Almost One Year of Employment
ME: Hi. So Sabrina, you are a newish arrival to San Francisco. What do you love about living here? Why did you move here?
S: I didn't really tell anyone I was moving out here, I just did it. I was on a self journey and I was so done with Boston. I've been called a hippie my whole life so I figured I might fit in here. My parents would call me "Greenpeace" when I was a kid. I liberated a petting zoo when I was in high school cause I was a vegan straight edge kid. I used to be a brawler, big time.
What was the first show you went to see upon arriving here and where was it?
It was at the Elbo Room and it was the first week I was here. It was a metal band from Japan and I don't remember the name of them. I had really long hair and little Lennon glasses on.
So you were really going for the hippie thing!
Dude, I was so surprised-- people were just smoking weed indoors and it was kind of ok. It's not as acceptable there [Back East]. It's just not as open.
What's your favorite place to see a show?
Great American. The Lipo Lounge is pretty rad. Edinburgh [Castle] is rad because they have the fish and chips you can order from next door!
So you're not vegan anymore?
The five pictures below are taken left to right (top to bottom) and almost capture the beauty of the piece, but really, if at all possible, the best thing is to go see it in person on 24th Street just down a bit from Mission Street.
This was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful morning -- a relaxing respite from the 21st century’s annoying concoction of curs, vipers, vermin, polecats, mongrels and insects that whore off the will of the people. Maybe its just my brain demonstrating its independence. Maybe I’ve finally reached curmudgeon enlightenment years ahead of schedule. Maybe it’s just the goddamn news, but I attempt to start today with a renewed sense of calm. I don’t read the paper. I don’t turn on the radio. I don’t turn on the TV. I don’t read my emails. It’s a blather free morning.
But while I sit at my desk wondering what I should write about next, the sound of jack hammers suddenly emanates from the house directly behind us. My neighbor is actually tearing up his entire cemented backyard and plans on putting in a garden! There you have it: gentrification!
Anyway, here is one last look, for now, at some of the art work on our boxes of used 7 inch records. I wish I had done some of this artwork myself but, just like the jackhammers, my only true talents are more in the nature of noise: my ability to make those kind of sounds 5 year olds forge and the aptitude to blather like the venerable old asshole chain smoking at a bus stop in Hollywood, nursing a cup of coffee from McDonalds, jawing about the flotsam and jetsam that has decimated some of the finer gutters in Los Angeles. “Strength through blather! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Strength through blather!”
But back to the subject at hand - art. Enjoy.