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A portrait of Al, a cobbler…and a dude who slings old sewing machines.

A Portrait of Al from Al's Attire San FranciscoI’ve got an obsession with Everything Old. And All Things Made By Hand. And an appreciation for others who have my weird hang-up. Whether it’s amateur snap shots, or obsolete machinery, or a cobbler’s tiny workspace, I’m all about it.

So I was wandering around San Francisco on a recent venture and stumbled into Al’s Attire. It’s kitty-corner from Cafe Trieste, one of my SF go-to’s. Which is right down the street from City Lights and The Condor (which is where Carol Doda worked), and a biker bar (its name I can never remember).

(If you’ve got a minute, follow the Carol Doda link and check out every single one of the 51-pic set the SF Gate published for her obit.)

Al’s is amazing. Al is amazing! I try to carry my camera around all the time, and Al was nice enough to let me make a picture or two. His shoemaker (another name I can’t remember grrr.) let me make one, too. Pick some cloth off the sample, get measured, and let Al go to work. Same with the shoes; pick soles, material, style, and don’t forget the custom “Al’s Attire Custom” label with your name.

I need a wardrobe re-do.

The Alameda flea market is another go-to. It’s one of the greats. It’s a first-Sunday flea, and I’ve never been disappointed. I made a portrait of Dave there. He cleans up old sewing machines, gets them working again, then sets up shop at Alameda. His booth was right next to a Snap Shot Guy who had a picture of a woman reading Tarot in a field in 1917. Under the picture someone wrote “Gypsy telling the future” with impeccable penmanship, beautiful cursive.

Score.

 

 

 

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Managing the e-commerce bookstore.

Tom of Finland in Physique Pictorial Volume 16, Number 3Over the past few days, I’ve been duplicating all the book listings I have over at the synaesthesia press eBay store to my new, fancy-schmancy online presence here. Have you had a chance to note the price difference between my eBay store and here?

I don’t have a lot of books online, but hey — it’s an adventure that’s sure to expand. From the rate it’s taking me to post — coupled with how many books I’ve managed to accumulate since I dunno when — I’ll probably be doing this until sometime in 2065. That’ll make me 102-ish, depending what month I wrap it all up.

After I wrap, I’m gonna celebrate by getting my ass tattooed. As a hunky sailor or three watch.

 

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Happy Birthday Jerry Salinger!

JD Salinger

JD Salinger just turned 90. That makes him twice as old and me; or, better yet, I’m 1/2 way to being an old, old man.

Better yet?

Anyway, I don’t know why, but (probably) just like you, The Catcher in the Rye really spoke to me, in the same way all great art does: Duchamp and Warhol, Coltrane and Miles, Lennon & McCartney, Kerouac and the Beats, Bukowski and rogue poets who starve themselves in order to keep writing poems.

I actually like 9 Stories better than Catcher. Well, wait a sec. Lemme think about that.

Depending on my mood, I like 9 Stories more than Catcher in the Rye. Like I said, just depends on my mood.

And really I love the whole idea of Salinger — for lack of a better term. Or a way to put it.

Salinger writes dismissible fiction for Post WWII pop rags, then gets a story or two into “The New Yorker”, and then he drops his masterpiece on us all. It was about that time some high school kids used to saunter up to his compound in Cornish, New Hampshire, just to hang out and listen to jazz records. And one of them asked “Jerry” for an interview in her school newspaper. Salinger agreed, which scored the girl one of the great literary interviews of all time.

Great, of course, in the sense that it was the first — and last — Salinger ever gave.

The girl’s journalism teacher knew it was something, cause it didn’t wind up in the school’s newspaper, but in the city’s paper, and that was the last time those kids were ever allowed into his house again.

And that’s the last time anyone ever heard from JD Salinger…to this day.

Which was 50 years ago — give or take.

For a while photographers and fans would make the trip to Cornish just to catch a glimpse. Or maybe even get a picture. There’s a Life magazine article from about the time Franny & Zooey was published of Salinger clamoring down a hill holding two pails of what I assumed was water from a well.

But maybe not.

I once heard a picture was floating around of him waving off a photographer on the way to his favorite (and probably only) doughnut shop in Cornish…but I never saw it.

The pic I found here came from this article at the New York Times on his birthday…which promoted me to blog Salinger. I’m willing to bet this photo came from the same session as the one that graces the back cover (but only in the first few printings) of The Catcher

And I’ll admit Salinger’s reclusive behavior — as well as his lack of publications — is what makes me want more. It makes us all want more. Cause, let’s face it…if Salinger wrote a whole bunch of crummy novels and, late in his life, wound up selling Beanie Babies on QVC to make a few bucks, well…you know.

Just like if Jim Morrison woulda made it through that Paris night and found Jesus…a few years after making a couple bad solo records.

I wrote to Salinger once. It was right before I made Enemies and Friends. I actually wrote to two of my favorite writers (at that time) and asked them if I could publish a chapbook of their work. In addition to the letter, I sent Salinger a copy of the Harold Norse chapbook, Sniffing Keyholes, as well as Gifford’s The Strangest One of All. Of course I didn’t hear back from Salinger.

I did hear back from Tim O’Brien.

But I digress. In fact, I dunno what my point is here at all. I guess just to wish Salinger a happy birthday, even though I imagine him huddled around a fire, wrapped in a heavy quilt, and contemplating his life…and certainly not sitting in front of a computer, checking his e-mail, and Google’ing himself just to see if anyone cares anymore.