Archive for the ‘San Francisco’ Category

Dia de Santo Estúpido

A Parada de St. Stupid’s Day ocorre todo ano no Primeiro de Abril aqui. Organizada pelo Bishop Joey, da First Church of the Last Laugh, a Parada em outros anos protestou contra a Lei da Gravidade e o Sistema Solar.

Este ano, resolveram fazer um evento de caridade para a ajudar a Bear Stearns, coitadinha, comprada pelo JP Morgan por menos do que vale o prédio da sua sede.

San Francisco total. Na foto, John Law, DS Black e mais um cara aí que eu esqueci o nome ao lado do famosíssimo, incompreensível e eterno manifestante Frank Chu e seus cartazes impagáveis.

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Boca no Trombone

San Francisco é uma cidade extremamente politizada. As maiores manifestações contra a guerra do Iraque nos Estados Unidos foram aqui. E agora, com a chegada da Tocha Olímpica na cidade na semana que vem, não é diferente. A Câmara de Vereadores da cidade votou uma resolução na qual diz que a cidade receberá a Tocha Olímpica “com alarme e sob protesto”. Ou seja, está montado o banzé para a semana que vem, numa cidade com grande população Chinesa vinda de Taiwan ou que escapou do Grande Timoneiro Mao. E com um movimento pró-Tibet significativo.

Eu acho ótimo. Estarei lá para vaiar a Tocha quando ela passar semana que vem.

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A foto é de 2003, na manifestação contra a guerra do Iraque. 500,000 pessoas foram às ruas, numa cidade de 700,000 habitantes.

Tibet Freedom Torch Ceremony
Tuesday, April 08 2008, 8:00am – 5:00pm

Tuesday, April 8
Tibetan Freedom Torch Ceremony, March and Rally (Rain or shine!)

Where: United Nations Plaza, at Market & Hyde, near Civic Center BART

1100-1130 Press Conference (MC Giovanni)
1130-1135 welcome speech (Ngodup la)
1135-1145 Gyoto Vajrayana monks (lead prayer)
1145-1205 Chaksampa (Ngompai Dhon)
1205-1210 Introduce the torch (Youtso)
1210-1215 Receive and Light the torch (NA Chitue to Chris Daly)
1215-1220 Read the Statement (Giovanni)
1220-1225 Take Olympic Oath (Dasang)
1225-1230 Sing Tibetan National Anthem & Release Dove (Gyoto Monks)
1230-1235 Chris Daly Speech
1235-1240 NA Chitue Speech
1240-1245 Jamyang Norbu Speech
1245-12:50 transition/closing announcements (Dasang)

UN PLAZA to SF City Hall Torch bearer 1:00-1:10

CITY HALL to Chinese Consulate (arrive at 2:00)

2:00-2:05 National Anthem Flag Raise Ceremony
2:05-2:15 Jamyang Norbu la
2:15-2:20 Giovanni
2:20-2:25 Tendor
2:25-2:30 Tuku Tashi (speech in Chinese)
2:30-2:35 Larry Gerstein (ITIM)
2:35- 2:40 Tsewang Mingyur La
2:45-2:50 Denzi Monlum (words of truth) (lead by Gyuto and Nechung Monks)
2:50-3:05 Time cushion

MARCH BACK TO UN PLAZA 3:05-3:50 pm

UN PLAZA 3:50-4:00 PM
Taiko Drummers to welcome us back to UN Plaza. End of Torch Ceremony.

Break 4:00-6:00 pm

Join Richard Gere, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Tibetan leaders and other special guests for a historic rally and candle light vigil in support of the Tibetan people and their struggle for basic human rights. As China prepares to host the Olympics in August, the government is conducting the worst crackdown in Tibet since the 1960s Cultural Revolution.

Come show your support for the Tibetan and Chinese people on the eve of the Beijing Olympic torch passing through San Francisco – the only stop in North America.

Tuesday April 8th 2008
United Nations Plaza
1150 Market Street
San Francisco, CA
Civic Center BART

Rally & Speeches 6:00pm
Culture / Music 7:15pm
Candle Light Vigil 8:00pm

Quem dera fosse assim…

De volta

Pois é, tenho andado ocupado e este blog abandonado. Trabalhando feito um louco no web site que eu vou lançar djá djá, contruindo o paddleboard para a corrida no Hawai’i em Julho e organizando um mini festival de curtas aqui no galpão.

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E, recentemente, o Billboard Liberation Front remixou mais um outdoor aqui em San Francisco.

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E ontem, houve um jantar em benefício da campanha de Cindy Sheehan ao Senado, concorrendo contra Nancy Pelosi, que é a líder da bancada Democrata no Senado. Veio a própria e um monte de gente, mas eu estava com preguiça e não tirei nenhuma foto.

E só. Câmbio e desligo.

A minha sala de estar

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Este é o cenário de um filme que o meu chegado Jascha está rodando no andar de baixo do galpão. Dei uma ajudada na montagem, a Jenn também. Parte do cenário é feita de algas marinhas, colhidas na praia, o que deixa a nossa sala de estar com aquele cheirinho de maré baixa. Tudo em nome da arte.

O filme é um pseudo-documentário sobre uma banda tentando gravar a trilha sonora de um documentário sobre um pseudo-documentário sobre uma banda tentando gravar a trilha sonora de um documentário sobre um pseudo-documentário. Ou algo assim.

E não me pergunte porque eles precisaram fazer essa esbórnia toda na minha sala, ou porque precisa de algas marinhas de verdade. Acho que quando você começa a achar coisas desse tipo normais, como eu, está na hora de arrumar um emprego de contador, se mudar para Jundiaí e votar no PFL.

Monkeys, Fire Hoses and Parks

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So, the monkeys, right? You get this one monkey and put it in a cage. In the middle of the cage you hang a large bunch of bananas and put a ladder right under it so that the monkey can get to the bananas. All the monkey has to do is climb up the stairs and get a banana.

Except that every time the monkey climbs on the ladder to get a banana, you douse the monkey and the entire cage with a fire hose. With really cold water. And you do it enough times that the monkey starts doing the mental math that banana = cold water from a fire hose.

Now, you put a second monkey in there. Of course, the new monkey will immediately reach for the banana, but the first monkey will beat the crap out of him at every try. Because the first monkey doesn’t want to be fire hosed with cold water. At this point you don’t have to fire hose the monkeys anymore as the first monkey will make sure no one reaches for the banana. After a few pummelings, the second monkey also stops reaching for the banana.

Then you put in a third monkey. Same thing happens, with both monkeys beating the crap out of the third monkey. The second monkey is especially enthusiastic about dishing out punishment to the newcomer, even though he doesn’t know why. The third monkey will give up too. No one has been fire hosed since the time when there was only a single monkey in the cage.

At this point, you have a majority of monkeys who have no idea why they shouldn’t go for the banana but who will not even try or let anyone else try either.

Why?

BECAUSE IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN DONE THAT WAY!

That’s why.

Case in point: You live in a nice neighborhood. You decide you want to improve your local park by putting some art in it. You get the park neighborhood together, you find an artist with civic spirit willing to work for free, you get it installed. It’s a temporary installation. The neighborhood loves it. You go to City Hall to turn it into a permanent installation. The neighborhood association wants it. The Arts Commission is for it. The Neighborhood Parks Council approves it. A bunch of people speak up, every single one in favor of it. There is a pile of letters of support. Not one person is against it. There is nearly unanimous support for the idea.

Except for the Parks & Rec Department. Their reason not to support a permanent art installation?

BECAUSE IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN DONE THAT WAY!

So, that’s what happened to Jenn’s art installation in Juri Commons in the Mission. The message: if you try to do anything to improve your local park or get the neighborhood involved in keeping it, Parks & Rec will be there to make sure you fail.

The hearing was Kafkian. I’ve seen bureaucrats like that before, but in Brazil. I didn’t know we had this variety of paper pusher up here, especially in a city that prides itself in being progressive and enlightened. The disdain with which they cast their votes was amazing. They didn’t even make the pretense of giving a damn. The General Manager of Parks & Rec even let a loud sigh of relief when the motion was not approved. It was that crude.

Circus Redickuless

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A cachorra do Chicken, Dammit Dog, está fazendo 18 aninhos de idade amanhã. E vai ganhar uma festança. A cachorra mais popular de San Francisco já foi a estrela do Circus Ridickuless, um circo punk rock que o Chicken fundou nos anos 90 e viajou de costa a costa por vários anos.

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Basicamente, era um circo em que ninguém sabia fazer nada. Inclusive a Dammit.

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Parece totalmente idiota, e é. Mas é muito engraçado. E amanhã, no venerável bar 12 Galaxies na Mission Street, o Circus Ridickuless se juntará de novo, quer dizer, os que sobreviveram, para celebrar o aniversário da nossa querida cachorrinha.

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Mas o Chicken explica muito melhor que eu aí embaixo:

I just re-read the post I sent out last year for the show when Dammit (amazingly) turned 17. Well, she’s 18 this year and actually doing much better than last year. Dog acupunture actually works. Who knew? I’m officially a Californian. My dog gets acupunture. I can’t possibly write anything better, so I’m just gonna send this out again. (editing it just a little) I enjoyed re-reading it. I hope you do as well. And I hope you will join us at the show on the 18th. I had the most fun that I had in YEARS at the last show.

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In 1994 I wanted to do something that would impact culture to a degree that I couldn’t’ understand using a tool that no one else was using. I couldn’t figger out how to do that, so I started a circus instead. I couldn’t have ever relised that the 2 would intersect in such a confluence; I ended up living my thesis of: “Art for all purposes” using an interesting template…. ‘No content’ as ‘the content’. I sold people on the idea of providing nothing in the form of a circus show as a way to embrace the most inspiring show we could do. We would have no talent, thereby giving access to anyone. Then, I toured the show for 5 years. Actually, you could say I dragged the show around for 5 years… kicking a screaming and biting. If you could add up the calories spent in throwing a circus it would likely rival a small war. In the end, I guess it worked. I am proud that I and those with me ‘tipped’ the circus idea and inspired the THOUSANDS of small, independent circus’ that popped up here and there shortly after we toured. And longly. And they still are. That’s in the end. But in the beginning, it was just us. And boy, was it lonely. Lemme ‘splain: I call a club to book the circus. The conversation usually went like this:

CHICKEN: “Hello there, my name is Chicken John, I’m the director of a small, independent traveling circus that would like to play in your club. Do you have the night of April 23d available?”

GREASY CLUB OWNER: “A circus? What kind of music do you play?

CHICKEN: “Well, we’re not a band. We’re a circus. A full variety show.”

GREASY CLUB OWNER: “If your not a band, what kind of music do you play?”

On and on it went. You would say to people that you were a circus, and they would imagine clowns playing the guitar. No, just the clown. No guitar. A 25 person circus with 5 vehicles and 3 dogs. A full 3 hour show with lights and sound and acrobats and it’s all terrible. We put the OOOP in TROUPE, but we havn’t any talent. It’s the show of schmoes… blab la bla… I would try to explain that we couldn’t actually do anything but that it was actually better. Higher art. That was at first. I of course stopped doing that because no one wanted to book that. I ended up prostituting the idea that, indeed, clowns play the guitar. Clown girls doing strip teases. With, of course, giant boobs. Yes, we juggle. No one got it. Not even most of the people in the troupe. Unbowed, I continued. I thought that I would crack the code. Figger it out. Collect bling. I was young.

I’m no longer young. But the idea of the circus was an odd Zeitgeist that I participated in. A renaissance of art. There were a small handful of people who had a proclivity for the old ways… and in 1994, if you remember, it was all about particle board and the Pontiac Fiero. Interesting thing about particle board, like plywood isn’t made of particles… but I digress. The destination was marked, and we all ran screaming twards it. But like an oasis in the desert, the destination kept getting farther instead of further… and we ended up REPLACING instead of changing culture. Capice? It’s not bad, but it’s terribly interesting. It wasn’t a hobby, something that we did while holding down jobs and paying bills. We wandered from town to town trying to get people to come see a show that championed the amateur and the improvisation of a group of idiots with no talent. Without a dollar in our pockets. Seasons melted into years. Affecting culture and living your life as art blurred into survival. It became Quixotic.

I guess I’m still doing the same thing. Kinda. I ran for mayor without a platform. All the people of the circus were affected by it, understand it and are still contributing in some way. A lot of years have gone by. All the circus people scattered to the 4 winds. A few of them are gonna come out and play Friday night, at 12 Galaxies. Why Friday night the 18th of January?

Dammit the Amazing Wonderdog is turning 18 years old. This dog is better traveled then most people I know. She has had the most attention that a dog can possibly have. 25 people to throw the stick. Adoring fans. Her image on t-shirts, posters, coffee mugs and all of Hal Robins’ artwork for the circus. We named the production company after her. She was the only star of the circus. She had a theme song. She is now old. She had a little stroke thing, and is a little crooked. Listing, actually. I want Dammit to hear her song again. I want her to hear the roar of the crowd as she absolutely refuses to jump through the hoop. I want her to take home underage girls from Orinda after the show and tie them up and… oh wait, I do that not Dammit… I want her to do it again while she still can. And she can. Barely, but yes. She can.

Have you never seen Dammit’s act? Or Jarico’s? Did you know that the Bike Rodeo, the Black Label bike club and the Hard Times guys and Burning Man’s DPW were, at one time, soldiers that saluted one flag? That flag, ladies and gentlemen… was the Circus Redickuless.

An insult more then a concept, we took acts that generations of people honed to perfection and obliterated them with comedy and beer. With Jim Masons’ Vegomatic of the Apocalypse in the parking lot out back. A gang of angry drunk idiots on tall bikes and clowns that were molesting your girlfriend in the toilet. We were the island of misfit toys on tour. It was an experiment in freedom. In pre-9/11 America. I don’t think you could do that today. The touring part, not the performing part. You can see the performing part in everywhere. It tipped. ‘Other’ entertainments are now the norm.

As with the Odeon. When I opened the Odeon (the project after the circus) I only booked things that couldn’t find a home elsewhere. By the end of the Odeon’s’ usefulness, I was competing with all the other clubs in SF for ‘my’ acts. Problem solved, time to move on. I’m not saying we were the only ones breaking that horse… I’m just saying that we helped. We’ll have to wait until HBO does the made-for-TV-movie of Steven Raspas life before we find out who was REALLY responsible for the ideas that ‘broke’ fun fur and fedoras… and I am not going to be the first person to write a book about something that omits a person or two because I’m an asshole. There are books. And a lot more.

There is a movie. Phil Glau made a 87 minute film (16mm). A tour chronicle. ‘Tour de Farce. It won 17 film festivals. It’s hard to watch. Your depressed when it’s done. He put it out on DVD last year, with some “10 years later” footage at the end. Seeing Jarico a dozen years ago is magical. We were all children. Dannygirl, Michael Gump, Mark Miller… they will all be at the show. Also David Apocalypse, maybe Tall Who Is Paul, and if we’re lucky we may get auther Brian Doherty (This is Burning Man) to do his famous “Human Human” act. Phil will be there with his new DVD. You wont’ buy it, but you will feel comforted that you could google it if ya really wanted to. It’s nice to have that kind of ‘access’.

The final nail in the coffin of the Circus was a 13 page spread in Spin magazine. I probably don’t have to tell you what happened after that… lets just say that we couldn’t live up to our own hype. As no one really can. Defined by a story, and no longer available to possibility, the honeymoon ended. No one could run away fast enough.

We all likely wish we didn’t, now.

The Circus Redickuless was a great thing. Come witness failure defeated, mutated into something that can be argued as a success that may or may not be amusing to watch.

THRILL! To the unyielding SPEEDMETAL TAPDANCE

CHILL! The bone chilling spectacle of the GREAT SILLOUETTO, shadow puppeteer

SPILL! Your drink, while whistling to Meagan, our supple, milky REVERSE STRIPPER

WEEP! Dr. Hal brings you the truth of the future with OUIGI RAIDO

PUKE! Our VEGAN GEEK will bite the head off a lettuce

GARGLE! As our JUGGLER astounds gravity

BLUSH! At our scantily clad TEMPORARALY TATTOOED MAN

ROCK! To the sounds of the ODEON ALL STAR BAND

HAIL! To the only star of the circus: DAMMIT THE AMAZING WONDERDOG

CRINGE! Ringmonster CHICKEN JOHN sticks stuff up his nose and pulls it out his butt

Flambe! IGOR IGNITOR sets the club on fire

Bottlecaps! Delight in wonder at the INVISIBLE TAP DANCER

BLING! To the rapping MAD COW, biotch

…All this and the WORLDS LONGEST SOCK PUPPET to start the night off.
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O Melhor da Mulher Pelada

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Semana passada aqui no galpão foi a exposição da Monica Lundy, irmã do meu amigo Zoli. Várias pinturas de nus, pintadas com espátula. Interessante a técnica. Tipo as gostosas do Caco Galhardo, mas em telas. Mas interessante mesmo foi reconhecer algumas, arrã, conhecidas, ali retratadas.


Resoluções

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– Conquistar a Europa, a Oceania e um outro continente à minha escolha.

– Descobrir de onde raios vem a expressão “Hubba Hubba”.

– Emplacar o kimono como a última moda dos descolados de San Francisco. Se não der certo, tentar o poncho.

– Usar o fio dental continua sendo opcional, mas passa a ser altamente recomendável.

– Encontrar prazer nas pequenas alegrias do cotidiano, como negar esmolas a mendigos.

– Tomar cuidados com o corpo, como por exemplo não esbarrar em pessoas e/ou objetos. Se possível, tentar não cair de clarabóias (aconteceu em 2007..)

– Segunda Divisão também é cultura. Avante Coringão.

– Continuar a luta pela erradicação da pobreza deixando objetos de valor à vista dentro do meu carro quando eu o estaciono no Lower Haight.

– Trabalhar como se ninguém estivesse olhando, amar como se eu não precisasse de dinheiro, dançar como se eu nunca tivesse sido sacaneado.

– Ver o sol nascer mais vezes. De preferência, sem estar deitado na sarjeta com um vira-lata lambendo a minha cara.

– Passar no curso de Semiótica Desconstrutiva de Charges & Cartoons do Frankenstein Jones. Depois, ler os quadrinhos da New Yorker e dar risada como se eu tivesse entendido.

Natal em San Francisco

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A Lua sobre a California Street, em Nob Hill.