Dave Jess

July Shows

2009-07-05T15:00:00.000-07:00

July 8
Ben Marcato's Mondo Combo

Top of the Mark
Intercontinental Hotel Mark Hopkins
Mason at California Sts.
San Francisco
7.30pm
$10.00 cover

According to Ben last week:

"We'll be here every Wednesday ... forever".

July 19
the
Joe Rut Super Burrito con Queso

2pm
Thee Parkside
BBQ and throwdown
costs money to eat and drink, you know ...
be there ...

also:
*playing a backyard BBq in Larkspur, but it's a private party.
*headed to Tuolumne Meadows for a well-deserved break
*Sinskey Winery is using a live loop of the
Aqua Velvets, from a party we played last October
check it out ...

June Shows

2009-01-27T00:14:00.000-08:00

I'll be appearing at these locations
during the month of June ...

Musicians and night-club proprietors
lead complicated lives;
it's advised to call ahead
to confirm engagements.

The Shi-Tones

June 21st
Father's Day

Halu

don't miss the
One Year Anniversary Party ! sidewalk stylee
afternoon
" ...'til the cops come." - Shig
8th and Clement
San Francisco
Free

Ben Marcato and the Mondo Combo

every Wednesday evening
7.30pm $10
Top of the Mark
Intercontinental Hotel
Mark Hopkins
Mason and California Sts.
San Francisco
attire: no athletic wear/ t-shirts
www.topofthemark.com

Halu

2008-08-05T22:33:00.000-07:00

In late June, my good friends Shigemi and Mimi Komiyama
opened 'Halu - a different Japanese restaurant '.
Located on 8th Ave near Clement, they have been crazy with biz
since opening

Shig and I have been playing together with the Shitones and Aqua Velvets for a number of years. .

I've been filmed playing a Mermen song at the Grand Opening ...
google : Mertones

The yakitori and ramen are amazingNeed more info?
google: yelp
keyword: Halu

You will love it.

Five Stars !

Shitones Rock the Power Tool Drag Races

2008-06-04T01:36:00.000-07:00

Jim does the rusty slide....

.

Martin Fierro

2008-03-15T01:06:00.000-07:00

I met Martin at a Steve Kimock show.
He had been invited to play at a sold-out show
at Great American Music Hall and we were talking
at the monitor mix during the break.
He was a very peaceful man, greeting friends
and aquaintences with warmth and light.
As the second set started, he was getting ready to play
and Kimock came to the side of the stage and said:
"Not tonight, Meester."

Martin quietly put his horn away and listened to the music until the set was over.
When he left he said to me
"... good show ..."
shook my hand
said it was good to meet and left the club alone.

Why did Kimock invite him to play and then change his mind?
kinda weird to me ...
I have no idea what folks' motivation is from one minute to the next
and sorry to say
the show really wasn't All That
but
I will always remember Martin's grace in his and my disappointment.

Rest In Peace

Fentanyl for Dementia ?

2007-12-28T15:38:00.002-08:00

a re-posting

It's taken me a few days to sort out my thoughts and get over a cold I seem to have caught out of the blue .... I wonder why ...

Dec.21 10.30 am
I arrived at the Care center my father has been relegated to for the past year.

He was diagnosed a year and a half ago with Lewy Body Dementia, a rather insidious form of Alzheimer's that also includes Parkinson's Decease.
He has lost control of most of his bodily functions and has bouts of dementia that usually take him back to his first love; his work on the Southern Pacific Railroad.
His hearing has gone, but his humor has never failed him.
When he's lucid, he's Dad. Laughing and smiling. He knows who we are, without fault.
When having a moment of dementia, he's working, or kindly mumbling with a child.
Sometimes he intently watches a bug crawl across the wall.
Of course, it's not there, but it's nothing horrible.
I like to believe he's talking with myself or my younger brother when we were young.

When I walked into the lobby of the Home, I found my father slumped in a wheelchair, ostensibly pointed at an artificial Christmas tree, but not really pointed in any particular direction. He was nearly comatose.
His shirt front was covered in vomit.
A towel had been folded into the polo shirt collar.
Vomit drooled from his mouth.
There were traces of vomit on his eyelids.

An older resident looked at me with compassionate pity and, as the Head Nurse came by, threw quite a disdainful look her way. She motioned her arm as if to say
that the Nurse who got the disdainful look had something to do with my father's current condition.

I was stunned to see Dad like this; the last time I visited, he knew who I was instantly and smiled broadly. Sitting in the wheelchair drooling vomit did not seem right.
I whispered in his ear that I was there.
He did not move, the erratic nerve impulses (Parkinson's) in his hands the only thing I could feel. He was pale and very cold.
I whispered again: "Dad, it's Dave. I'm here. What's going on?"
His eyes were closed. His breathing was very shallow.
Still slumped over, he could barely make the words:
"Get me outta here."

I was shell shocked.
For at least three or four minutes I sat there with him, trying to keep my rational mind. I thought to myself that his condition could not have worsened in such a short time.
I asked him if he wanted to go for a walk.
"yeah" he croaked.
At least I knew he was in there, and he knew I was with him.

I wheeled the chair around the hospital corridors for about five minutes, massaging his shoulders and letting him know I was there with him.
Arriving at the nurse's station, across the corridor from his room, I asked the Head Nurse what sort of medication my father was currently being given.
"That's none of your business", she stated flatly, without looking up.
I told her my dad was covered in vomit.
Again, without looking up she told me that someone would be along
"... when they have time..."

I waited a few minutes and decided to take Dad outside into some fresh air.
In the year he's been there I've never seen him outside.
I asked one of the employees there if there was a place I could take him.
I was told:
"I'm not sure .... um, maybe the parking lot?"

I wheeled him around the beginning of lunch service in the hallway and
back into the lobby, then out the front door into a small courtyard to the side of the front entrance.
The cold air roused him enough to open one eye, and I was heartsick at what I saw.
His pupil was pinned.

I'm not proud or boastful about it, but being in this
Biz called Show,
I've known and do know people who indulge in heroin.
The vomit, the cold clammy hands, the near comatose state, the pinned pupils.

WTF?

Shivering,he complained of the cold and I wrapped my Patagonia fleece around him as best I could.
I took him back inside, into the hallway next to his room.
We waited about ten more minutes, and two of the staff wheeled him inside and closed the door. They cleaned him up and put him into bed.
I took that time to call my Mom and let her know what I had seen.
She told me that a few nights previous, Dad had been a little more vocal than usual, yelling something about trains and waking a few folks.
The house psychiatrist prescribed "a mild sedative" to help him sleep.
"The lowest dose possible." she was assured.
They told my mother about side affects and such and somehow convinced her to agree to this new drug:
Duragesic (it's a Patch)

aka: Fentanyl.

Fentanyl is a drug given to cancer patients who are in a great deal of pain.
It is not given for minor aches and pains, and not for elderly patients with dementia.
In fact, Fentalyn is 80 times stronger than morphine.

At this point, I had no computer with me to look up the name of the drug.
I only knew what I saw, and that seemed totally wrong.
Seeing my father in that state was too much for me to bear.
I needed someone to commiserate with.
I called my younger brother, who is married to an RN, and he told me not get so emotional.
This is how "the System" works.
I went to see him at a new business he recently opened.
We talked and reminiced an hour or so, agreeing to have dinner with my sisiter-in-law and nieces, but I still needed to understand, so I drove to Mom's.

Mom and I argued almost immediately and she defended her decisions(she's going on 81 and getting more and more bewildered by all this), yet at that point she didn't realize just what was given to Dad. She has no computer to look these things up.
I went to dinner with Li'l Bro and family, had a beer(2), gave my nieces their Christmas gifts and headed to a state park about 20 miles away to spend the night.
I spent most of that evening starwatching and wondering just WTF was going on.

Dec. 22
I awoke around 7.15, rolled over and tried to re-enter sleep, but it was too cold.
I drove into the sunrise and back to town. While grabbing a quick cup of coffee, I was hoping it was all a bad dream.
No such luck.
At 8 am Dad was fighting to breathe, his body stiff and rigid.
His mouth looked dry, parched. He obviously would not be eating food.
He had an itch on the side of his face, and in his stupor, tried to scratch.
After several tries, I finally scratched where I thought he was aiming.
He let me gently scratch his face for several minutes.
I closed the curtain around his bed and whispered again into his ear.
I told him I loved him.
I told him I would try and straighten out this insanity.
I cried profusely.

I thought he was dying before my eyes.

I sat with him for 3 hours, during which at no time was he looked in on by any staff or nurse but, at one point I heard the nursing staff laughing about Mr. Jess' dementia and how he's always working ....
I was speechless, but what I heard next caught me off guard.

The Head Nurse intimated to a few of the newer staff ("You're new here ....")
that some of the inhabitants had a name for her.
Nurse Ratchett.
"Who?" asked someone I couldn't see.
She repeated the name, louder and with convicing timbre:
"RATCHETT !"
I immediately prayed for strength.

Nurse Ratchett is the malicious and sadistic head nurse in Ken Kesey's
"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"

I hugged Dad,told him that if he ever wanted to go home
he should go to the light and we'll all be together.
I repeated this a few times through my tears, collected myself as best I could and walked out of that place without looking at anyone. Sunglasses hid my swollen eyes.
I got to my van and broke down again, shaking and fearing for my father's well-being.
It hadn't yet dawned on me that this would be how I would remember Christmas with my Dad, possibly the last one we would see each other.
Calling my brother again, he suggested I visit him at his new business so we could talk.
I found him working alone.
Proudly showing me around his new place and trying to change the subject and my attitude, he again reminded me that Dad was "in the System" and was well taken care of.
It didn't do much for my mood.
I drove up the Big Sur and back Home.

I tried sleeping, but fitfully tosed the night away, waking with a really bad sore throat.
After tea and some Motrin I called my Mom and asked again for the proper spelling of the drug given my father.
She had already called Dad's MD and they assured her that Dad would be taken off the drug, but that it would take a week or two for the effects to diminish.
I don't believe a word they've told her.
I spoke with Mom earlier this afternoon and she said she will make sure he never gets Fentalyn again.

Dad dosen't know I was there with him.

I found this,among other frightening things online:
http://www.fda,gov/bbs/topics/NEWS/2007/NEW01762.html

My gut hurts.

Sam's

2007-12-03T19:31:00.000-08:00

I was in Chico Ca. this past weekend playing a smokey soiree for a wacky bunch of hairstylists.
(lotsa alcohol, Lasagna and substances involved.)

Maybe it was the slightly blustery wind chill,
the humidity, or maybe even the
Middle American
down-home
small town college vibe;
but I got this overwhelming urge for BBQ from
Sam's in Austin.

I went to Sam's when I was in Texas
for the
Austin Film Festival
awhile ago.
(Best of Show:
"Randy and the Mob"
Capricorn Films)

Before going in, my host;
the good
Dr. Bombay
(see the link to your right)
told me we were walking into
the Church of BBQ.
Believe it.
The brisket is Beef Heaven,
rubbed with secret spices and
slow-roasted for 7-8 hours
over post oak.
served with
beans/potato salad
2 slices of white bread
and pickle chips
it's simply the Best
everything's made from scratch
and the sauce ... oh, man ...oh, man ...

Photos of family, friends,
and allsorts of celebrities
(look for an aging headshot of George Clinton behind the register)
line the yellowed walls.
Take your paper plate(s)
out back to the pinic table.

Papa don't take no mess
so clean up after yourselves.

Yes!
Lord, Yes !
I believe !

Doctor ... FedEx some BBQ quick

the brisket ...
must have ...
the brisket !
(and maybe some ribs while yer at it ...)

comments about that last Shitones show ...

2007-11-06T17:28:00.000-08:00

BEST FUCKING SHI-TONES SHOW EVER! (until the
>next one....ahem) .

It was a raucous crowd at the Octopus, such a celebratory mood.
St.Joe treated us to a pumpkin lid hat dance and
some sort of rowboat-on-the-floor shimmy.
Grant Washburn caught some of the show on 35mm film,
Jaime did a great light show,
Dave Jess was all smiles
and doing some really funky shit on that bass,
Shig had the crowd screaming "Shig33!!!"
and Jim just blew doors and minds as he always does.

THANK YOU, Shig, Dave and Jim for the warm squishy feeling *and* for
adding another one to the memory books. Hugs and kisses.

.... and lastnites show kixed my ass-
the interplay between Jim and Shig and Dave is what live music is all about -

EastSide sunset

2007-09-09T16:21:00.000-07:00

an email to share

2007-08-05T21:25:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to tell you the story of the interview we did yesterday afternoon with an iraq war veteran.

Jeff was in his mid-twenties, a nice jewish boy from connecticut, went to humbolt county when he turned 18 in search of a stoner/post-hippie lifestyle. but then jerry garcia died.

jeff said he didn't see himself following phish around and felt directionless as he left golden gate park after garcia's memorial that day in san francisco. he wandered a bit and suddenly looked up and found himself in front of an army recruiter's office and decided maybe he needed some structure in his life.

we weren't fighting any wars, so army life was simply a good place for jeff to find what he was looking for. and he did. he became an auto mechanic and excelled. he was a bit surprised but he loved the military life. he became a sergeant and in charge of his own group of soldiers/workers. he spent almost 10 years in the army doing this job and doing it well. he got married.

but then came operation iraqi freedom.

he ran a major motor pool in mosul. he wasn't "seeing action." he wasn't at the front. he never had to raise his gun.

but jeff was discharged with ptsd.

I know when you probably think of ptsd, you think of some crazy guy drinking and talking to himself or having flashbacks suddenly as he's walking down the street or perhaps it's a guy going on some suicidal type rampage. you also think of some guy who was in combat, in the infantry, not someone back on a rear detachment, running a motor pool.

but jeff has ocd which manifests itself as a compulsive cleaning problem. he spends his days at home with his two little daughters, up till recently he actually worked back with the army as a civilian, doing out-processing but had to quit. now, he cleans offices at night. because he needs to clean. it's all he can do now. his wife works during the day.

it was his own soldiers that went to his command about his ptsd. they were worried about him when he returned from his tour of duty. his soldiers said that his auto shop was so spotless you could eat on the floor. vehicles weren't getting fixed, but it was a very clean shop.

you see, as jeff said, what happened back in mosul was that their job was to repair or junk vehicles after they were attacked. if the vehicle was too destroyed, it would be used for parts or junked. otherwise, they had to get it back to a condition so it could be returned to that particular squad and reused.

but these vehicles also had to be cleaned, you see, because there were bits of brains and organs and blood of dead and wounded in them.

jeff didn't think it was right to send those vehicles back to the squads with bits of crusted matter that were once their friends. jeff also didn't think it was right to ask the soldiers who worked for him to have to do it. so he did it himself.

he cleaned those vehicles. more and more of them were coming in daily. and then he couldn't stop cleaning. and he still can't.

he had to leave the army. ten years of serving over and done with. the va gives him pills and some therapy.

he hopes when mark (our soldier) gets out of jail this week for desertion, he helps restart their old support group again. he anxiously hopes to have that place where once a week he can tell his story to some other vets who then tell their stories. one member of the group died last year when she drove her car down the freeway the wrong way. it wasn't an accident. it was suicide.

jeff makes some frozen pizza for his daughters after we're done with our interview, and then he has to leave for work. they like him at his job. they say he's a very good cleaner.

Maybe next time someone asks you why you don't support this insanity, you can tell them jeff's story.
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Lyell Fork, Tuolumne River, Yosemite Nat'l Park

2007-07-25T14:12:00.000-07:00

.... about 6pm

50/50 Brewing Co. Truckee, Ca.

2007-07-11T11:42:00.000-07:00

hey now!

Nancy and I motored through Truckee Tuesday and stopped in to
visit with Kyle Ashman, who with his brother Todd, are the brewers at 50/50 Brewing in Truckee.
I met Kyle when I first started playing with the Shitones.
(He's one of the tapers that has captured a few of my performances with the band.)
Almost immediately he generously comped us each a beer...
No time for the sampler; we wanted to shake the rain,lightning and
thunderstorm we drove through.( It was surreal. )

Nancy had the Maifesto Pale Ale
I had the Rockslide IPA.
Both beers were far superior to anything offered at that beach hut in San Francisco,
crisp, clean, cold and EXTERMELY drinkable ( I had 2 )
Kyle coudn't give us the tour because a cable TV network was filming
one of those local tourist ads
(and we eventually ended up in it ... yikes!).
We had big fun talking about beer, food and music.

50/50 has yet to advertise and the place was almost full;
folks happily drinking and eating.
A full menu made for some tough eating decisions.
Nancy and I both wanted burgers and we were not disappointed.
Great bugers,(bacon/ cheddar ....shuh!)
and the fries were waffle-cut for maximum cripsy-ness

Of course, we paid for our food and the second beer.

The place looks really cool...
fun colors, a full bar and and an easy-going Sierra vibe.
There will soon be an outside patio with heatlamps
and they expect the apre ski crowd will love it this winter.
There is plenty of room for a band and dancing
(roadtrip?.. . nudge, nudge...).

Kyle had to leave after a while, so we finished our burgers watching
some of the AllStar game on the bigscreens set around the room.
I was contemplating a growler of Belgian White Ale to bring home,
but decided on a 50/50 t-shirt with a cool tilted glass logo in
front and "find Your balance" on the back.
I figured the shirt would last longer than the growler....
;)

Many thanks, Kyle!

Beer *****
Food *****
Vibe *****

50/50 rocks.
you will not be disappointed ...

http://fiftyfiftybrewing.com

S.T.U.P.E.D.S. and Ms. Carol Channing

2007-04-22T02:45:00.000-07:00

L to R :
DJ, Eric Grothkopp, Laurie Amat, Ms. Channing,
J.Raoul Brody(and friend), O-Lan Jones, Jeff Kane.
a pre-performance shot in the Hospitality Room
at the Palace of Fine Arts Theater in San Francisco.
4/21/07

Carol and her husband Harry Kilijian are marvels in their vitality.
Their love for each other is infectious.
Sound check was truly amazing to watch.
Harry called music and lighting cues.
Carol gave a few staging directions.
Both were smiling and totally at ease with the house tech staff,
yet professional and business-minded.
They made it look so easy.

When we spoke backstage,
having a nosh in the Green Room,
Harry said -
"You look like you're enjoying yourself out there."

I told him I'm happiest playing
in such a great enviroment.

" What fun the theater is " he said.
" It's a great life, isn't it? "
All I could do was smile yet again.

Carol's performance was inspiring;
telling stories of her younger days,
singing some very familiar songs, strong, yet relaxed
and all done with a huge smile,
very much at home on the Stage.

I was impressed.

www.carolchanning.org

the Bacon 'tini

2007-04-21T02:03:00.000-07:00

After several months of exhaustive touring,
the votes have been tabulated:
the winner is
- The Bacon 'tini -

In order to fabricate this "alt / neu cocktail "
you'll need several items prior to mixing.

1) really good Vodka
I know the purists at
Persian Aub Zaum Zaum on Haight Street
are flailing thier arms in the air!
Sorry, Bacon and Gin do not go together.
If they did somehow manage to mate,
thier marriage would end up like
Alec Baldwin and Kim Bassinger.
OUCH !
We like Belvedere.
We like Ketel One.
We like Grey Goose.
Tanqueray,no way.

2) a sturdy glass
those stemmed 'martini-style' glasses
went out with last century
and we know a lot of folks who talk with thier hands ...
Better to use a 6 oz rocks glass.

3) a chilled cobalt blue 4 oz mister
($1.99 in the barware section at CostPlus ... it'll look so festive in your fridge and all your friends will think you're so creative.)
Into this you will pour 2 oz. chilled
Noilly Prat DRY Vermouth.

4) a Meyer Lemon ....
not orange, not mango, not grapefruit,
not honeydew melon sorbet.
We have an old tree in our garden,
so you must have one too.
If not, ...
well ...

5) Ice ....
We can't get too specific here but
good free-range water should be frozen to the touch
in your Traulsen and beaten into chips ...
we don't care how you abuse your ice
just whack it into chips.

6) the best cocktail straw you can find ...
we like the kind made by our friends in mainland China

7) Bacon ....
A lot has been,
and probably will be said about Bacon on this forum.
The Bacon we are currently recommending is:
Niman Ranch Organic
Free-Range
Uncured
Applewood Smoked
We suggest you not substitute any other pork product for this ingredient.
If this bacon is not available in your supermarket, perhaps it's time to try a more upscale market.
We've been informed that the
World's Largest Whole Foods is in Austin, Texas.
But we also understand in Texas they prefer the
" Pork Rind 'tini "
'Nuf said.

Le Methode:

First,ice the glass.
While the glass is shivering,
start by putting the slices of cold bacon into
a cold cast iron skillet
and cook the bacon slowly,
we can't overemphasize this ... SLOWLY
over med low heat.
Cooking the bacon at a low temp will discourage curling.
Turn often to achieve maximum 'cripsy-ness'
...about 7-10 mins.
Drain any and all excess drippinnin's
(is that you, E ?)
from the bacon on a paper towel.
Don't forget to turn off the range.
Remember:
Do NOT break the very brittle cripsy bacon strip!
If you own your home, pour the rended fat into a container
to dispose of when the garbage goes out.
If you rent, just throw it down the sink.

Now comes the magic !

Throw out the tired ice and replace it with fresh.
Find your new cobalt Blue mister half-filled with
the chilled Noilly Prat
and mist the ice gently ...
ONE SPRITZ ONLY!
( we like 'em DRY, like the Sahara )
Lavish the glass / ice / Noilly Prat with the Vodka of your choosing
^^^ see above ^^^
Garnish the cocktail by man-handling an eighth of a lemon
( that's a quarter of a quarter )
over the glass and dropping it in but
ONLY
after you've run the splayed guts of the lemon
'round the rim of the glass.
Slip two slender Asian straws gently into the beverage.
Take two very cripsy bacons and set them alongside the glass on a fresh linen cocktail napkin the maid ironed just this afternoon for this express purpose.
Put some tunes on the Box.

Sip the cocktail.
Savor the Bacon.

Accept no bartender's lie that THEY might have invented this.

Bacon !

2007-04-08T23:59:00.001-07:00

...try a Wahine and see ...

2007-03-02T13:50:00.000-08:00

For several weeks I've been sitting in with a great group of musicians
at the Park Chalet at Ocean Beach
the Shitones(shy-tones)
The Shitones play instrumentals and are a trio.
There are rarly any vocalists.
In order to gain insight into their repetoire,I took a jaunt to Santa Cruz Wedensday and spent some time at Club M, the clubhouse/recording studio owned by Mermen guitarist Jim Thomas, who also heads the Shitones every Thursday night .

While taking a break during our session,Mer-band archivist Sonie, Jim and I drove over to 'Pleasure Point' and took some fotos of beach toys sent from many adoring fans for use in their new website.
www.mermen.net
Mahalo

the Shi-Tones at Park Chalet

2007-02-02T10:31:00.000-08:00

Steve Brown
has made a wonderful recording of
Jim Thomas,Shigemi Komiyama, Freddie Roulette and myself
at the Park Chalet at Ocean Beach
November 16,2006

http://www.archive.org/details/shi-tones2006-11-16.flac16

a funny thing happened on the way to the Funeral ...

2007-02-01T14:49:00.000-08:00

As some of you might know, I play bass drum in a marching brass band,

"Excelsior"

("always upward").

We play at Asian funerals around San Francisco and Oakland's Asian Districts,
as does another, more famous unit;
the "Green Street Mortuary Band".
In a nutshell, the brass&drums dirges and hymns help to dispel bad spirits as the deceased crosses over into the next world.

Yes, we are paid for our services.

These groups of musicians are seasoned Local 6 professionals who move in mutual circles. Some of us play in bands together, it's just a matter of who's available, and when.
Our standard attire is
- a black suit
- white shirt
- black tie
- black shoes
- 'Capt's hat' ... think Thurston Howell III
( ..Lovey Dear,isn't it about time for a cocktail ?)

In most cases, we get a few days notice by phone or email.
On occasion, a couple weeks notice.
We march a few to several blocks and always at the head of the funeral procession
leading the hearse, trailed by family and friends, all of whom drive single- file. Traffic is blocked at intersections by motorcycle cops. We end the event by playing on a street corner as the procession passes on the way to the cemetery / interment.
We're sometimes asked to accompany the procession from the funeral home, to the street for marching, past a beloved business or social club or rarely, on to the place of interment to play graveside.
The number of musicians vary between 8 and 20.
We gather on a designated street corner or in front of the mortuary and await the arrival of the procession, and there's always a parade of humanity that passes us on the street.
Sometimes they want to talk about music.
The idle curious mutely hang around to see what's going to happen.
Some take out their video cameras to show the folks back home in Sheboygan.

* * * * * * * *

Today we're an octet, standing at the corner of 8th and Harrison in Oakland's 'Chinatown' district.
Our call (the time we arrive) was for 10.50am.
The procession had not arrived by 11.35.
So we're standing, waiting , gossiping , shivering ...

On the opposite corner is a 76 station, and a guy parks a van, and stridently walks across the street and over to the band. He opens up a beat-up day pack and offers the contents to us saying,

" Any of you want to buy some DVD porn? "

We can obviously see the goods he's displaying ....

" 5 bucks apiece or 6 for 20....
I just need enough money to get some gas to get back to Martinez ".

Well Of course!
The guys hanging on a street corner
in suits and funny hats,
idly holding musical instruments
were the most LikELy target for the stuff
and we had quite a hoot about it with the guy, but ...
sorry,
No sale.

He smilingly walked away, got in his van and drove off.
Laughter ensued for several minutes, as we tried to figure out how 5 dollars was going to get his van that far.

We marched 4 blocks after waiting 50 minutes.

R.I.P.

Hope the DVDPornGuy got to Martinez ...

2006-12-21T18:12:00.000-08:00

Taken on a recent visit to visit my "m&p" in SLO

I had the entire coast to myself, sharing the road with a few dozen vehicles and a beutiful full moon.

I've found that the Hwy 101 drive has lost some of its appeal in 30+ yrs of visiting SLO and the sunsets from the continent's edge just can't be beat