This Town...

Funny thing is... it would actually work!

Is coming like a... Ghost Town! The song rings in my head over and over and over again walking barren streets rampant with the ghosts of those without homes, without hope, many without their very minds... Wandering amongst the remains: a few desperate long term residents along with a sprinkling of hesitant, bewildered tourists.

Downtown San Francisco is split into two distinct parts: the business district and the commercial/shopping district. Realistically, the former didn't have a chance of reclaiming its former pre-Covid glory; not after having so heavily invested in tech, whose workers fealty to community and reality itself lies within the rectangle of their nearest computer screen. Once acclimated to working at home long term, they abandoned the urban workaday infrastructure altogether, and all the foot traffic, restaurants and other supportive businesses dried up in turn. The shopping district fared better, it was back to about 65% of its once normal self, but then the unabated shop lifting and robberies began, continued and took its toll... now, with the epidemic of recent store closures, it's down to about 40%. 

All Photos: © Stan Banos

I remember NYC in the seventies, when it was supposedly in its death throes- I just thought it was normal, maybe it was youth. But this is different, decidedly so, I'm watching a city metastasize and die all around me. It's visible, palpable, and it's not some outlying, marginalized neighborhood- it's the very heart and soul of downtown San Francisco (and its surrounding environs), sucked dry like a forlorn Martian landscape.

And it ain't gonna get better, before it gets worse. No one has a plan, not a one has the slightest what to do...

Fleeting glimpses of the remains of California dreamin'...

Mom's An Alien!

Pretty freakin' fascinating- this photo boggled the ol' noggin since first I laid eyes on quite some time ago... couldn't make heads nor tails of it, no way no how! A cartoon alien spaceman of rather large proportions and questionable visual presence finally rendered all too familiar and domestic...

Absolute Madness

Photo: © Stan Banos

I sincerely hope someone (ie- EVERYONE!) is taking this threat S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y! This is catastrophe of monumental proportion, the kind which Putin must be made to understand will guarantee so called Western civilization (if it is in fact in any way civilized) to automatically implement his immediate termination, post haste. No escape, no negotiation. It would be a much more merciful death than for the thousands who would linger and suffer agonizingly slow and painful deaths from radiation sickness, but he must be made to realize that he would not be given even one furtive second to enjoy his sick, sadistic savagery...

NY Not So Confidential

Mermaid Parade 2023-  All Photos: © Stan Banos

I'm not claustrophobic, do not experience any fear of flying whatsoever- but any flight lasting over three hours is sheer, absolute fucking torture! I just get the heebie jeebies Big Time from then on- can't sleep, can't concentrate, can't sit still, can in no way be comfortable thereafter, period! And I'm not your average extra large American, nor am I a particularly envious person; keep your conspicuous items of consumption- you can have 'em all. Oh, but those First Class Mother Fucking airline seats- Jesus Fucking Lord!!! Wanna kill and maim everyone of those smug SOB's sprawled about oh so carefree and comfortable as I march back without recourse to my personal chamber of horrors... But I digress.

Mermaid Parade 2023- Coney Island

I must admit to having experienced some measure of culture shock returning to my NYC homeland this year! The Big Apple by all visible means seems to be thriving as ever: streets crowded with tourists and every measure of New Yorker hustling and bustling to make a dollar any which way they can, streets loud and alive with chatter, sirens and noises galore. In short, everything major cities used to look and sound like, so unlike the ghost town I inhabit today- storefronts vacant, downtown streets deserted, the homeless once ignored now the most dominant signs of remaining life. Having invested it's economy and very soul in Big Tech, San Francisco now suffers the consequences of entrusting its future to an entire generation whose allegiance is where they've always found it- right within the immediate vicinity of their laptop, the one true center of their reality. It's said one third (more like two thirds) of office space lies vacant downtown, restaurants and other supportive businesses are also shuttered and you're lucky to see a half dozen pedestrians ambling about on most downtown streets. Downtown San Francsico is nowhere near NYC in terms of acreage, but it once was mobbed nonetheless too...

Brooklyn 2023

East Village, 2023

So... it was good to see a living, thriving city again; although to be honest, it was also sheer madness! NY had become another entity as foreign as it was familiar when I decided to leave twenty some years ago, before I too devolved into some elderly NY street oddity. And although San Francisco is in its utter depths at present, I have no burning desire to permanently return to the land of my birth. I guess that's what's called a conundrum- not knowing where to spend my remaining "Golden Years" when I max out on SS at seventy- assuming I get there in the remaining two plus years... 

Long Island City 2023

Long Island City driveway

Long Island City driveway

Anyway, until that fateful date, we'll just have to keep wondering what will be torn down first and sold for scrap: The Vessel in NY- you can walk into its middle on the ground floor, but every set of stairs leading upward has been securely boarded up; or The Millenium Tower in San Francisco, which is still trying to right itself on the cheap, and getting all the more crooked with every passing day... 

Don't Sit On My Fucking Bike Bitch- Coney Island, 2023

Best graffiti seen in NYC- "Make Art, Get Rich- Ask Me How!"

Summer Break!

 See ya's end of June- back to the motherland in NYC...

Rule 29

Well, this is certainly... most interesting- particularly Part A: Before Submission to the Jury. In other words, Judge Cannon can decide, on her own, before the case goes to the jury, that the prosecution has not presented sufficient evidence for conviction and effectively acquit the defendant. Donald J Trump walks, decision cannot (repeat cannot) be appealed...

And this is in addition to: having power over jury selection, granting of delays, determining what is and isn't admissible evidence, etc, etc, etc...

"Scary As Hell!"

I don't question his guilt or innocence- I only question how many will now have to die in his name...

They Finally Nailed The S-O-B!

Photo: © Stan Banos

Seven years after the fact, seven years plus after a career grifter, con man and career criminal was allowed to become POTUS- we finally, finally have a federal indictment. A serial liar who became POTUS in part by decrying "Crooked Hillary" of abusing her handling of classified documents, and swearing he would make their security a priority of his administration- remember that? Yeah, I know- it's hard to keep track... The guy who lied about: how many floors are in Trump Tower, having bone spurs, where his own father was born, never having to ask for money* while running for POTUS, making Mexico pay for a wall... Yeah, the same guy who said he met The President of the US Virgin Islands- that guy!

I know, I know- we're not quite there yet; it's not a conviction (yet). But I got faith in my man Jack, the best Smith that ever was or will be. Jack No Joke, Jack Dead Serious. It's still gonna take time, and Trump's gonna shift his weight, divert our attention and scream bloody murder throughout. But it don't matter; it-just-don't-matter. Jack's got his man, and Jack won't let go...

*because he's a billionaire- Not!

Beyond Pain!!!

I've experienced some pain in my life as of late- but this is literally well beyond imagining! 
BTW- nothing like a family that has your back...

RAW Vs...

 Think the difference between RAW and the final edited image is night and day? Then go to 9:00...

Think Quick...

Photo: © Stan Banos

Catholicism has this particularly peculiar practice called "confession" where one proclaims your sins to a priest in a darkened booth, and he, representing The Almighty himself, then absolves you of said sins- until you show up the next time with a brand new batch of more, worse or same. I was standing in line waiting to go into the confessional once, maybe around fifth grade, desperately trying to figure out exactly what to proclaim I was guilty of. I finally, somewhat hesitantly, copped to having impure thoughts,* even though I wasn't quite sure exactly what the hell that entailed, just thought it sounded all encompassing enough, yet somehow, vaguely specific enough, so that the priest would accept it at face value without questioning further- questions concerning the details of which I would have absolutely no idea of... Fortunately, it worked, I think we both fully realized we were in a no win situation which could only get tragically, or at best comically worse should one enquire further. 

As a matter of protocol, priests are not allowed to divulge our transgressions to the authorities, not even if you're a serial killer, not even if you're a fellow priest buggering little boys. Wonder what the penance is for those two "Mortal" Sins? Gotta be a helluva lot more than the coupla Hail Mary's and Our Father's that my "Venial" Sins usually garnered. 

*DISCLAIMER: I do not by any means mean to imply that I originated that oft used pre/pubescent phrase, it was, as I now recall, the most ubiquitous of go to avoidance terms.

An Archaeology of Silence

I've been lucky to have seen some pretty good art in my day, perhaps because I've survived and persisted through seeing so much of the shit that passes for it. Much of it has been in the realm of photography, the one medium I have a passing acquaintance with. But I like to think that I can enjoy and sometimes even appreciate quality in any form, be it a vintage watch, a good cigar, a Renaissance painting.

On Memeorial Day Weekend, I visited Kehinde Wiley's tour de force at the DeYoung Museum in San Francisco. The highly detailed and decorative paintings, along with the reclining sculptures were impressive enough, but they neither grabbed at my soul nor any other part of me (others, maybe most, would very rightfully disagree). A major let down considering the hype concerning the amount of emotion that this exhibit was said to induce in all that saw it. Yes, incredible technique, but... 

And then I came upon the sculpture of the same name- two stories in height, in its own darkened and discreetly lit chamber, reminiscent of entering some sacred Roman temple of yore. And there I stood- transfixed, mouth agape, as if bludgeoned by a ball bat upon gazing upward. I don't think I've ever experienced such a gut punch from a work of art my entire life; the size, grandeur, majesty- people reverently stood in silence, walked slowly around it, strangely seeming to adhere to the outer walls that contain it, as if keeping their distance from whatever power it exuded to all who dared view and present themselves before it! 

The horse itself is classically magnificent, but what transforms the whole piece unto the realm of art mythology and personal resonance is the body of the black male atop it, on its back, legs splayed to one side, a solitary hand drooping down the other. Both stunning and heart wrenching, something I am not likely to forget ever- no photograph could even suggest the in person experience, none included...

25 Seconds...

I tend to be judgmental, sometimes to the point of being prejudicial, not so much in a raced based manner, more in the way of stereotyping people. Everyone does it, it's part of sizing people up, it saves both time and kinda lures you into a false sense of confidence- you are a man of the world who knows how it works and are a good judge of character and your fellow man! 

Unfortunately, I probably (undoubtedly) get it more often wrong than right, something I have to constantly remind myself- particularly because I-so-hate when people pigeon hole me. So I really kinda love when I get it so wrong and people surprise the shit outta me- in a positive way! Like this guy, or...

Carl

...as in Perkins! Can't get over the look, sound and feel of this video in all its B&W wonder! Half crazy man, half steam punk...

Bare bones minimum/Maximum impact; wonder if it ever played MTV?

The Ever Changing Construct

Recently I wrote a post about the ridiculous insanity of a "Mexican American Neo-Nazi," the writing of that very term a sheer exercise in lunacy. That said, some people to this day refuse to believe just how malleable the construct of race actually is, to them it's as clear as uhhh... black & white- despite the numerous examples throughout history proving otherwise. 

This video briefly traces the history of Italian American immigrants in the United States particularly down South, where they were basically seen and treated as another version of N-word until they were gradually redeemed and upgraded to official White status when it served a purpose. It also neglects to mention how the arrival or Puerto Ricans (my people) in the North helped boost that White privilege upon Italian Americans, just as Italians helped solidify the Irish (previously regarded as non White apes) unto their honorary White status. It always helps to have a new fall guy (traditionally just a shade darker) to hasten the ascension of the previous group of racial downtroddens. Now there are certain factions of the KKK that actually accept Italian Americans into their fold (even Ron DeSantis could join)! How do you spell "progress?" 

And so we get to the present day where even light skinned Cuban Americans who speak without accent can be effectively perceived as "White" in these United States. And the Carribean to this day remains a hotbed of racial hierarchy based on skin color and secondary 'racial' attributes. 'White' Cubans predominate the expat contingent who fled Cuba under Castro to Florida; poor, dark(er) skinned Cubans predominate those who remained on the island. Puerto Rico, the island I'm most familiar with, also maintains its colonial heritage: skin color, hair texture and other secondary 'racial' characteristics can easily come into play when considering one's social status, deliberately or unconsciously. And then there is the case of the Dominican Republic, where the majority of peoples African heritage is clearly on display; and nowhere is it clearly more in denial- because everyone knows that anyone "Black" is obviously located on the other side of that island's border in a place called... Haiti! Hey, someone's gotta hold up the bottom line if we're gonna keep this whole system up and running. 

BTW- Amazingly, it's still a very popular notion to hold up Haiti as proof positive as to how a Black run enterprise can only produce a "shit hole country" (to use official Trumpian terminology). Unfortunately, none who believe that have even the slightest, most tenuous knowledge of how Western countries (incl our own) have throughout the centuries purposely gone out of their way to repeatedly and perniciously punish Haiti into the economic, social and worldwide pariah that it remains simply because they (a colony of Black slave labor) had the audacity and ingenuity to defeat a major colonial power... 

"Mark Your Calendars"

Submitted w/o comment- except to say that Fatman Motherfucker is going down! Here in Atlanta starting in late July/early August, in DC over the purloined documents (and quite likely Jan. 6), and even in the appetizer in NYC. No matter- Fatman Motherfucker is finally... F-I-N-A-L-L-Y going down!

Two For The Road

Yeah, the video's title quote is one very much, well worth remembering. But the one that really got me was, "I want my picture to be more important than being there." That's what separates a vernacular snapshot from a work of art. If you can do that... well, there ain't much more you can possibly do, is there?

Nuclear Redux

Well, someone seems pretty damn high on reviving an old flame. And I really can't deny a whole lotta of what he says, problem is (actually, problems are) he can't deny a lotta what opponents still say, whether he cares to admit it or not. I'll let Mr. Stone explain and expound his own talking points on the strengths of reviving nuclear energy, all I can say: we still haven't figured a safe way to store the deadly, centuries lasting radioactive waste; this most recent Russian/Ukrainian debacle has highlighted just how vulnerable and potentially catastrophic traditional nuclear sites can be; talk of safer, new fangled micro plants present ever more attractive targets for terrorists from any political faction you choose; and even if you could eliminate all the aforementioned, humans always (as in always) make mistakes- a leak or fire in a fossil fuel plant can be a generational disaster at most, screwing up where nuclear fission is concerned can result in centuries of human and environmental catastrophe. And let's not forget just how prone to lying and obfuscation the nuclear industry worldwide has been throughout their history.

But... you needn't take my word (or Mr. Stone's for that matter)- if the Japanese and their obsessive attention to detail and commitment to procedure can't effectively avert a major freaking disaster that will literally continue to threaten their children's children (and well beyond), no group of humans anywhere possibly can!

FREEDOM!!!

Photo: © Stan Banos

We're movin' on up; think of it- Latin X children throughout our great land can finally dream of being Neo-Nazis! If that ain't progress in the US of A, I don't know what is- America really doesn't see race after all! Nick Fuentes never got the memo that he couldn't be a Neo-Nazi simply because he's Hispanic. I mean even a dark skinned "mulatto" the likes of Enrique Tarrio can be a full fledged White Supremacist now. And if that don't top all, Yeezus freakin' himself is a self professed Hitler acolyte! No way I could aspire to such lofty possibilities back in the day.

Been thinking on this for a while now and this whole Mauricio Garcia mass shooting really set things off, I mean, I had to go see what the guy looked like (upon writing this very paragraph) cause he most definitely comes off like some blonde haired, blue eyed Nazi in good standing- and, uhhh, surprise... let's just say he would have indubitably been on the receiving end of any OG SS officer's Luger. 

Seriously, I don't know what to make of this, then again if you can pervert the teachings of a Jesus Christ, an ideology of complete compassion and pacificism, into... "White Christian Nationalism" just to suit your needs- hey, sky's-the-limit! If you can do that in your own head, then believing yourself some form of mythological White super being no matter what shade of Brown, Black, or "non-White" you may be... piece o' cake! And shooting up a bunch of innocent men, women and children to justify it- easy fuckin' peasy.

How The Mighty Have Fallen!

The arrival of Whole Foods is usually one of the last steps of gentrification's final victory statement in any given neighborhood, but (with well over 600 emergency calls in one year) they kinda jumped the gun this time around; like Mike Tyson at the end of his career when he no longer bothered to bob and weave, didn't do the work and just rushed straight in, high on his own hype, expecting to deliver the inevitable knock out blow- and instead, getting himself KO'ed in return.

Too damn smug and arrogant to even consider what they were surrounded by, like the scores of luxury apts (they were appealing to) rising above the swelling torrent of homelessness below, they just plopped themselves right smack into the swirling zombie morass of the mentally ill, drug ravaged heart of San Francisco, and surprise, surprise- even their gleaming aisles of high priced premium goods couldn't keep the riff-raff at bay!  

The Quiet Girl

No explosions, gun fights, super heroes or their obligatory super powers- no CGI, period! This is about as bare bones a movie and plot line as one can possibly get- and all the above, all the more worth celebrating in any gosh darn movie these days! Presented in near square format, it is beautifully shot- like as essay of color photographs shot with a twins lens reflex.

The Quiet Girl (did I mention it's entirely in Irish) is aptly named, she's just trying to survive without friends or any close attachments in an essentially loveless family. The father is a selfish, uncaring bastard and mom is barely treading water herself with the rest of the kids (and another on the way) et al...

She is sent to a cousin's farm for the summer, a couple (who we later find out) has recently lost their own young son. The wife is a loving sort who immediately takes to the child, her husband, hardened from the pain of loss is a tougher nut to crack, but slowly succumbs.

It's hard even for the audience to warm up to the girl, she is after all, "quiet," somewhat aloof (as can be expected), and not particularly cute in a way that would make one automatically warm up to her. But one eventually does take to her- it's just a kid desperately wanting to belong and be loved, by anyone. And she finally, finally, finds just that with her new relations, only to be returned at summer's end to her loveless home environment. The sense of doom is visceral, it's the kind of existence that quashes any hope, any dream, any will to continue- the kind of gut punch that breaks child or adult alike. It ends with her running after her temporary family after they reluctantly drop her off and depart for their farm, her father running after her to forcibly reclaim that which he wants no part of...