Disco Nights At “Dance Your Ass off Incorporated, San Francisco”


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It wasn’t about smoking, buying a drink, I just wanted to dance.

My roommate Jennifer introduced me to Disco.  She had this wild fascination with drag queen’s, especially black drag Queens.   At one forty five am, we would walk down street to the Foster’s Restaurant at Polk and Sutter. Foster’s was opened 24 hours and was a popular place to gather after the bars closed at 2am.   In the 70’s, Polk Street was the heart of the San Francisco’s  gay community and there were more than a dozen bars between Post and Sacramento Street’s

We were both under age back then.  Jennifer would sometimes get into the bars but I wouldn’t. Watching the nightly show at Foster’ s was one thing ,but entering a gay bar, wasn’t happening,

One of the first disco’s I ever went to was , “Dance your ass off Incorporated” on Columbus near the Wharf.  For this kid it was magical . Flashing lights ,disco balls and the deafening beat of the music.

Dancing was my life, from Fresno, to New York City.

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It was a place you could be anything and do anything.  At a Disco, the dress code was what ever you feel and Polyester was king.   The bathrooms were genderless at some of the clubs in the city.

 Dying to get into Studio 54

My roomy Jen, fell in love with a guy who was into Scientology and moved to New York. They lived in a small roach filled apartment uptown off Broadway.   We were determined to get into studio 54.  Image result for studio 54 new york pictures from 1970s

The staff at the door were mean and nasty unless your a celebrity.  You were judged and they determined if you got in.  It was fun, to watch people get out of their limo’s like celebrities and slip the door man a fifty only to be directed towards the end of the line.

For a three days, Jen, her Boo Larry and me waited in line.    Jen was hugged up with Larry and one day, a man pointed at Jen and I . I told the man THEY are a couple and before I knew it,  Jen scooped up my arm and kissed Larry goodbye.

Invested

All over america, seedy dives were adding mirror balls and parkay floors, becoming Disco’s overnight .  There were dance floors all over the City, from The Mission to the Richmond along Clement Street.   There was the Shanghai Gardens in Chinatown on Grant.  The I Beam in the Haight Image result for i beam san francisco  Busby’s on Polk, had a Stainless steel ceiling and dance floor where they put saw dust on the floor to keep the dancers in place.   The hotels were adding Disco’s . There was a disco in the Penthouse of the St Francis Hotel.  I met my wife on a dance floor in the San Francisco Hilton.

The larger clubs sold tee shirts, advertising there businesses.  But I wanted more. I lost a few pounds was able to buy some jeans at the Jeans Factory on Market, invested in square bottom polyester shirts.

Things changed after visiting Osko’s Dance Club in Los Angeles

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Osko’s is the massive Disco where “Thank God it’s Friday with Donna Summer was filmed.  There were people in jumpsuits and individuals wearing vest with custom lettering representing other clubs throughout the country.

Back in San Fran, my Favorite Disco was “The City ” in North Beach.   I bought a black Vest.  I added custom lettering on the back representing my club on the top line and on the second line was my name “Dr. Disco M.D” which stood for Mad Dancer.

I designed a sleeveless black bell bottom jumpsuit with a zipper down the front made of the finest bullet-proof polyester money could buy.  I found a Taylor on Polk Street who shared my vision. He insisted on a non destructible zipper.   On its first outing, I realized there was a major omission, pockets.   I designed zippered pockets in the leg of the jumpsuit for my wallet coins and keys. I put toilet paper in the pockets to silence the noise.

By the early eighties Disco faded.  Many people danced where they used to dance before disco, in the Black, Latin and gay clubs.  I was married with children, so dancing meant company  parties, where my wife and I were the first to get on the dance floor and the last to leave.

  “Dance your ass off ‘ is a comedy club.  Due to its unique name a lot of my friends remember the club.  I recently met with friend from a friend in college who I hadn’t seen in 35 years who remembered the club.

I remembered an wonderful environment filled with joy.  In City, there were whites in black clubs, latin in white clubs and everyone else in massive gay clubs like the Trocadero on sixth.. It didn’t matter if you had three left feet. It was about the ever present thumping of the bass..

A little bit of that would feel good in these times. 

I still have the jumpsuit, which proves polyester is the miracle fabric and getting into the jumpsuit today WOULD be a miracle.  I wonder if the Smithsonian (once they re-open) would be interested?

CityFella

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First drive: 2019 Mustang Bullitt chases legends in San Francisco


 

 

By: Mark Phelan\Detroit Free Press

(Video By Roadshow)

SAN FRANCISCO — The greatest chase scene in movie history would’ve ended a lot sooner if Steve McQueen could’ve got his hands on a 2019 Ford Mustang Bullitt. The Dodge Charger that eluded McQueen’s 1968 Mustang fastback for 12 minutes of brilliant filmmaking never would have stood a chance.

Just in time for the 50th anniversary of the movie “Bullitt,” the car is everything a Mustang fan or movie lover could ask for: Fast, smooth, responsive and steeped in the same effortless cool McQueen brought to the movie and the chase scene he helped choreograph and drive.

The Dark Highland Green 2019 Bullitt I drove through the streets of San Francisco, surrounding hills and coastline didn’t scream for attention, but still drew admiring looks and questions. The 480-hp V8’s rumbling back-pressure burps turned heads, but don’t worry, electronic exhaust controls provide a stealth mode so you won’t wake the neighbors or alert the hit men you stake out.

That exhaust note, incidentally, was tuned from recordings of the same ’68 GT McQueen drove in the movie. Ford engineers listened to 1968 soundtrack masters the filmmakers recorded of the car racing around Willow Springs race track in California.

Filming the legendary chase scene

It took 10 days shooting, 12 hours a day to nail the chase scene, a whopping one-sixth of “Bullitt’s” total shooting schedule, University of Southern California film school prof Danny Bilson said.

McQueen was an avid car fan, and director Peter Yates began his career as a race car driver and team manager.

“I don’t want a crash-fest. I want a realistic pursuit,” Yates said at the time.

McQueen later said he saw the film as a modern Western, in which his character strapped on the Mustang like a gun belt. He drove the car during parts of the chase. You can recognize most of those scenes because you can see McQueen’s famous blue eyes in the rearview mirror. The mirror was removed for scenes with stunt drivers.

A famous shot in which McQueen misses a turn and leans out to look back as he reverses furiously to continue chasing the hit men’s Charger was a mistake. McQueen really did miss the corner and kept going to avoid ruining the painstakingly arranged shoot. That’s the only moment in the whole chase where the final edit of the movie made it appear faster than what happened, Bilson said.

Other facts about the chase scene:

  • In addition to McQueen’s Mustang and the villains’ Dodge Charger, there are eight other cars driven by stunt drivers.
  • The Charger loses eight hubcaps during the chase.
  • The portions within the city were shot in a 20- to 30-block section of the Pacific Heights neighborhood.
  • The crew shot in brief segments as SFPD closed a couple of blocks at a time.
  • The cars pass the same green VW Bug four times during the scene.
  • The long shot that shows both cars going airborne as they come down a steep hill required eight cameras.
  • No ramps were used for the jumps, just San Francisco’s natural geography.
  • About 50 crew members with walkie-talkies kept an eye out for oncoming traffic.
  • Modifications to the cars were minor, mostly stiffer shocks, springs and Firestone tires.
  • The script included a chase across the Golden Gate Bridge. Yates increased the amount of time on the hills when he couldn’t get permission for that.

Details define the car:

  • Unique metallic-flake dark green paint, a color not available on any other Ford. The Bullitt’s alternate color, black, is from Ford’s regular palette.
  • Specifications for the cue-ball shift knob were so demanding that several suppliers turned down the job
  • The cue ball is permanently attached to the shifter and doesn’t screw off, to discourage petty thieves.
  • The shifter has a sintered copper core for weight and feel. The plastic shell is molded around the core and gets a laser-etched shift pattern.
  • A Bullitt Mustang appears briefly in the instrument cluster when the engine starts, replacing other Mustangs’ pony logo.
  • A serial number on the dash.
  • Freer breathing, including an intake manifold from the exotic Shelby GT 350 Mustang boosts power 20 hp to 480.
  • Six-speed manual transmission with rev-matching.
  • Chrome accent edges on 19-inch gloss black wheels.
  • Honeycomb gloss-black grille.
  • Gunsight-style logo and stylized Bullitt badge evolved from 2008, the last time Ford built a Bullitt.
  • The rear valence, below the rear bumper, has a flat-black ceramic finish. “I’ve never gone to so much trouble to hide a beautiful piece of stainless steel,” Mustang chief engineer Carl Wildmann said.
  • Top speed is 163 mph. The Bullitt’s unique speedometer goes to 180 mph.
  • The leather seats were designed to look like retro 1968 seats, but have modern comfort and features such as power adjustment, heating and ventilation.

Ford plans a limited run for the 2019 and 2020 model years. Output is restricted by how many of the Bullitt’s unique parts suppliers can make.

I drove a green Bullitt with the MagneRide adjustable damping, navigation, B&O audio, blind spot alert and more. It stickered at $50,390, excluding destination charges.

The tuned exhaust note delivers satisfying rumbles when you ease off the gas and roars when wide open. Acceleration is immediate, and the upgraded six-speed manual’s rev-matching makes it easy to shift and keep running hard.

The suspension is comfortable over bumps and keeps the car securely planted in quick maneuvers, while six-piston red-painted Brembo brakes provide plenty of stopping power. The steering is light and precise, with a good on-center feel.

I drove it hard and fast on country and coastal roads outside San Francisco, but took it easy on the city’s famously narrow and crowded streets.

The new Bullitt is more than a match for the movie’s 1968 fastback, but only a fool would try to fill Steve McQueen’s driver’s seat.

Contact Mark Phelan: mmphelan@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @mark_phelan

2019 Ford Mustang Bullitt at a glance

Vehicle type:
Rear-wheel-drive fastback.

Base price: $46,595

Engine tested: 5.0L V8

Power: 480 hp; 420 pound-feet or torque

Transmission: 6-speed manual with rev-matching

Assembly site: Flat Rock, Michigan

 

Just another Refugee from San Francisco


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I saw a familiar head in line at the BelAir Market on West El Camino.  We used to call him Peanut head back in the day.   I hadn’t seen Peanut head in more than ten years.  We lost contact after my family moved to Sacramento in the nineties.   There he was, in living color, in South Natomas.   I like a lot of my friends in the Bay, he gave many excuses why he couldn’t visit Sacramento. The number one excuse, was the heat. The number two was, it wasn’t the city and there wasn’t anything to do here.  I parked my cart and intercepted him before he left the store.

It seems Peanut head moved to Sacramento four years ago.  Family members from Hayward and Fremont soon followed.  His younger brother and his partner will arrive this spring.

Peanut head lost his job nearly 30 years and owned a home in the Haight.  After an extended visit in Sacramento he sold his home and paid cash for a home near his friend (a refugee from Los Angeles) in South Natomas.   Today, he owns several properties in Sacramento and has his sights on Oak Park.   He LOVES Sacramento, for more than a half an hour he talked about how much he loved it here.   We discovered we enjoy the same restaurants in midtown., he his a major soccer fan and often attends sporting events in the area.

In the last few years, nearly a dozen friends had quietly moves to Sacramento.   If your a Millennial its possible to own a home here.  If your a baby boomer with children or grandchildren in the state.  You can sell you home in Los Angeles and San Francisco and with the savings have an easier retirement.

Sometimes its difficult to find someone who was born and raised here to have a good word about their city.  Like the central character in Ladybird, they only dreams to leave the city.

I think the refugees are wining ,as Sacramento is the fastest growing big city in the state. While the local say there isn’t much here, the refugees are amazed by what is here.  The initial attraction here is the lower cost of living.  Sactown cost are  higher than most southern cities. Its much lower than the coastal areas of California and Washington.

Refugees have nothing put praise about the city and they are coming in by the car load.

Wikipedia Says, Sacramento has one of the highest LGBT populations per capita, ranking seventh among major American cities, and third in California behind San Francisco and slightly behind Oakland, with roughly 10% of the city’s total population identifying themselves as gay, lesbian, or bisexual and Sac is as the most “hipster city” in California.

After twenty years in Sactown, I wish it were a bit more urban. A bit more vertical. However what keeps me planted is the diversity, the people. I travel often and one thing I haven’t heard in Sacramento, “people who look like me isn’t welcome in this part of town”.  Something you hear in many cities.. So far, not in Sacramento.

The new refugees don’t share my complaints.  Go to a restaurant along 16th Street in one of the new buildings  or walk along “R”St corridor and you’ll hear (well, with one very vocal exception from Los Angeles who cant wait to leave this pile of …) I like Sac.

CityFella

 

 

 

October 17,1989 5:04 pm San Francisco, Cailfornia


On October 17th 1989 .I was working at a Rental Car Company in downtown San Francisco.  A older couple from New Jersey was returning a Chevy Corsica they rented at the airport,after they learned the 46 story San Francisco Hilton wanted $50 a day to park their car.

As they approached the counter the building shook. I asked them to hold on to the counter.

Across the street from the office is a six story residential building and next door to that building is an 15 story residential building. For a second you could see light between the two buildings as they separated and then slammed together.  Showering the street with glass.   The power went out,  I remember saying, this is the BIG one, which wasn’t comforting to the tourist in the office.

In a small voice the woman said, how do we get to our room?, were on the 34th floor.

After the couple left, I walked the building, colleagues turned on the radios in the cars to hear the news. I couldn’t find any significant damage the building.  In the basement, a small support that ran underneath the sidewalk had separated

The challenge was closing the office.  There were two large electric doors and no one knew how to manually close them.  Everyone quietly decided to stay the night to protect the cars in the building. Ramps were blocked and on every floor, on the radio we all listen to KGO.

The stories were unbelievable.  There were reports of the Bay Bridge collapsing. Which we immediately dismissed. After all we were downtown and  there were no fires, no collapsed buildings.  For us it was a gross exaggeration .

Then there report of a massive fire in the Marina district.   My family lived in Cow Hollow District and the Marina was four blocks away.

If you live in California, you live with the possibility of the big one.

The news on the radio was coming in a massive clip.  Reports of freeways collapsing, and holes in the roadways.   Reports of a massive out of control fire in the Marina made me anxious.   The phones were down,  My wife, son and two month old daughter were home alone. But I’m the boss, I need to stay with the building, but my family ………

One the drivers told me to go home and check on my family.

I have said this several times.  San Franciscans can be aloof (New Yorkers are nicer) but people came together worked together in this crises.  You hear about this all the time, people helping people.  Here in my town ,there were homeless people using cardboard as brooms sweeping glass from the sidewalk   Regular people directing traffic, and people being super kind and patient in SAN FRANCISCO!

Driving home wasn’t difficult at all.  There seem to be people all over directing traffic.  All was well until I hit the wall.   Van Ness Avenue.  At the intersection of Van Ness and Filbert no one was directing traffic.  Cars were crawling.  I could see my apartment building on the other side of Van Ness ,but I had no way of getting there.

Van Ness (101) is the route most people use to cross the Golden Gate Bridge.   30 minutes went by, no one was giving an inch and as I sat, my mind went into overtime. What if the building collapsed on my family?   What if there was a gas leak?  I wanted to turn the radio off, but I couldn’t.  A man and a women walked into the traffic and forced drivers to allow me through the intersection.   I don’t remember thanking them.

As I drove up unto the sidewalk and there they were.  My son and my wife was holding my daughter . I was overwhelmed with emotion. I just needed to see them, needed to make sure they were okay.

I was back at the office in 20 minutes.   As I approached the office, one of the doors was down.  An employee who lived near the office knew how to manually  close the doors.  I traded my Cavalier for a Chrysler Minivan.  I drove southwest to get home which was north west of downtown.

Before stopping home, I parked the van and walked over to Van Ness.   Nothing was moving, I will never forget seeing men and women crying.  Trying their cell phones hundreds possibly thousands of people helpless.    It was true, a section of the Bay Bridge had collapsed. My wife and I talked about moving to Richmond across the bay.  That could have been us, trying to pick up our children in the east bay.

 With cell towers down ,we wouldn’t be able call anyone, hoping that they would protect our children. But what bout their children? their families?   Thousands unable to communicate with their Day Care providers.   That was NOT going to happen to us.  (A few years later we moved to Sacramento)       I picked up my family and went looking for friends who lived alone.

Now before you think,I’m  really nice man.  My purpose was selfish, completely self serving.  I didn’t  want to be called to identify a body and figured it best that we all died together.   I fully packed the minivan, and drove to Daly City for flashlights and supplies.

The Walgreen’s at the Westlake shopping center was a Zoo.  There were many available flashlights but no D cell batteries.  There were mini skirmishes in the store over C cell flashlights.   I lucked out and located four C cell flashlights.  We stopped at a fast food restaurant and returned to Cow Hollow .

On the way home my son peed on the seat of the minivan.

The next morning , I drove to the office and there were several people attempting to return their cars.  People were afraid to drive on the area roadways.  Most of the people wanted transportation to the airport  and nine people wedged themselves in the seven passenger minivan.   On the road ,I noticed one man in my rearview mirror.  Every few seconds he would rise up in the rear seat.

Ooooh, he’s sitting in my sons piss.

CityFella

Three Quick Old Skol Takeaways from the Earthquake

  1. Cell Towers fall, or are blown away.  Phone lines are underground.  While we didn’t have power for two weeks our landline worked the next morning.  I have a corded phone today.
  2. Most flashlights are powered by D Cell battery.  Avoid purchasing any light or radio that requires Dcell battery.

3. When cell towers are down and power out your plastic is usless.  Keep a some old fashion cash at home.

Your own Island or 3 bedroom San Francisco Condo?


Island or Condo?

The Island

Located off the coast of Menorca Spain . The 143 acre island has been up for sale by the family that has owned it for more than a century.  The island  boasts two sandy beaches, rugged cliffs and woodland.

It also has a 18th century house ripe for renovation and a wooden cabin nestled in the pine forest. But that isn’t all. The island, which is part of s’Albufera des Grau’s Natural Park, has a boathouse and a jetty.

According to estate agents the family is selling the island for 5.9 million the island also has a disused mine and the footprint of a house once used by miners that could be rebuilt on the same site.

In the 1700s the island was used as to quarantine a group of 268 soldiers who had been enslaved in Algeria before being returned to Spain after a treaty was struck. As they came from an area infested with the plague the soldiers were required to live on the island until their health was guaranteed.

Three died and a memorial was erected in their honor, and is still standing today.

The island was purchased by Antonio Roca y Varez in 1904 for just 7,850 pesetas (about $53.US in today’s money) and has been used as a holiday retreat by the same family ever since.

Potential purchasers however should be aware that the island attracts day trippers who come make the short crossing in boats and canoes during the summer months.

The island is also home to a huge colony of seagulls and is home to a species of lizard that is unique to the island.

The San Francisco Condo

The private residences at the Four Seasons in San Francisco offer buyers the best in downtown San Francisco condo living with the amenities of a luxury hotel. Residents enjoy the hotel’s Olympic-sized indoor pool, world-class fitness center and spa, 24-hour

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security and doorman. Homeowners also have access to round-the-clock room service through the hotel.

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Four Season condos feature hardwood floors, high quality finish out, expansive views and a superior location within the city center. Walk to Yerba Buena Gardens, Union Station and a wide variety of businesses, shops and eateries.

There are still a few condos available .  A three bedroom 3.5 baths  with nearly 2600 square is selling for $5.9 million

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New York killed my dating life — and I couldn’t be happier now


New York killed my dating life — and I couldn’t be happier now

Cynthia Nixon, Sarah Jessica Parker, Kim Cattrall and Kristin Davis in “Sex and the City 2” (Credit: New Line CInema)

“If you think the San Francisco dating scene is bad, wait till you get to New York,” people warned me

By: Emily J. Smith/Salon.com

“Don’t give up, ” my friend urged me, my shoulder in her hand, a vodka martini in mine. “You’ll find something that feels right eventually.”

I realized that it had somehow, unbelievably, been a decade since I was in love. I’d had relationships — some serious, one as short as a day, and more two- to three-month experiments than I could count — but for the most part, for the bulk of my adult life, I had been single. Those 10 years crept up quickly. I love being alone. I can, often to my own detriment, fill hours, days, sometimes weeks, with actives of complete solitude without a speck of loneliness.

There was no rush in my twenties. Intent on my career, being single felt more like a badge than a blemish. I watched friends from high school, then couples from college, pair up and settle down. Not me. I wanted independence, self-discovery, the autonomy to make my own choices. I moved to an apartment in the East Village and jumped head-first into a fancy consulting job, followed by a cross-country move to California for business school. I met other women with ambitious goals and strong ideals and we clung to one another, our new friendships built on shared challenges and tools we were just learning to articulate. We reminded each other not to over-apologize, shared tips on power stances that felt so goofy but worked so well, urged one another to speak up and ask for what we wanted; tools the other 75 percent of the student body, for the most part, didn’t need to think about.

In the spring of 2012 I turned 30. With grad school behind us, my friends and I settled into good positions at good jobs, found livable-sized apartments in San Francisco, built lives we were proud of. And then, as if someone had given a signal that I clearly didn’t catch, my friends started getting married. Women I never thought of as codependent, couples I never imagined needing the safety of marriage; because they weren’t, they didn’t. They were just in love, and it was time.

Like all good business school graduates, my friends and I did the math — if you wanted to date someone for a few years before marriage, and then live together for a few years before kids, and then maybe even have another kid, and do it all before 40 — well, yeah, it was time. So while some started sporting rings, my still-single friends and I doubled down on dating. And although I had never in my life imagined a wedding dress, and still didn’t really get the point of an engagement ring, I found myself in a wedding wind tunnel; everyone around me either getting married or trying to.

In San Francisco that meant downloading every possible dating app. Many of us were averaging at least three dates a week and meeting regularly to discuss our progress. Spreadsheets may or may not have been involved. Google doc shares abounded. We listened to each other’s stories with care, assuring one another that of course he must be a literal psychopath if he never called back after such an intimate night, or that he wasn’t worth a goddamn second if he couldn’t even schedule a date 24 hours in advance. For years, we were each other’s support — emotionally and physically. We chaperoned wisdom teeth removals, held surprise birthday parties, gave each other pep talks before big meetings, cooked dinner together on Sunday nights. Being single in a world of couples made us not only appreciate, but prioritize one another. We were family.

But eventually, I had to move closer to my real family. My parents were getting older, and California, no matter how great my friends were, would never be home. And, although I was scared to admit it, at 34, I needed a change.

“If you think the San Francisco dating scene is bad, wait till you get to New York,” people warned me. I would widen my eyes to try and look scared, but the truth was, I couldn’t wait. If I knew one thing about my move back to New York, it was that I did not want to date.

Dating had sucked the life out of me. I was sick of telling my story, a story that not long ago felt unique and personal, but now felt empty and scripted. I was sick of throwing out commentary on hot topics like Instagram (what I consider the essence of our culture’s narcissism) and board games (painful distractions from any attempt at real connection) — comments that used to feel contrarian and clever but now, almost five years later, seemed manufactured, an assembly line of remarks. I was sick of trying to prove myself through intimate life details to people who weren’t even worth the time it took to program their names in my phone. With each date I felt more like the profile I was trying to represent, and less like an actual person. I would re-read my profiles on each site often, to remind myself what my date was expecting. It felt so off — it wasn’t me — but when I tried to change it, I drew a blank. Maybe it was?

When I moved to New York I went from having a family of friends who knew every detail of my life to having a handful of acquaintances who knew nothing at all.

“It’s hard to meet people in New York,” I heard people say, “Everyone’s so busy.” Again, I feigned concern.

New York, with its large, faceless crowds and anything-goes attitude, felt like a shield from the wedding wind. I knew no one, and even though I was smack in the middle of the densest U.S. city, it felt like a vacuum. And in that vacuum, without anyone watching or any force pushing me, I stopped dating. I had no one to report to. I deleted all the apps on my phone. Instead, I started doing something I loved but never thought worth my time — I started writing. I spent almost every night alone with my laptop. At first I was afraid to admit that I was spending so much time on something that seemed, in terms of life milestones,  completely pointless. I didn’t know how to write; my career was in tech. But it was all I wanted to do, and with no one to answer to, there was no reason not to. I started going to classes and workshops and spent most of my Friday nights on the couch with an essay and a box of cereal. I woke up early, eager to sit down and put words to paper before my real job.

“Wild, I know…” I would joke to my friends back in San Francisco about my nights alone in New York. But compared to my chronic online dating, it really was.

“Doing what you want” is a loaded, indecipherable phrase for women. It’s nearly impossible to know what you actually want when expectations are piled high. I always assumed that having kids was part of adulthood— what people did when they grew up, the next step to becoming a whole, fulfilled person — and that getting married was the necessary precursor. But when I asked myself: do I actually want children? I had no idea. A caretaker, I am not. Pets frighten me and I’ve never owned a plant because I don’t understand why anyone would want to waste time watering it. But I identify as an achiever, and so the thought of not getting married and having kids — something so core to what I’ve always imagined as the female experience, something that seemed so simple for everyone else in the world — was terrifying. It felt like failure.

Letting myself escape the tunnel at a moment when I was supposed to be reaching the end, really did feel wild. Being happy on my own terms was a relief, even if happiness for me meant pulling my hair out over an essay for weeks at a time without leaving my studio. Even if happiness for me meant something entirely different than what everyone said happiness for me should mean.

I still go on the occasional date, and if I meet someone I get along with, I’m still excited by it. But I’ve allowed myself the possibility that maybe, ten years later, there’s still no rush. If I don’t meet someone who makes me happier than I make myself, then maybe that’s OK; I don’t need to go out of my way to search for something I’m not even sure I want. In many ways, that uncertainty is a gift. For women who know they want biological children, the pressure is real. Real, physical limitations accelerate the need to find a partner, and my sympathies, for that grueling task, in a society that pathologizes women who go steadily after what they want, is enormous. I am rooting like crazy for my friends who are searching on a timeline, and for every one of their priorities, so long as they’re desired, not assumed.

People’s assumptions hit me daily. I have nothing of interest to report to colleagues when they ask what’s new. When I say I spent the weekend writing — not for work, just pleasure — most people stare at me as if I told them I spent the weekend walking in circles on the sidewalk. Unable to find the right response, they want to ask “why?” but choose a polite “cool” instead.

My lack of concern concerns others. They think I have given up. But — often to my own detriment — I’ve never been one to give up. And so this concept of giving up haunts me. I think about it for days, and then months, and now years until I asked myself what it is exactly that I’m giving up. And when I look at the relationships I’ve surrounded myself with — my friends who still call me when they need someone to listen or understand or laugh, or my family who I can now see regularly, or myself who I finally, years later, feel re-acquainted with — I realize it’s not connection that I’m forfeiting, and it’s not the potential for love that I’m losing. I am giving up on the notion that finding a partner comes before all else. I’m giving up on other’s people’s expectations of what it means to be a woman and getting closer to defining that for myself. And it’s been a long time since something felt so right.

San Francisco REAL Estate Fixer with a sludge problem for $1.558 Million


The first time on the market in over 40 years, this fixer-upper at 708-710 Buchanan St. in Hayes Valley hit the market at $1.558 million in Jan. 2016. Photo: SFMLS

Story from Amy Graff/ San Francisco Chronicle 

If you live in Georgia or the southwest this charming fixer would sell for $10 grand Max.

But this is San Francisco and 1.5 million is a steal.  However you will need a minimum of a half million to make it habitable.

The first time on the market in over 40 years, this fixer-upper at 708-710 Buchanan St. in Hayes Valley hit the market at $1.558 million in Jan. 2016. Photo: SFMLS

And this one is a REAL fixer, with caving ceilings, rotting bathrooms, peeling paint and cracking plaster, this house will need to be taken down to the studs (and hopefully the person who does that will save all the beautiful Victorian woodwork).

And a mysterious sludge in the bathtub that been there for………..

A Reddit user who goes by ElroySF posted images of the major fixer-upper at 708-710 Buchanan St. after touring the house with some friends who are considering buying the place. Photo: ElroySF

Listing agent Lily Chan of Coldwell Banker admitted this property “is not for the faint of heart.”

A Reddit user who goes by ElroySF posted images of the major fixer-upper at 708-710 Buchanan St. after touring the house with some friends who are considering buying the place. Photo: ElroySF

Chan said the seller lived in the property with his mother in the 1950s and moved out after getting married. The mother eventually passed away in the 80s and the tenants left in the 90s. The building has been vacant (except for the occasional squatter) since then.

Coincidentally, Chan lived across the street from 1973 to 2002.

“I used to help the seller’s mother sweep up the broken bottles in front of her sidewalk, gutter and parking spaces on Buchanan Street, after I had done so with my side of broken bottles, garbage from candy wrappers, needles and food containers,” Chan wrote in an an email.

While touring the fixer-upper at 708-710 Buchanan St., a Reddit user who goes by ElroySF came across what he thinks is a note from squatters who inhabited the property at one time. Photo: ElroySF

The neighborhood has since changed and nearby Hayes Street is now lined with designer stores and high-end eateries and the surrounding hood is filled with beautifully restored historic homes. With some TLC from the right buyer, Chan says 708-710 Buchanan will become a grand Victorian worthy of the revitalized neighborhood.

Even with its issues 1.5 mil is a steal in San Francisco

Hurry, Hurry Get it while its Damp