Jackie Link's Blog

- A blog for no good reason

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Take me out to the ballgame

My old friend Ron asked me to go along to the Dodgers vs Giants game last night.  We used to ride our bikes there, but this time we took the T-line on 3rd Street to the ballpark.  It's like being on vacation in another country, or going to the circus, it's all so strange and different to me.

Years past he had view seats, way up high, overlooking McCovey Cove. This year they're at ground level behind left field, not bad, but not as much fun as watching all the action in the water.  (Without Bonds' home runs over that wall, not as much action these days, I guess.)  I had some garlic fries.

Even better, another shut out win and a happy crowd.  Beautiful night.  And the return ride home on the streetcar was fun too.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

What's it about?

I stopped to take this picture in Clarion Alley today because I thought that was a stylized sea turtle swimming away.  When I showed it to Judy, she thought it was a bird flying.  Of course, that's what it is: some kind of bird with a pack on its butt, wearing a crusader's cape.  Weird, how I see turtles everywhere!  (Worth clicking to enlarge.)

Now, as I process the image files I want to know what the memorial statement means: “Avec amour et respect pour MOEBIUS” Bode . Cuba . Stan 153; and, by Googling, discover that Moebius is the pen name of French comics artist Jean Giraud, who died from cancer at the age of 73 in Paris on March 10, 2012.  Moebius was best known for his unique design work on The Fifth Element. He was the creator of the popular comic strip Lt. Blueberry. Moebius also contributed storyboards and concept designs to other numerous science fiction and fantasy films, including Alien, Willow, Masters of The Universe and Tron. Along with a Silver Surfer collaboration with Stan Lee. . Moresay.com

That catapulted me into more than I want to know right now, but goes to show how educational our murals can be. . . aside from being so darn pretty.

Now I want to learn more about the muralists, Bode, Cuba and Stan 153, too. It never ends.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Masks. Lots of masks.

After washing all the dirty dishes in my open cupboards (though they're rarely even used), I decided to get a Super Vegetarian Taco at El Toro Taqueria on Valencia & 17th St.  On my way, I rode 24th St., hoping I'd see something different to photograph.

I locked up my town bike and walked around a bit and saw a lot of colorful masks on display outside a store.  Worth digging out the big camera for . . . but after taking a bunch at various angles a woman asked me if I was planning to sell the pictures.  No, I said.  She was pretty agitated about people taking and then selling their pictures of the merchandise without permission.  It never occurred to me that I'd look like the sort of person who would or could sell their photographs.  I tried to reassure her that I was just an amateur with a big camera.  Not sure she was convinced.

So.  Ya wanna buy?

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Dinner with Jill

I met Jill for dinner last night at the Roosevelt Tamale Parlor on 24th Street.  We hadn't been there since she was a little girl.  She thought it looked a lot smaller now.

Sibyl is still working on that damn egg.  If I leave the house for the day she will drop it from the high perch, it will break, and I still won't know anything new.

6/13: She dropped it in her sleep cage and it was broken when I found it this morning.  The shell appeared thick enough to have been delivered intact.  She'll spend today quietly gathering her strength for the next round.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Caught between an egg

. . . and gardeners tending the yard around the house.  They've trimmed back the overgrown bougainvillea and cleared off the upper yard in front of my bedroom window.
Sibyl yawning
Sibyl is quiet, being very still, ready to drop an egg.  It worries me because if she isn't getting the right amount of calcium she can die from egg binding.  So far this year she has dropped four broken eggs, though whether they broke after leaving her body, I can't tell.  That is why I have her on her low basket nearby, where I can perhaps witness this new egg emerge.

 At 4:00, no egg yet but I've used the time to take her picture in front of the black TV and work on image files.  I'm trying not to worry about her too much.

The gardeners are gone.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Above the beach

I rode to Ft. Funston today and watched people climb back up this cliff from the beach.  No way was I going down there and back without an elevator!  But, really, it was a splendid day for it, the first warm day without fog and fierce winds.

From there I rode up the Great Highway, dodging drifts of sand now piling up on the lee side of the road, and stopped in again at the Beach Chalet.

This time I focused more on the people in front of the frescoes. 

Saturday, June 09, 2012

Beach Chalet photographs

 On my ride to the beach on Thursday I stopped in at the Beach Chalet because the cold wind was blowing too hard to continue - a near gale.  The light was even cold, making the 1936 WPA murals by Lucien Labaudt look so delicate and airy that I decided to re-photograph them. 

" And this dog here, this big Saint Bernard used to come every day to have a drink in the Beach Chalet, you know, they have a big fountain there. So Lucien said, "Well, as long as you come everyday, I'm going to put you in the mural." So he put him in the mural, you see, and that Mr. Mackey is holding the dog." Marcelle Labaudt, interview 1964.

I really love this room covered in frescoes and mosaic tiles and am so glad it's been saved and restored (1988) for all to see.  Each time I stop I mean to photograph the placards that probably explain who the people are and the story being depicted.  Both new bay bridges can be seen in some views, since these were done while they were being built.

Photographing them lets me explore them in detail.  And I always want to hurry back for more.

Wednesday, June 06, 2012

The unwritten life

Lately, I've not remembered experiences I've apparently had when they come up in conversation between mutual friends, things we either all did together or somehow shared, like a recent symphony extravaganza about the Barbary Coast.  It took me the longest time to figure out what they were talking about, and that I'd loved that whole evening---less than a month ago!

I used to either keep a private journal, writing down what I did and thought fairly often, sustaining my own story, or I'd make a blog entry here---less private, perhaps, but it too kept me actively knowing what I was doing with my life!  Now, when anyone asks what I've been up to I draw a mental blank.

It seems if I didn't put it in writing, it didn't happen.

To paraphrase Socrates/Plato: Is the unwritten life worth living---or even lived?  In my case, perhaps not.  It seems to me I've just been putting one foot in front of the other, no longer watching where I step.

This fall I'll be taking a course called, Once Upon A Brain: The Boundary Between Self & Story, taught by Thomas Lewis, M.D.    As he writes in the course catalog: . . . our identities are found in Story: from the (largely fictional) personal narratives in our memory banks to the culture‐defining stories in myths, stories tell us who we are. This class will examine what neuroscience can tell us about the nature of the Self, the nature of Story, and the interaction between them. Why do we think in story‐form? Why do we dream in stories? What is it about stories that make them the focal point of entertainment and art? Why do young brains have an insatiable appetite for story? 

And, if I wait too long to take a good look where I've stepped, my story can and probably will be rewritten ---not always a bad thing.