With h brown
Court Jester reviews April Fools Sunrise Symphony
April 1, 2007
"I got a job!! Kenny Cleaveland got it
for me. Managing small building. Over 100 K a year in benefits."
Kenny Cleveland (left)
"Pelosi is meeting with Code Pink! She's
invited them to tea. Krissy Keefer is co-hosting."
"Love on the 1st and the 15th!"
(Jens surveys elevator of hookers)
OK, I didn't get a job and Pelosi's not going to ask Krissy
Keefer which left-wing art programs she should fund. But, there
really was an elevator load of hookers and Jens hit that one right
on the head.
Yep. That's when the welfare checks arrive in the Tenderloin.
Spirits are high. So are we. 80-year old retired musicians bring
young multi-hued lovelies up, and the sweet scents of pot and
cheap perfume waft through the halls and windows. Beats Bagdhad.
"Can you hear, can you hear the thunder? You better run.
You better take cover. I come from the land of plenty. Where women
And men plunder."
A glowing Barbie crack whore
(Kfog Acoustical Sunrise)
Yeah, the music is working in with the mood today. I was thinking
about sounds as Jens and I changed cd's and went from the the
'trane/miles' sound Matt gave me along with the old boom box,
back to Kfog which still, mostly, rules.
Boom box gifter Matty G.
At many of the SRO's, you can't have guests into your room on
either the 1st or 15th. They always assume that because that's
when you'll have money that all of your guests will be either
dealers, hookers or fellow drug addicts and drunks.
Of course they're right, but it still doesn't seem fair. I mean,
look at the people the mayor has into his crib any day of the
month he wants. But, I got this riff on sound that I wanted to
It is amazing, the kinds of sounds a person can get used to
and even be soothed by once you're conditioned to it. I've spent
some time at a friend's place out in the country over the past
couple of years and as the April Fool's Day warm sun poured through
my window, I mused as to the different sounds that come through
Just before sunrise. It's 4 a.m.
Diablo at sunrise
There is the exotic sound of crickets and the croak of an occasional
frog from the river below combines with the rush of the water
through the same boulders the ancient stream has caressed for
eons as the full moon plays its steady hypnotic rays onto the
big open front porch where I lay upon the wicker chaise lounge
and pull on an extra quilt against the morning chill.
7th and Market
Actually, the sirens on the fire trucks are the loudest. They're
more deep-throated and make the windows rattle. The ambulances
have the brassy cacophony of a brass band of clowns and the attendants
move lots faster than the cops and firefighters. The cop cars
do all of that 'burp-burp-burp' thing with their sirens but they
have the best light show.
Then, of course, everyone is screaming obscenities. It's like
being married again.
When a man needs a woman: h brown and his 6th wife, Dorris,
take the Ozark
But, of course, you can barely hear anything because the trash
guys from 4 different companies have started their staggered collections.
The creak of powerful hydraulics screeches past anything the
emergency services, drunks, whores, pimps and thieves have to
muster and they all have to yell even louder to complete their
usual pre-dawn chores.
Like a herd of dinosaurs feeding upon rubbish, the symphony
swells. Giant 'T' Rex sized mobile compacting machines reach out
with their short front arms to grab one ton steel dumpsters which
they raise high into the air and then bounce with loud clangs
upon the hollow of the truck's gaping throat as the beast swallows
the garbage from a hard day of Tenderloin living.
Smaller trucks with crews of agile acrobatic drones work their
way down the gutter in leaps and pauses providing the drum rolls
of the percussion section of this SF symphony with their hollow
plastic wheels. The cops and drunks and paramedics and firement
continue to shout as their lights flash on.
The pronounced fife-like brush of the purposefully beetle crawl
of the growling street sweepers follow the rumble of plastic wheels
to join the average scene under my window at 4 to 5am. 24/7
The concert/parade/concert caboose is the cleansing loud 'SHEESH'
of the street power washing truck that straddles the center of
the boulevard and fires powerful wide streams of Hetch-Hetchy
water to flush the evening's urine and filth.
It is morning in the Tenderloin and I'm listening to your tax
dollars at work. I click my wristwatch and realize I still have
an hour before the morning papers arrive. I turn on the computer
to see what crazy things my friends have done since I last lost
consciousness, pull on raggedy jeans and a hooded sweatshirt and
head across the street to Carl's Jr. for a cup of coffee with
Happy April Fool's day.
Danny Glover for Mayor.
h. brown is a 62 year-old keeper of sfbulldog.com,
an eclectic site featuring a half dozen City Hall denizens. h
is a former sailor, firefighter, teacher, nightclub owner, and
a hard-living satirical muckraker. Email
h at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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