I Know It’s Over, Still I Cling

As Lionel Hutz observed, “this is the most blatant case of fradulent advertising since my suit against the film The Never-Ending Story.” After a long ass hike up to Gough and Market I find the gate padlocked at the Fecal Face Dot Gallery, meaning I’m shut out of what according to SF Station is the last day of Tara Foley’s exhibit Say Hello to Neverending. Through the glass I get tantalizing glimpses of tike-sized castles and trees and smack in the middle of the tiny room a freestanding charred wooden door. Perhaps this is the best way to view it after all, dimly through smudged glass, like trying to recall the world of our childhood again (no reason you should suffer though; some very nice images appear at the link above, as well as the correct show closing date).

Luckily I fortified myself for the walk with the Duck Confit Hash at Maverick (although my friend Ryan’s chorizo and eggs were even better). Lots of stills of James Garner in western attire in the bathroom but I can’t get “I gotta send one of you jokers to Miramar!” out of my head.

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