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With h brown

Photo(s) by Luke Thomas


Court Jester reviews April Fools Sunrise Symphony


By h. brown


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."
(Jimmy Dorenkott)

Krissy Keefer

"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 glow … 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 lay down.

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 windows.

Just before sunrise. It's 4 a.m.

El Diablo at sunrise

Dos Rios

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 limo
into town.

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 3 creams.

Happy April Fool's day.

Danny Glover for Mayor.

Free Josh.

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 h@ludd.net.


Editor's Note: Views expressed by columnists published on FogCityJournal.com are not necessarily the views or beliefs of Fog City Journal. Fog City Journal supports free speech in all its varied forms and provides a forum for a complete spectrum of viewpoints.



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