Odds and Evens

That tagline up on the header right now pretty much says it all. If it’s not walkable, it’s MUNI for me and sometimes this proves an aggravating experience. Fully caffeinated on a Saturday morning I wander around taking pictures and then settle in at Mariposa and Bryant to get my $45 worth.

Elapsed wait time: 50 minutes

No. of busses that pass by going the opposite direction: 4

No. of other potential passengers who give up: 1, a MUNI driver clearly about to start her shift, who had even less confidence in the service than I did.

Possibility that San Francisco public transportation might prove so enticing that citizens will give up their cars: 0%

When the bus arrives it’s packed to the gills. Armed with the knowledge that the elusive 27 likes to hunt in packs, I wait five more minutes and climb aboard a car with plenty of breathing room.

Waves of shoppers take up every available inch of sidewalk, mistaking an afternoon inferno for “nice weather.” It’s always a relief to give the Market St. crowds the slip by turning the corner onto a deserted street where 49 Geary waits in the relative quiet. It feels like you’re privy to some undisclosed location ignored by maps and directories. I give the secret hand signal to the security guard at the desk and head up to Toomey Tourell. This is what makes it all worth it.
God damn it.

Too stubborn to give in, I grab some carpet and pout. Now I have to pee, which means begging a gallery attendant or owner for a key. Screw it. I go down the hall to see if there’s anything new at Steven Wolf.

One end of a huge painted landscape of a mountain vista is peeking out of the office, looking like a ship that’s just pulled into port. On the walls are a series of collages by brothers Kent and Kevin Young. The news article clippings give the feeling of free association on the subject of twins. Extracted bit by bit from the surrounding context of whatever was deemed timely and notable that day, they come across as the plunder of an obsessive’s scrapbook. “Is it just us,” ask the conspiracy theorists, “Or do twins hold a peculiar fascination for people?”

In the side gallery a Milton Bradley game is set up at a table. According to the website, this was to provide Bay Area twins the opportunity to try out their ESP aptitude by quizzing one another during the opening reception.
Kreskin: the original Dungeon Master.

Nearby four monitors tick off the results of a million die rolls, perhaps highlighting the craps game of genetics that every so often comes up “twins.”
Next time: Toomey better be open. Still need to use restroom.


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