this morning we went up potrero hill to the annual fair. we started with a pancake breakfast at the neighborhood house. i kept thinking how much my dad would love this as we ate homeade pancakes and eggs while an incredible jazz band of what looked like 75 or more year old musicians (stand up bass, trombone, drums, keyboard, trumpet, sax, woman singer in big floppy hat) played jazz. all was free, with jumpy castles, sugar skulls to decorate, pumpkins to paint, an obstacle course to run wild on, cookies to top with icing and sprinkles.
later we walked, pushed/sat in the stroller or rode a batman bike through the mission to see some friends play in a new version of an old band at the homestead. they are called the mummyshots, and awesome. maya drank a shirley temple and miles cavorted on the sidewalk outside with edison and emily while his dad watched him and drank PBR. i heard someone say that having kids in the bar made it seem more wholesome. we even got blessed by a visit from the tamale lady herself.
right now there is a crazy LOUD noisecore (i'm guessing at this description) band playing in a house party nearby, unless someone is blasting a concert album i've never heard. feedback and bass and angry unintelligible screamed/shouted lyrics and drunken cries of joy and all are floating into my window. i can imagine the crowd and keg and sweaty smells and moshing in a little space because i've been there before.
rock on, my neighborhood!
love, me
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