And my lens isn't wide enough to take it all in.
Contrasts appeal to me. I love finding unique juxtapositions ... and seem to notice more of them when I'm toting a camera around. Next to this men's club (and what Obama has to do with the club, I have no idea) is a rescue mission. Both the gentleman's club and the rescue mission were locked tight. No escape and no solace to be found in either place.
I wonder what this mural is really trying to tell the people that see it. I'd like to think that it's something like: there are more good people than bad people, and not this, which is seems pretty vague and not very inspiring. People living in this neighborhood need a little bit more than ambiguity.
***
Part III: The artist
Here I am, sitting and waiting for a new friend who, when I meet her, feels like an old soul. The air in the restaurant is thick with rich, delicious smoke from the tandoori oven, and I feel like I'm at an Indian barbeque. I've come in off the street to wait for her, since standing outside the restaurant was starting to get me admirers I didn't want.
I wish I could be in this neighborhood, invisible, to observe and take photos, but I can't. Standing outside waiting, a man who looked very much like the one I took photos of earlier, lurches towards me, an open beer can barely concealed inside a brown paper bag.
He smiles at me and says, you're so pretty. You're like an angel. Before I know it, he's reached out to push some hair away from my face. I wish I was braver. All I could say was thank you and then turn inside to the safety of the restaurant.
Indoors, away from the dark and the street, my new friend and I talk and plan. We talk about Cairo, where she was born, and the Mission, where she lives now. We talk about veils and makeup and photography and paintings and dance.
Three meetings. One afternoon.
***
While I was working on these images, I was listening to Paul's music, so I made a slideshow to share with you. The track is from his album, Ghosts, and the piece is called "Under The Direction Of St. Teresa VI."
Watching the Canada geese fly overhead in the sunshine. 
Smoke from barbeques fill the air. 
Other kinds of smoke, too. 
All shapes and sizes and breeds of creatures enjoying the music. 
Earl Scruggs
Ralph Stanley
