|
Earlier this fall, Dontaye Ball asked me to host an upcoming "gumbo fireside chat" with him and two other guests. After I got over how fucking honored I was that he even thought of me, I eagerly said yes. The night turned out to be even more delightful than I could've imagined. I sat in conversation with Dontaye, Chef Wanda of Wanda's Cooking, and Chef Christina Alexis from the Pleasure Principle. The conversation took place at the San Francisco African-American Arts and Cultural District space, just next-door to Gumbo Social. Afterward, folks from Ayaba Wines paired their beverages with the offerings from Dontaye and the team at Gumbo Social. It was a whole damn thing, y'all. I'm very happy to be able to share video that was made of our fireside chat. Enjoy!
0 Comments
 Image courtesy SFFILM
I remember a trivia question—maybe it was Trivial Pursuit, maybe not, doesn't matter—that was something to the effect of, "Which US president served but was never elected?" It was a tricky question, but the answer was Gerald Ford. Probably around that same time, I learned that Ford's pardon of Richard Nixon was controversial, to say the least. None of this squared with Chevy Chase's impression of a fumbling Ford back in the early days of SNL. All this to say that the attempted assassination of Ford in San Francisco in 1975 was quite possibly the last thing I ever learned about the 38th president. And yet, it's the main topic of Robinson Devor's documentary, Suburban Fury. Or maybe the main topic of the movie is Sarah Jane Moore. I'm not quite sure, to be honest. This isn't your ordinary documentary, and that's fine. I love a good form/variation approach to art. Sarah Jane Moore is/was a creature of San Francisco, after all. By the doc's telling, it's hard to say exactly what brought her here and from where. But nevertheless, she arrived. There's a quiet, menacing, dull drone sound to the first hour of the movie that I have to assume maintains throughout (I unfortunately had to leave the movie early to take care of our aging dogs). And though I love the Vogue theater, it's old-fashioned and I'm getting old, so I gradually became more and more uncomfortable in my seat. Still, I was into this story. It involves, in no particular order: Danville, San Quentin, a prisoners union, the FBI, Patty Hearst, the SLA, "Popeye" Jackson, Oakland, Union Square ... I mean, with a lineup like that, what's not to like? The film is quick to point out that Moore stipulated that her participation in the movie hinged on hers being the only interviews. That's intriguing, right? What is she afraid of others saying? Yes, her truth is her truth. But why did she do it? For whom? Was it because of the pardon? Was it some deeper-state nonsense? More interesting to me than any of that, more than it all going down in Union Square, is that a divorced suburban mom pulled the trigger. Ford lived, of course. He wasn't even struck by Moore's bullets. I do want to know more about her, her motivations, her incentives, her accomplices, her truth.  Image courtesy SFFILM
It isn't everyday that I sit in a theater watching a movie and realize that the hair on my arms is standing up. OK, OK, I'm not gonna pretend that we're the same person. But! I will say that I relate to Janis Joplin on many levels ... mostly the "born in Texas/ostracized in school/found people in Austin/found myself in San Francisco" level. I didn't really know the Janis Joplin story before seeing Amy Berg's 2015 documentary Janis: Little Girl Blue. When I got this year's Doc Stories program, this movie caught my eye for that reason (that, and it turned out to be the first movie of the film festival). I knew I had to see this film. Of course, there are myriad ways that Janis and I are not alike. Fort Worth isn't Port Arthur. The 1980s are not the 1950s. And most importantly—I'm not a woman and I've never really suffered from depression or drug addiction. But Amy Berg's documentary does enough to humanize Joplin that the departures from my own similar experiences and hers elicit empathy. Over the course of the movie, I came to feel like Janis was a friend. I imagined both myself living back then or her being a contemporary of mine in the Eighties, and it felt natural as hell that we'd hang, in some alternate universe. Maybe that was always sitting there waiting for me to discover. Maybe. I like to give the director and editor credit, also, though. There's also hella SF/Bay Area in this movie. Duh. And you know how some movies, you know how they're gonna end. Or a book, a story, whatever. You know what's coming and think you're prepared. Then it happens, and it knocks you on your ass. Someone was definitely cutting onions at The Vogue toward the end of this film.  Image courtesy SFFILM
Walking into Ernest Cole: Lost and Found on Day 3 of Doc Stories, I knew a thing or two about the documentary I was about to see. The director, Raoul Peck, I knew from this 2016 doc about James Baldwin, I Am Not Your Negro. I read that Cole was a South African photographer who captured images of violence and oppression in his home country of apartheid South Africa. And that's about it. Whereas with Janis: Little Girl Blue, the subject's work and some of their life story are part of the cultural milieu, Cole's life and art were largely unknown to me, and to most of the audience at the Vogue on a warm October afternoon last weekend. But owing to Peck's ability to heavy-handedly orchestrate biographies while his final products show little or no sign of having been edited, Lost and Found wasted no time drawing me in. With the familiar voice of a narrator I later learned to be LaKeith Stanfield and a beautiful slideshow of Cole's images lovingly hitting audience members over the head with their raw imagery and the truth of Cole's account of life under apartheid setting the stage, something happened. Let me try to explain. I grew up in the late-Seventies and Eighties. Like most suburban American kids in that era, movies and TV were a huge part of my life. But it probably wasn't until the late-Eighties that, now a teenager, I learned about a segregated nation at the southern tip of the massive African continent. I have punk rock to thank for my education on apartheid. I wasn't seeing it the news, but I also didn't watch the news regularly. Since those formative years, it's a subject that I failed to ever really do a deep dive on, probably owing to the fact that it's something that happened so far away, and now, so relatively long ago. My memories and knowledge center around a freed Nelson Mandela, who would eventually become president of a desegregated South Africa. I'd heard a thing or two of the capitalist ransacking of that country, in the form of gold, diamonds, and other precious metals. But that's it, really. Back in the day, again, thanks to political music, I learned that the Shell Corporation was implicit in some of the worst machinations of the white supremacist regime in South Africa. I'm sure today that Shell and all the other major oil companies are ultimately up to no good. But I digress ... All this to say that Peck's documentary successfully took me in, allowed me to more deeply consider the lived experience of African people in the years of apartheid. I sat with myself in that dark theater and thought about what it must have been like to have no agency, to constantly be subject to fearful, distrusting stares, to police brutality, whippings, and sometimes, worse. Cole left his homeland with his evidence in tow. His photographs were banned back home, of course, but he never gave up on both trying to convince the world that there was bad, bad trouble in South Africa that needed to be stopped and for him to one day return to his homeland liberated. The former eventually happened, of course. The latter did not. He died in New York City. I owe a debt of gratitude, to Ernest Cole, to Raoul Peck, for driving home the horrors that once existed in South Africa. The lessons of, 1) never giving up in the struggle for freedom, and 2) that oppression takes many forms and really can happen anywhere, are successfully conveyed in this documentary. I now know who Ernest Cole is.  I've been waiting for this day for nearly three months ...
At least, it's time to hang up the cleats on Season 6. What better way to do that than with free food and music (you gotta buy your own drinks, you animal!) at one of my new favorite places in The City—Madrone Art Bar. Madrone and its owner, Spike, are of course the subject of the final episode of the season. Sheer coincidence, I swear (heh). Spike and I recorded back in May, which seems like approximately 17 years ago at this point. But I knew that the season would be ending in August, so I saved his podcast for now so that we could get together and celebrate all the things we love—food, music, drinks, cool places, and, last but not least, EACH OTHER! Brenda's Meat and Three will be on hand serving food out in the parklet. Get there early to be sure to get you some. Did I mention that it's free? Be sure to tip your server, though. And Aaron Hammerman of the Deep Basement Shakers will be on hand to provide the music—New Orleans-style ragtime, to be specific. That's also free of charge, but throw Aaron some bucks if you can. It's hard out there for artists. When I look back on this past season, I have so many fond memories. It's another kick-ass collection of things that make San Francisco so special. Things that fly in the face of the ever-fading "doom loop" (thank GOD). Things that make this place home. I hope you'll join me and several past guests of the podcast tonight. Come say hi to me and to them. Mingle. Let's all enjoy ourselves, yeah? Yeah! Storied: San Francisco Happy Hour Madrone Art Bar 500 Divisadero at Fell Wednesday, August 21, 2024 6–9 p.m. Food by Brenda's Meat and Three Music by Aaron Hammerman  Photo by Kodak Views
While everyone is wallowing in and obsessed with the presidential election and the bleakness that surrounds it, I want to turn our attention closer to home. We're voting for: mayor, district attorney, roughly half of the board of supervisors, and a whole host of ballot measures in four months' time, and shit is getting real. Last week, I joined Ange of Bitch Talk Podcast at The Battery (Bitch Talk are artists-in-residency there and I get in as a guest) for an evening of Q&A with mayoral candidate Aaron Peskin. Not sure whether I've shared this little anecdote in this space, but here goes: When I moved to San Francisco in 2000, I lived at California and Hyde, and the California Street cable car ran outside my window. I only rode it once or twice for novelty's sake. But I recall one day that fall seeing someone on the cable car campaigning for a seat on the Board of Supervisors. Nevermind that I had no idea who it was or even, at the time, what a board of supervisors was. The City was brand-spankin' new to me, and there was a romantic aspect of seeing someone in a crowded, dense city out there shaking hands, talking to people, asking for votes. Fast-forward to this spring, when Peskin threw his hat in a very crowded ring and announced his run for mayor. Right away, he became my candidate, for the very simple reason that his vision for San Francisco aligns most closely with my own. So Ange and I show up last week to a remarkably less-crowded-than-it-was-for-Daniel Lurie room at The Battery just looking to learn more. Moderator Heather Smith (Mission Local) started things off with the candidate rather typically (and I don't mean that disparagingly), with a brief introduction and some "soft" questions. Then she threw it to the audience pretty quickly, and things devolved in no time. People spouted talking-point attacks, most of which made no sense whatsoever, at Peskin. He maintained composure and did his best to parse the nonsense and actually, you know, answer questions ... if indeed there was a question buried somewhere in these rapid-fire screeds. It became apparent very quickly that these Battery members had shown up on a Tuesday during a holiday week not to listen or even truly engage with a candidate they might not know much about. No, they were there to give this scapegoat a piece of their very, very rich, land- and property-owning minds. There aren't enough gold-laced tissues in the world for these folks. I am posting this here and including it in my July newsletter because I came away from the event with the feeling that this was somehow all planned. I have no way to prove it (I'm not a journalist, y'all), but with some reflection, it really seems as though a coordinated effort was made. Some well-funded group or another (we have no shortage of them here in SF/the Bay Area) could've easily reached out to its constituency to ask any of them who also happen to be Battery members to attend and attack. I suppose the goal would simply be to dissuade others from voting for the sole progressive in the mayor's race. Conspiracy or not, the whole thing ended up being the opposite of what I'm looking for: True, honest, respectful engagement in local politics. I can only hope that things get a little more civil as we make our way to the ballots this November. San Francisco deserves better.  Photo by Angela Tabora
How are you? Are you, like me, a little exhausted by all of the everything that happened in June (and really didn't let up with last week's holiday)? I mean, I was just going to stuff, attending, not performing or organizing or producing anything other than a handful of kick-ass podcast episodes. Mad respect and admiration to those who were opening businesses, putting on film festivals, emceeing and performing in Black drag shows, organizing truly amazing, community-minded neighborhood outdoor film festivals, lighting the blades of historic theaters in world-renowned gay neighborhoods ... the list does literally go on and on. I'm a cis, straight white man. I made up my mind to go in hard on this year's Pride Month for a variety of reasons. Chief among them is the continued demonization and stripping away of the rights of my LGBTQIA+ neighbors and folks around the world, including here in what's left of the USA. I chose to use this platform, this community we've been building over the last seven years, to formally and publicly and loudly proclaim Storied an ally of this marginalized segment of the human population. Not with a fight, goddammit! Looking back on June/Pride, some of my favorite moments were at Frameline48 movies and events, North Beach Festival, and celebrating the full re-opening of the oldest known LGBTQIA+ bar in The City: The Stud. Check out our Episodes page for some of that. An amazing thing happened over Pride weekend as we headed back to San Francisco over the Bay Bridge after a heartwarming visit with some dear friends in the Oakland Hills. I had been seeing photos of the Illuminate the Arts rainbow laser beams shining from the Ferry Building all the way up to Twin Peaks, but hadn't yet witnessed the spectacle with my own eyes. After spotting SF drag icon Peaches Christ atop Salesforce Tower, we saw them: LASERS!!! I experienced a sustained feeling of "DAMN, I LOVE THIS CITY" the rest of the ride home. Let's continue to celebrate and uplift all the beauty and incredible people we share this space with! Cross-posted from my guest blog on 81 Dates ... When I first met Justin, we sat down at Red’s Java House and I asked him (in more elegant terms than this) exactly what the fuck the deal was. My friend Myla had mentioned a friend of hers who has season tickets in the Arcade section at Oracle Park (that name will never not be strange to me) and likes to take a different date to every game. He then writes about the experience on his blog. He was also looking for new recruits to join him at the yard. Sign me up!, I said. But I wanted to meet the guy first. It was on that day that I learned that I would, indeed, be going to the Giants-Rangers game in August that would be the setting for the return of Bruce Bochy.   This is a cross-post with Justin's blog, 81 Dates.
Technically, this blog post kicks off Season 6. I hope there are no statisticians or hard-asses out there, because, though we did do a bit of recording up in Club Level at Oracle Park, it will be a minute before we actually kick off our next round of podcasts. Anyway, S1 guest of our show, Myla Ablog, introduced me to her friend, a dude who "has season tickets in the Arcade section and is known as the Mayor of Section 152." Myla also let me know that Justin, as he's otherwise known, likes to take a different person to every Giants home game, and that he writes about the experience afterward on a blog called "81 Dates." This post is a cross-post with Justin's blog, because we thought it only natural to include it here because it is, technically, part of the Storied: SF experience. Enjoy, and check out 81 Dates for some highly entertaining writing. Jeff is the kind of guy who remembers specific at-bats and what they meant to a game or a series or a season; as you may recall, I am the kind of guy who remembers that we probably won some games that year, if I remember what year it was. At one point we get involved in a conversation with a guy in the 415 – he’s a Cubs fan – who talks in very specific detail about some postseason games with Jeff, and my main contribution to the discussion is to have asked where he got that hat (he got it for having tickets in the 415). I can’t say I’m actually insecure about the difference in our knowledge bases, because I can fall back on knowing which two Yankee pitchers traded lives, including wives, children, and dogs in 1973 (Fritz Peterson and Mike Kekich), which Jeff probably doesn’t. He is also the kind of guy who has a pregame ritual, which involves going into the Public House to get a beer before the game. I guess mine is trying to be in my seats in time to watch the guy who hoses down the field finish hosing down the field. Jeff seems to have his ducks in a row, with a wife who sounds like maybe a bigger Giants fan than both of us; he also tells of having been a pretty successful little Leaguer, until he got to the level where pitchers start to acquire real power but haven’t developed much control, which reminds me of my own baseball career and the time I got hit by a pitch, which was probably traveling about twenty miles an hour but was still very traumatic. I’ve been hit by a lot of things since then, but none of them left quite the same impression on my psyche – possibly because about two minutes after I got taken out, I told the coach I felt okay and was ready to go back in and was told that when you come out of a game, you’re out for good, which left me feeling both slightly bruised and kind of dumb. Later in the 415, Jeff declines the opportunity to stand right behind the bullpen catcher and watch the fastballs come in. We both have our emotional scars.  As we approach the end of Season 5 of Storied: SF, we're considering a few tweaks moving forward. We've already secured a nine-week art show at Mini Bar starting in August (for a little more info on that, check out our short bonus episode below). Sometime after that, in October or November, we'll bring the podcast back, but not necessarily on a weekly basis. That's because we want to do so much more ...
More art shows, music, food, poetry ... CULTURE. Live events. Getting out of your house and being with people. We're so lucky that it's safe to do so now, and part of what's gonna bring our city back is doing just that—getting out and appreciating the richness of this place. Hell, I'm even thinking about doing a zine! I want to ride this thing we've built and explore all the ways we can keep doing what we've set out to do from Day 1. Contra all the nonsense you see about San Francisco "dying" or "Doom Loop" stories, we instead want to focus on those of us still living our lives here and thriving in the face of what is definitely a funk. Check out our bonus episode from last week, where Jeff talks about some of this stuff. |
RSS Feed