Menu Close

San Francisco

18 February 1999

What is SOMA?

Since I’ve had several email messages about this recently, it’s time for the annual reminder, mostly directed toward non-San Franciscans and those who came in via search engines.

SOMA is the official acronym for South Of Market Area, which is my neighborhood in San Francisco. It has nothing to do with any prescription painkiller nor is any reference to Aldous Huxley implied. SOMA is nothing but a mildly annoying real estate term.

This is an amazing neighborhood and Planet SOMA was originally all about South of Market. A large part of the site still is, in one way or another.

Love and hate:

Things I hate today: HTML-formatted email; beets, green peas, and pickles; TCI Cable; sunny days in February…

Things I love today: Nikko’s Diner in Oakland; NewsRadio (still…); the rain’s coming back…

Jack London Would’ve Eaten Here…

Jack London Inn

Jack London would probably never have eaten at most of the restaurants in the square which bears his name. It’s hard to picture Jack diving into a plate of frozen jalapeno poppers at T.G.I. Friday’s. I can’t visualize him in a generic franchise like the Spaghetti Warehouse, nor in the neo-cuteness of Hahn’s Hibachi. Sandwiches and pastries at Barnes and Noble would have been out of the question.

Across the Embarcadero, however, in the 60’s modern Jack London Inn, there exists a corner coffee shop which might very well have been to his liking. Alternately known as Kelly’s and the Jack London Coffee Shop, this is one of my favorite spots in the Bay Area.

Kelly's

Kelly's

The menu ranges from diner standards to soul food. Meats include amazing pork chops, meat loaf, fried catfish, barbecue, and chicken in a basket. They also serve a pretty fair hamburger. The real stars, though, are the vegatables. A “greens plate” at $5.50 includes collard greens, yams, macaroni and cheese and two other sides. This plate can also be combined with a meat for a mega-meal.

The place hasn’t been remodeled since about 1962, which is a big plus for yer humble host. Aqua booths and counter stools, colorful tiles, and a giant map of old Oakland are the decor. There’s a pretty interesting-looking bar connected.

Kelly's

I’ve hit the place several times with Dan the ex-roomie and once with co-conspirator Sarah. She had chicken. She was amused. Turns out my regular waitress is now one of the owners too. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

Sunday is the best time to visit, to catch all the dinner specials which attract the after-church trade. Service is sometimes a bit sluggish, but it’s worth the wait. We hope Kelly’s never changes. It’s one more antedote to the cuteness which is swallowing San Francisco and the Bay Area.

Kelly’s Coffee Shop, Jack London Inn, Broadway at Embarcadero, Oakland.
Open 24 hours. Some credit cards accepted.

Randomly San Francisco

So just when I’m starting to get excited about living alone in the Planet SOMA factory, I find out that for the next three to six months I will be living in a construction zone.

Between the freeway retrofit, which should be noisy as hell and will eliminate an unbelievable amount of parking, and the ugly loftominium going up across the street, life should really suck for a while. Earning the rent should be pretty easy, though, considering I’ll never be able to sleep past 7AM, or to leave the house in my car (assuming I plan to park it when I get home).

The freeway is a necesary evil, I understand. The loft isn’t. Here’s a thought: if my new neighbors have a right to shut down (or curtail) bars and clubs because of the noise, don’t I have the right to stop construction of a new yuppie slum for the same reason?

Probably not…

Interesting story on SF gay nightlfe in today’s paper. Seems our “community” has “grown up” enough to be fascinated by sterile bars with more upscale patrons. Much of the Castro is jumping on this bandwagon. Shouldn’t be a very long jump…

Fortunately, the South of Market dives are still dark, dirty, and smoker-friendly (for now), and I’ve neer seen anyone reading the Wall Street Journal in My Place. Down here, it is still possible to engage in a semi-public dalliance (as I did last night) with a boy who looked like a cuter version of Beck and his dreadlocked friend. I’m not sure if they were a couple.

Speaking of dives, there’s a new diner on the site, should you care…

Heatwave

Damn it was hot the past couple of days…

Of course, by San Francisco standards, this means it may have hit 80F (27C). Longtime readers know that I have no great love for overabundant sunshine or hot weather. It’s especially annoying given that it was rainy and windy and pretty damned cold last week. A little compromise might have been nice.

I felt precariously clse to white trashdom Thursday night as I sat here in front of the fan, with the TV tuned to “Scared Straight: 20 Years Later”, and wearing nothing but a pair of beat-up gym shorts. I felt the urge to put an old upholstered sofa out on the porch and have a beer.

Of course, I then realized that, while I do have a deck (which is sort of a porch) I still don’t own a sofa right now, upholstered or otherwise.

Tonight’s plan is to hit one of the local taverns and pick up some nice boy with an air-conditioned apartment.

Yeah, I know I’m a weather wimp. I realize that my definition of “hot” may sound a little ridiculous. The lack of a discernible summer is one of the main reasons I moved to San Francisco, and one of the things which may ultimately keep me here. It’s pretty much a given that I’ll never get the urge to move to Florida or Palm Springs.

Things I love today: air-conditioned supermarkets, Frosted Mini-wheats, re-watching my video of US Tour 1997 for the first time in months, not shaving.

Things I hate today: Gap commercials, parking tickets, the moths which have invaded my kitchen, the weather, perpetual construction everyplace I go.

Things I wish I had today: a sofa, a Double-R Bar Burger from Roy Rogers, an air conditioner, the time to take a good road trip.

I Want My Recession Back

When I first moved here in 1992, San Francisco (and California) were still feeling the lingering effects of a major recession.

I want it back.

It sure was fun here back then. Things were expensive here even then, but people with marginal jobs and marginal incomes could still move to the city and have intereting lives. It was possible to share an apartment for a few hundred dollars a month. It was possble to rent whole houses in Potrero Hill for about a thousand a month. If you looked hard enough, you could still find a certain seediness even in sanitized zones like the Castro, in places like Castro Sataion or the doughnut shop across the street.

South of Market was a great place: it was cheap, you could park on the street, the bars were fun, and you could even find … ummm … companionship walking down Folsom Street or among the still-industrial alleys. South of Market residents were a quirky and odd bunch, and most of my friends couldn’t believe I lived here. AIDS paranoia was lifting and the “new golden age” of sex clubs like Mike’s Night Gallery and the Church was flourishing in cheap Victorian flats. And a live/work loft was a drafty warehouse which provided cheap space for artists.

The dowdy, 70s-era Safeway down the street was never crowded. The 12-Folsom buses ran on time. Sort of.

The came the boom. Now the economy is jumping. What have we gained?

First of all, it ain’t “jumping” for everyone. A certain set of skills is needed for this economy and not everyone has them (or can get them). And, of course, what’s really “jumping” is low-paying service jobs, which means a smaller proportion of people are making any money anyhow. And these jobs most definitely don’t pay enough to survive in the new San Francisco of $1000/month studio apartments and $400,000 one-bedroom condos.

So once again, what have we gained?

A new whiter and wealthier demographic, for starters. The marginal types who used to make the city lively and interesting can’t afford to move here anymore. San Francisco has always depended on new arrivals of artists, musicians, and immigrants both for its character and to staff its many service jobs. Sure…we’ve added new jobs, but most of these jobs just won’t pay the rent. Very soon we may face a city populated by upscale citizens who wonder why (a) it’s just not very exciting here anymore and (b) why Starbuck’s can’t “just hire more people” so the latte lines would move faster.

We’ve also gained the privilege of living with perpetual construction. Everywhere. It’s noisy, it’s irritating, and it slows down the traffic (which has also increased). We get to watch neighborhoods overrun with poorly-designed plywood “luxury condos” and wall-to-wall chain stores.

We’ve become a city which targets the homeless rather than the economic and development issues which make MORE people homeless. We gleefully allow developers to destroy neighborhoods and drive up rents in the name of “progress” and then run the displaced out of town or throw them in jail.

We’re fast becomg a city of chain stores and trendy bistros and brewpubs, where it’s easier to buy a $400 lamp than a $4 hammer. We’ve sanitized our back alleys, eliminated smoke-filled bars, and all but guaranteed that anyone who can’t make the cut financially or socially will not be able to move here and cause trouble.

South of Market bars are packed to the rafters with gawkers looking for a scene which hasn’t existed here in quite some time (not that they want to PARTICIPATE in this no longer extant scene, mind you). I don’t dare drive anyplace during the week, lest I find myself unable to park when I get home. Even the tastefully renovated Safeway is a nightmare.

Yup. Things are jumping in San Francisco. This economic boom has a lot of people thinking about jumping the hell out of here.

I miss my recession…

The Loft That Ate Langton Street

So the piece of shit yuppie slum across the street just gets taller and taller and uglier and uglier, once again begging the question of just who pays $350,000 or more to live in a drafty condo constructed of plywood? And given the IQ level of these individuals, do I really want them as neighbors?

There’s a good article in the generally useless SF Weekly this week about the Planning Commission’s latest “live/work reforms”.

All the same, I know the neighborhood is not completely sanitized yet. I watched a guy break into a car the other night from my office window. It was a BMW and it had a loud car alarm, so it was hard to find much sympathy. Besides, what was I going to do? Call the police? By the time they arrived, the guy would have been long gone. I, on the other hand, would have been kept up way past my bedtime.

Note to assholes in BMWs: car alarms do absolutely NO good and often make people even LESS likely to help you out.

Also on this exciting Friday morning, I’ve been spammed by voice mail. I’m not talking about a telemarketer who left a message. Someone apparently got a list of voice mail boxes within Pacific Bell and spewed forth an ad within the system suggesting that recipients call his “information line”. Of course, Pac Bell’s response to my complaint did little to inspire confidence that it won’t happen again.

Still working on naming those plants and still thinking about that bathhouse issue. And look for some other really bitchin’ cool stuff tomorrow or Sunday…

Yay! Summer!

It’s freezing cold, windy, and foggy. Summer has arrived in San Francisco. I love it.

I can always tell a holiday weekend has arrived. The hits on the web site go way down starting by about 3:00 on Friday afternoon. And by Saturday evening, I’m drowning in spam. It’s a very predictable pattern, repeated over and over throughout the year.

All in all, it’s been a good weekend so far. Had dinner at Tad’s with Dan on Thursday night, followed by a relaxing drive through Bayview/Hunter’s Point (no irony intended). I crammed a lot of work into Friday so I wouldn’t have to think about it on Saturday and Sunday.

After a really fitful sleep of mildly disturbing dreams, I had Saturday morning coffee (OK…I had a Coke) at Brainwash with a gentleman from Todco (a non-profit which builds affordable housng South of Market) and discussed the ramifications of Loftomania.

And then it was off to the Doggie Diner for Sarah’s birthday burger, followed by a trek to The Attic, my favorite junk store in the Sunset. Sarah bought old postcards, and I scored two old San Francisco telephone directories (vintage 1962 and 1978). I can’t quite explain how excited I was to find these, and I really don’t expect anyone else to understand. I’ll expand on it later, but you’re allowed not to care.

Best discovery of the weekend is that Bringdown #5 is now available on a World Wide Web near you.

Feeling suitably bitter, I’m now about to go out in search of some memorable tourist dick to celebrate Memorial Day. Wish me luck…

East to West

Sunburned again. And it seemed so damned overcast when I started. I went on another one of those urban mega-hikes on Monday afternoon. This time, I accomplished something I’d never done before: I crossed the entire width of the city, from the bay to the ocean, on foot.

I didn’t really plan it this way. I just started walking. And I kept walking and walking. Past Union Square and the Civic Center and onward through the Western Addition projects. I crossed Divisadero, where the honey-baked ham store sits across the street from the Jewish mortuary. I wandered past the old Sears store at Geary and Masonic and into the Richmond District.

By the time I hit Green Apple Books at 6th and Clement, I knew I wasn’t going to stop until I hit the Pacific. And I didn’t. I finally came to rest atop a hill amidst the ruins of Adolph Sutro’s mansion overlooking the sea.

Then I got on a bus and came home. I’ve spent the rest of the evening recovering.

Why do I do this? Mainly, because I can. Having a walkable city is one of the biggest benefits associated with living in San Francisco, even for a diehard road tripper like myself. Long-distance walks allow you to see things you don’t notice from a car or a bus. Seemingly dull areas develop unexpected nuances and textures.

I recommend it, even though eight miles may be a bit much. Maybe it was jut frustration from not getting laid this weekend…

8 June 1999

Extremely busy and hectic weekend. My apologies to anyone who’s waiting for me to answer email. Tomorrow, I promise…

Sunday’s “Stop the Hate” rally in the Mission was indeed the put-on I’d imagined. Mind you, it was a serious event and serious issues were discussed and publicized. Essentially, though, it was a brilliant piece of street theatre.

Duncan’s here, I’m playing tourguide, and I’ll have somthing more interesting to say soon. Maybe…

Time to Get Out of Town

Pride Weekend is almost upon us again, and I’m fishing for suggestions on where to go for the weekend.

By most accounts, the last weekend in June is San Francisco’s biggest tourist invasion of the year. I have nothing against tourists, mind you, but you can’t begin to imagine how upleasant it becomes around here during the influx. The bars are packed, parking’s a nightmare, and the rainbow-clad masses drive me into something resembling a homicidal rage.

Which is why it’s best for all concerned if I just get the hell out of town and skip the circiut parties and the five hour marathon of narrowly-defined labels and product marketing opportunities on Market Street. I’ll understand if no one misses me.

Now for a bit of good news: it turns out Tad’s Steaks on Powell Street will remain open in its current incarnation. A month or two back, it looked like this amazing piece of old San Francisco would be replaced by yet another foofy pasta joint. Word last night (upon dinner with Sarah, Dan, and Brad) is that the deal is off. Tad’s is safe, and we got free wine for caring.

I love Tad’s. Score one victory for the non-trendy, non-yuppie, non-fluffy, non-chain version of Sodom by the Bay. Herb Caen would be pleased.

As I close, let me rephrase my comments to stupid yuppie bitch in the Volvo who almost took out five pedestrians at Mission and Fremont this morning as she ran a red light (in case she didn’t hear it as I yelled at her): “You’re driving a car in heavy traffic. Get off the goddamned cell phone, you fucking idiot!”