Beautiful, But Who'll Scrub the Toilets

Barbara Ehrenreich's new book This Land Is Their Land tackles the cost of beauty and the exclusion of working class people from the most desirable places in the U.S. This article from The Nation suggests the tone of the book and recalls my trip to Jackson last December (and a possible return in August). While Ehrenreich isn't nearly as patently annoying as Michael Moore, I do find that her work is a bit like his in that she puts a little bit of new wrapping on the same rant -- we live in an unjust and unequal society in which the gap between rich and poor keeps growing. A few solutions and examples of hope would be helpful. I find that I buy and start reading her books but stop about 2/3rds of the way through as they become increasingly repetitive and pointless. Perhaps I should just stick with The Nation excerpt for now.

The Return of MYEP?

Is this editorial graffiti on 24th Street between Bryant and Florida the work of the mad bomber and the Mission Yuppie Eradication Plan from a decade ago? I'd really not thought about these guys in years, but in these post-Prop. 98, troubled economic times, it's only fitting. It's interesting to look back at this article written from the third floor of the JunkPlex itself, now a dim remnant of what feels like a past as distant as the Civil War.

The Legend Across the Street

It's pretty cool living in the shadow of a local landmark, though sometimes the traffic it brings is a bit annoying. Over the past dozen years in the Mission, I've seen the St. Francis Fountain evolve from a sparsely populated place with cranky 60ish women in orthopedic shoes serving the then popular crab on sourdough sandwiches to its current standing room only hipster hang out on weekends. Though in business since 1917, it was sold by the founding family around the time of the Millennium, struggled, shuttered up for a few months and then was transformed by the owners of Boogaloo's. The owners seem to be part of the wave of transforming the east Mission into what the Valencia corridor was a decade or so ago. There are pros and cons to that.

The latest addition to the fountain came this week with the addition of the red and white awning for the increasingly popular outdoor dining. It's a cheerful addition in the middle of a very wet weekend, and I'm glad it survived yesterday's wind and rain storm.

There Goes the Neighborhood

If you told me even six months ago that I would be living two blocks away from a Sunset magazine Idea House, I would have said you were insane. Yet, there it is, the very place I derided as a "gaudy modern" in the opening episode of this season of Junk Thief TV.

Wasn't it just a couple of months ago that there was a shooting in front of my house? Time to trade in the ten-year-0ld Saturn for a Range Rover.

Zipping Around the 94110 and the 94105

A graphic reminder that San Francisco is not one coherent city but a collection of several samll, almost self-contained villages is evidenced in a trip from my very low-rise Mission District (94110) to the burgeoning urbania of South of Market centered around the new One Rincon Hill (94105) project. Though the tidiness of that neighborhood is refreshing for a little while, it doesn't take long to discover that it has its own rough edges.

Gentrification Not Yet Complete - Chapter 3,089

Holy bootlegs Batman! I get a good chuckle that this storefront evangelical church at 23rd and Folsom is now also a store for what I assume is a primarily copyright challenged operation. Oh, the Pope and Ted Haggard have done much worse. And the church ladies that come out of the place always smile at me sweetly as I give a garbled Spanish greeting. Wonder if they might have a copy of "How the West Was Hung, Part 34"? Naw, probably not.

Gentrification Not Yet Complete - Chapter 3,088

One of the best Italian delis in San Francisco is not in North Beach but instead just a few blocks over from the JunkPlex at 22nd and Valencia. Lucca Ravioli Company has always had a cool, nearly New York vibe. I find it a bit amusing that some folks complain that the old guys behind the counter are less than friendly and too abrupt. You want "Have a nice day"? Go to the Whole Foods in Menlo Park. The young guys are usually pretty hot, and there is usually a good selection of things for them to slice and wrap in white paper for you. The ravioli itself, I have to admit, is pretty ho hum, albeit fresh.

Though certainly in need of a little touching up, the current remodel going on today has me a bit worried that it may become some amusement park relic of itself. Mind you I have no problem with us reducing the number of shootings like the one last night just a few feet from my front door or the fact that there will soon be a Whole Foods barely six blocks away from me, but I hope Lucca remains just a little scruffy around the edges. And if they replace the swarthy Vinnies and Sals with blond surfer dudes, I'll just continue to get that fine red topping for my spaghetti at Safeway.

Gentrification Not Yet Complete

My neighbor that works at NetFlix now has two BMWs, the one-story cottage across the street reportedly sold for seven figures and the lines get longer each Sunday morning at the St. Francis Fountain -- all signs of the changes afoot in my part of San Francisco. Yet, my little corner of the Mission is not yet Noe Valley let alone Chestnut Street. (Like that will ever happen.) In case you need evidence, witness these two sights from this afternoon. The fellow a few inches away from my entry gate arrived around 5 p.m. (A cop came by and sent him on his way seconds after I snapped this shot.) Fifteen years ago this would have been heart-breaking and would have made my heart race. I can't say I've lost compassion for people in such a situation, but I didn't feel compelled to invite him in for a shower and a chance to sleep it off. If Joe Buck had walked by in looked down in dismay, would I be one more of the callous urban dwellers that walked by the scene as if it were no more routine than a discarded candy bar wrapper on the street? In my neighborhood discarded gin bottles are more common than Baby Ruth wrappers. I am sure there is a story behind this man. I'm sure it would probably make me cry were I to hear all of it.

The TV set which has been there since Wednesday has yet to disappear. If anyone who'd like it, I'll gladly deliver it to your door. I may deliver it to someone's door whether they want it or not.

Since the only apparel stores in the 'hood at the moment are $99 stores and women's vintage shops, I had to go up the hill to Noe Valley to grab a pair of new Rabat shoes and Hobo Por Tour bag, sort of in between a bike messenger bag and an outright purse. I promise to do my part for Pride Week by escaping the big parade hear and parading around with them while in Missouri next weekend.