City of Saint Francis

The Guzzi is in the shop, and the news is not good. Repairs to the damage caused by a neighbor backing into the bike will be in the multiples of thousands of dollars. This means it's time to get insurance companies involved. And I probably should have gotten them involved at minute one.

Today while I was feeding a vacationing friend's cat, someone backed into my parked motorcycle with her car. After months of living with shot steering bearings I finally got them replaced less than two weeks ago. Now my steering is messed up again.

I don't think its too bad but the mechanic's shop doesn't open again until Tuesday. It appears that the bracket that limits the range of steering is bent, as I can turn the handlebars all the way to the tank to the left, but only about fifteen degrees to the right. I believe that it's safe to ride; fifteen degrees is much more than I need except when I'm parking or getting around in a parking lot.

The people at Landmark have a thought-provoking piece of advice: be unreasonable. While this may be related to the idea of using one's faculty of reason, it is not quite the same thing. The suggestion is that we (human beings) often get caught up in a web of reasons for the actions we take, and the suggestion they make essentially means to take responsibility for volition and free will—or more specifically to take responsibility for our choices rather than laying the blame on causes or conditions.

Tomorrow morning there is street cleaning on the East side of my street, which is where the Moto Guzzi was parked until about a half hour ago. I went out to move the bike and, noting the chill in the air, thought that it would be nice to have a fire in my fireplace tonight. I've run out of Duraflames, but since I had to move the bike anyhow, I thought I may as well go down to Safeway and pick up a log before retiring for the evening.

Actually, you'd have to go back in time to find the intersection of Kentucky Street and Army Street in San Francisco. Army Street was renamed Cesar Chavez Street in 1995 and Kentucky Street was annexed to Third Street sometime probably around 1920. But the intersection itself is in the same spot, at Third and Cesar Chavez, and that's where my studio is.

As October is the month of Open Studios here in San Francisco, once again I'm opening my studio to the public over the course of the weekend. I'll be at the Third Street Art Explosion at 1661 Tennessee Street (that one is still named after a state. Don't ask me why they changed Kentucky Street's name) starting at 11am and ending at 6pm.

Making my way through the neighborhood streets between home and my studio today I passed a woman starting her motorcycle. She lives in the neighborhood and I've seen her and her bike a few times. She's a heavyset woman and she rides what might best be described as a European café racer. Her shape and the shape of her bike are comically incongruent, something I've noticed the other times I've encountered her. This morning was no exception. I saw her starting her bike and immediately felt my judgment start to come up.

There's no good reason for me to have any judgment at all about her. I've never spoken with her and I don't know anything about her. The judgment was simply a juvenile moment of internal mockery—a moment in my mind of which I'm not proud.

I don't know why it means so much to me that the guy who broke into my laundry room apologized as he was being taken to the police car by the SFPD, but that moment keeps replaying itself in my mind. I don't know if he meant it, but he said it like he meant it. If he was trying to con me, it was a subtle play. He didn't say, «I'm sorry. Please don't press charges.» It was a complete sentence, a declaration: «I'm sorry.» Even if he was pushing my buttons, he played it like he wasn't.

One of the officers said that meth users only know how to do two things: lie and steal. I've seen a bit of that myself, but usually methheads are playing the short con, not a long one. Whether he meant it or not, his words signified an admission that he was in the wrong, and that's what people are supposed to do when they are wrong.

It started with the rattle of a chainlink fence as I was getting ready to take a shower. My neighbors keep a very nice yard, but I've never seen them out doing yardwork in the rain. The sound was followed by the thud of the door downstairs slamming shut. I knew it was the laundry room door—I'd have heard my front door more clearly.

I looked out the kitchen window and saw no one in the yard, so I went to the living room window and looked out. I didn't see anything or anyone in the yard. I checked the doors of my neighbors in the main house: both were closed. Usually if someone does laundry they leave the door open.

Then I saw my next door neighbor waving at me from his window. He waved and pointed below me. I looked at him and he pointed down again, more emphatically. I made the thumb-and-pinkie sign for telephone and mouthed the word «police».

Thursday night at Art Explosion on Seventeenth Street in San Francisco Spring Open Studios 2009 kicked off with an «after-work preview» show to provide a peek at the new work that was on display all weekend, beginning with Friday night's opening at 7pm. I haven't the time or inclination to provide a complete survey of the variety of the work at Open Studios this year, but I took some snapshots of a small sample of this year's notable work.

Mark your calendars and get ready to come on down to Open Studios at the Art Explosion. The essential details follow:

Preview Thursday April 23rd 5pm–8pm
Opening Reception Friday April 24th 7–11pm
Open Studios Sat & Sun April 25th & 26th 12–5pm

Between the three Art Explosion locations there are over 100 artists opening their doors so that you can come and see how we work, see new artwork that hasn't yet gone to galleries, and even works in progress. The artists will be available to answer questions, sell their work, and just chat.