I am up for a couple of shows this weekend. One is in Berkeley while the other is in Oakland. The Temescal Festival on Telegraph Avenue on the Oakland/Berkeley border is an event I played a few years ago. I’m born in Oakland. People at this show get that. It is like cool, the fire juggler is from the East Bay. We’re easy to pick out of a crowd if you know what your looking for. We linger around customized motorcycles. We comb our hair back. We talk in a certain slang style peculiar to people who’ve come up on this side of the bay. We’re lunch bucket types. We drink beer. Feel at home in Hayward. People from the East Bay vacation in Twain Harte, gamble up in Tahoe and for real pleasure and adventure go at the shore in Alameda. Emeryville is a newcomer. Piedmont remains a mystery to us. We all knew someone who had a hot tube up in Montclair or saw James Brown at the Oakland Auditorium back in the day. If you are a true vet of the East Bay you even know that Sly Stone used to play at joint called Frenchy’s out on Mission Blvd in Hayward long before anyone knew who he was. Jason Zazo who does great automobile upholstery rolls a fine Chevy short box big block he’s had since forever… This is a glimpse of the unchangeable changes, a kind of slice of the life, the time machine you don’t have to buy. All you need to do is head to San Lorenzo. My people are there exactly the way I remember them.
Bankrupt Heart The Second Novel
Ry pushed against the varnished oak tiller. Jasmine’s
bow bent off to the side of the onrushing winds. The mainsail stiffened, she
began to move out at a smart clip. This was a sizable triangular sail rising 43
feet in height up the mast, eighteen feet in length along the boom, capturing a
bellowing breeze the sail created a tremendous force that thrust the hull ahead.
Ry steered a southbound course out into the deeper bay waters playing with the
angle of the mainsail until Jasmine’s most
rapturous stride was dispatched.