Thursday, June 18, 2015

camping out in San Francisco

Clarion Alley in San Francisco’s Mission District was a seedy stretch of concrete and back doors, before C.A.M.P.

The Clarion Alley Mural Project launched in 1992, founded by an artists’ collective dedicated to the goals of social inclusiveness and aesthetic variety.

It was an immediate hit with the tourists and so the city allied with the San Francisco Art Institute to ensure the CAMP survived.

In 2012, artist Mark Bodé with James O’Barr painted an homage to Frank Frazetta, 
a comic book artist Bodé considers a master.

Frazetta was born in Brooklyn in 1928 and got his big break in 1964 when United Artists hired him to do the movie poster art for “What’s New, Pussycat?,” a new flick by Woody Allen.


That one commission earned Frazetta a year’s salary
 in a single afternoon, 
but his true love remained sci-fi, monsters and babes.


He died in 2010 at 82.

“After Frazetta the Master” remains in Clarion Alley, 
and is still attracting tourists.


Wednesday, June 17, 2015

keeping our feet on the ground

The Guardian this week features a photographic essay of disfigured feet on older women in China.

Self mutilation was in fashion back then, 
in pursuit of what passes for beauty.

Time is perspective. 

Take your time.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Jazz Age Long-Line Party

Today’s post comes from our “Well gee, that sucks” department.

ClockTowerTenants may remember last Father’s Day when daughter and I dressed in period duds and took in the Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governor’s Island.

It was so much elegant fun we expanded to include our S.O.’s this year, and headed back out for another round of 1920‘s era refinement.

Michael Arenella and his Dreamland Orchestra were on the bandstand again.

And splendid period finery restored my hope for humanity,
 as it did the first time around.

Imagine antique wicker picnic baskets with china plates and crystal champagne flutes all hand carried on the Governor’s Island ferry and you get the idea.

But something was different this year. 

It took a very long time to get a drink.

So I asked around, why are the lines so long?

“Tickets” came the response from everyone I asked, 
“tickets for food and drinks.”

Turns out last year cash disappeared from the all-cash bar. 


So the response was to sell drink tickets first, 
tickets that could be accounted for.

Then someone got the (sarcasm) great idea to create “tiers” of food and drink couplings for a wide range of entry prices.

And so the confusion began. 

Lines grew long and never actually let up.

It wasn’t all frustration.

We danced and sang and tried to do the Charleston just like last year.

Plus it didn’t rain!

And this year’s lobster rolls were terrific.

It's just that it took an hour in line just to get them.

Monday, June 15, 2015

and I say it's alright

George Harrison, August 1969

Sunday, June 14, 2015

always the same old line

New Yorkers hate someone taking their time and few things are worse than someone cutting in a line.

ISIS knows how you feel.

So-called “martyrdom operation,” --a suicide bombing gig-- is highly prized because of the belief it will guarantee paradise and more virgins than you can shake a stick at.

So for months bombers wait, and wait, in line. 


And here’s the thing that is really pissing them off:

Saudi militants are using their connections to pull their friends and family forward in the suicide line, forcing bombers without connections to wait for a year or more!

Who wants to wait a year for paradise? 

The suicide-bomber backlog is so bad it has driven frustrated militants back to Iraq where the waiting list is somewhat shorter.

Tensions run high.

It’s more than just explosive belts setting Isis jihadists off.