2012 Rep House Wrap

Presenting my year-end 2012 wrap of film-viewing in rep houses from @HellOnFriscoBay http://t.co/ldlohoDO


Arty House Tour by Casa Sugar

Casa Sugar posted a visual tour of our home and our Bay Area art collection:


Passage Walkers at Mythos Fine Art

Saturday night, Jesse Michael's new band, Passage Walkers, played at Mythos Fine Art, the Berkeley gallery where Jesse and I are in a group show. After the short music set, Josh and I decided to check out the new Polanski film, CARNAGE (2011). What a perfect night, driven, overheated cow punk in a cinematic art setting followed by narrative noir and Jodie Foster's hot-tempered brilliance. Both events were righteously timed and well-written, with pointed endings. I really enjoyed the opening act and audience banter with special guest James Leste. His voice has an M. Ward timbre.
During the Passage Walkers set, Ralph Spite and Mick Leonardi kept a handle on the fast-strumming rhythm and sometimes surf-rock guitar licks, although Mick said he was sweating as much as if he had been playing thrash metal, not surprising considering the short breaks between songs and the 16-string sound coming out of his folky instrument. Jesse painted on a layer of low talking-singing during one number, punctuating the lyrics like a good story-teller. High points were when the three band mates sang in harmony and cut out at a precise predetermined moment, quickly damping their strings and voices, signaling a characteristically punk non-faded ending. I really look forward to hearing them play in a larger venue, with the vocals turned up a bit in the mix.

The Grapefruit-eating Gherkin

I'm hoping to cure this cold by eating a series of grapefruits and drinking their juices. I almost never use the still-shiny grapefruit spoons I bought a couple of years ago, shortly after moving to Prince Street. Grapefruit spoons always remind me of my late grandmother, Grandma Gert, aka Gerk. She was never one to double dip in the sugar bowl with a wet utensil. She scooped out individual servings of cereal and placed them in bowls before sunrise each morning when she was visiting. I don't remember a day when she didn't eat 1/2 of a grapefruit and place the other half in front of someone else. She ran a sharp knife around each fruity segment, even though we were eating with serrated spoons. When only the skin and bitter pith remained, she squeezed the sugary juices from each palm-sized citrus, showing the little ones how to drink from the side of a bowl, filtering seeds with our front teeth, natures strainer. After every meal she went to town with a broom, sweeping up our stray crumbs. Since eating grapefruit grandma's way, I've tried grapefruit raw and unsugared, grilled, served with mint leaves and honey, and in compote over thick icelandic yogurt. I wonder if those newfangled dishes would have appealed to the Gerkhin.