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American grandparents with my mother’s brother. About 1955. You can tell my grandma is thrilled that he’s about to fly off in this scary little vehicle. She was normally the life of the party and always laughing, so this is serious. Side note: my grandfather (house painter, cab driver, truck driver, military man) is only about 30 in this picture, but already completely grey. That’s what war can do to you.

 

Memories and Endings of an Older S.F.

I hope he is at peace. He will certainly not be forgotten. He always brought people together, and still is, as many people have been sharing stories about him all day.

RIP Guido

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Here’s Tom, probably saying something like “Get The Fuuuck Outta my Club!” That was his style.

*just heard through a friend who heard through the liquor store guy below Tom’s apt. that there were samurai swords involved. This story is going to get weirder….but it does not surprise me that he would leave this world in a really strange way.

Rule of thumb in San Francisco: if you want to know things, just ask “the liquor store guy”. They know everything about everyone in the neighborhood.

Age of Consent

I cannot be satisfied until I speak with angels
I require to behold the eye of god
to cast my own being into the cosmos as bait for miracles
to breath air and spew visions
to unlock that door which stands already open and enter into the presence
of that which I cannot imagine

I require answers for which I have not yet learned the questions

I demand the access of enlightenment, the permutation into the miraculous
the presence of the unendurable light

perhaps in the same way that caterpillars demand their lepidoptera wings
or tadpoles demand their froghood
or the child of man demands his exit
from the safe warm womb

~ Lenore Kandel

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The last gasp of summer.

The sound of Bebop Jazz can be heard in the distance coming from an open window of an old 1920s cabin here by the lovely Russian River.

Miles and his friends have followed up from the city…

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Guerneville, CA.
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Wasp nest in the tiny kitchen. We’ll just shut this little door and leave them alone.

In the morning, at around 7, a murder of crows pass over. They perch on the branches of a probably hundred-plus -year-old walnut tree. The shaking of the branches by the crows cause the walnuts to come crashing down onto the cabin. Good Times.