If you have something to say...
Say it on the Huffington Post
If you have something to say...
Say it on the Huffington Post
The Blog
I actually support the basic premise of Occupy, and believe there wouldn't be a national discourse right now about the disparity in wealth in this country if not for Occupy. But I also believe that you have to be the change you want to see in the world.
Art isn't easy. The fictionalized descendant of painter Georges Seurat made that assertion in Stephen Sondheim's Sunday in the Park With George, but it applies far more forcefully to Samuel Beckett.
As we roll towards this November, we'll have the appearance of "popcorn politics." These are the great shows and stands that our politicians will take over the summer, all angling to find that one blockbuster that will propel them back into office.
Many of us have been to and worked on many a benefit over the years and appreciate the work that goes into them, but when you find yourself in a state of constant elation at one, it catches you by surprise!
In the early morning fog they gathered deep in the woods of the Presidio. They were a motley group, but in truth they were following in the footsteps of a grand tradition of motley groups.
Through it all, Bill's is still there. And the city is still here. And 47 years later I am still here. I think it's time for a burger.
It's a good thing this weekend is supposed to be a nice one, because thanks to the demolition of Doyle Drive, we are going to all be trapped in the 49-acre woods for the duration.
How many sexy dinners have you ever attended? Dinners that include eating food off of one another, while sipping delicious wines? For most of us, these dinners are ones of our own making.
It's sad to see Sam Wo's go, but I hope that somewhere out there tonight, a group of cocky kids will find some other greasy table to gather around, push out their chests a bit too much and invisibly check off another rite of passage.
Sure this town ain't perfect, but it's perfectly us, warts and all. So enjoy your Easter weekend of bunnies, baseball and beer. And I will be toasting my dad as the first pitch is thrown... he wouldn't miss it for the world.
I have recently rejoined the city after a few years in Marin, and as I am reconnecting with the city, I am thinking about the mayors. Not Mayors with a capital "M," but mayors with a small letter instead. Those people who we all call "the mayor of..."
Create a Google Doc of all the things you want to eat, drink, see, do before you leave. Feel little satisfaction as you cross one item off only to have the list grow by two or three. Tell yourself it's okay, that you'll be back. Pretend that everything won't have changed.
Does it seem that lately we are waiting longer and longer to save things that mean something in this town?
Some victory laps are expected, and some are not. S.F.'s agreement with the America's Cup organizers is finally going to the full Board of Supervisors next week. Many are relieved, but the manner of this victory lap is particularly odd.
As much as we talk about economic tax breaks, historical districts, and other "drivers" of our economy, the reality is the lifeblood of our future is these kids. Schools like De Marillac anchor a neighborhood in a way that no legislation ever will.
The outdoor orgies of yesteryear have been replaced by outdoor patio furniture stores, but luckily the gritty South of Market spirit has been cleverly captured by Kemble Scott in SoMa.
