Ok, I don't even know where to start. My favorite piece so far but I guess because i'm somewhat bias here as a native SF who grew up on 38th and Wawona. I can visualize every single place and feeling you mention and A+ for accuracy. That line about the Muni bus driver (as mentioned by commenter Bower) is seriously LOL. Muni drivers were notoriously known for being rude and inpatient. As local kids we all did pretty much the same thing; ran a bit wild, went from drinking @ speedway meadows in GGP to dive bars in the sunset and eventually found our way to the Marina where the "yuppies" hung out (The Triangle). The sunset kids had quite the reputation, justified btw, of being rough; drinking and fighting. I also knew of someone who stabbed someone else (he didn't go to jail however). I can see how you would fit in with the crowd. Most of us were kids of Irish immigrants who didn't have curfews. Some attended CCSF aka Harvard on the Hill but most went on to work as cops, firemen, plumbers etc...We spent our youth doing exactly what you did but the funny thing is so many wanted to get out once 30's hit and people started getting married. They hated the fog and longed for warm summers where you could go out in shorts every day. The reality is we wore ski jackets most of the summer. We all went to Catholic Schools but that was no way a sign of wealth. Discounts and free lunches were given out to a lot of families and the closer you got to the water (Great Highway) the lower class you were (sounds crazy as nowhere on earth does one's home value go down closer to the ocean). Sunset Blvd was the dividing line, so you either live above or below the Blvd. That class distinction no longer applies as the medium home price for an outer sunset home goes for over a mil. I'm glad you got to experience it and you've captured it so well. I did alot of laughing. Good Job.
Lovely note! I think I remember hearing that about home prices dropping in the Sunset as you got closer to the water. Interesting. It’s got a storied history for sure. I do remember a half dozen dive bars there, especially one on I think 47/Judah which was a classic blue-collar hang. There was a wild bar fight there when my friend I were shooting pool one night; whole bar erupted in chaos. Fun times. You know: There’s something magical nonetheless about that cool fog and the ocean, the dunes, the park, etc. Maybe it’s cause I wasn’t born there, or because I was 25 when I came. There’s just something magical and mysterious about the sunset, and really about all SF.
I love Kushner's book too, in part for how strong of a part my native San Franciscan plays. Her words and experience ring true, even though she's not "from" here—as do yours. San Francisco finds its way into a lot of my pieces, and, there's a lot more for me to write there.
This is a great little scene:
"...he placed his palm on the slot, shook his head, gazed at me as if I were the dumbest fool on Earth, and said simply, 'Change only.'"
And yes, the thing about being hard. I felt it too, jumping my enduro bike across the flat-top intersections between the same steep blocks I'd ridden my skateboard down a few years prior, before skateboard helmets, before motorcycle helmets, just a hat turned backwards and a Camel filter in my face, Supertrapp exhaust, second gear, brappppppppppp and flying through the air in the middle of the night, on my way to houseful of bike messengers, pizza slingers, dopeheads and college kids.
One piece of mine that has a lot of Frisco in it, from an even earlier age:
Yeah, man!! That thrill of being wild and taking bigger risks than most. Especially people like me who came from money and felt they had a lot to prove.
This is so damn well written and richly imagined that I had to comment. I wish I had time to read all of Mohr’s work here. I’m glad I read this. I’ve never heard of Kusher and I can’t say punk rock is my thing. But that’s not the point, the writing is. This author is the real deal. Sort of like the first time I encountered Kerouac and On the Road, that rich, seemingly limitless flow of ideas and associations. Mr Mohr deserves to be widely read.
High praise, Joshua! I appreciate that very much. Thank you! This is what every writer longs to hear. You truly made my day. I hope you keep reading more!
I've read some of Kusher's work before. She's good. And the thought of being the soft one in a hard crowd hits me in the belly. All my life, I've been the soft Indian boy in a hard crowd of Indians.
Ha! I love this. Yes. Me too. The soft punk rock white boy from a privileged background wearing the hard mask (I was a good actor) to fit in. I guess it's kinda that funny irony in life: The most privileged of us often feel the need to try the hardest to fit in, especially when it's punk rock or something society associates with "toughness." (Because what, really, was I fighting so hard against? Privilege?)
Ah, yes. The soft Indian in a crowd of hard ones. Intriguing. I'm seeing a new poem here...
As a side note, if anyone is interested in some really cool sunset paintings check out this artist. He has a piece titled "Judah" and "Great Highway". https://www.musgrovepainting.com/paintings/imif5iigdpl5zyuk5vncii4njowqfl
Ok, I don't even know where to start. My favorite piece so far but I guess because i'm somewhat bias here as a native SF who grew up on 38th and Wawona. I can visualize every single place and feeling you mention and A+ for accuracy. That line about the Muni bus driver (as mentioned by commenter Bower) is seriously LOL. Muni drivers were notoriously known for being rude and inpatient. As local kids we all did pretty much the same thing; ran a bit wild, went from drinking @ speedway meadows in GGP to dive bars in the sunset and eventually found our way to the Marina where the "yuppies" hung out (The Triangle). The sunset kids had quite the reputation, justified btw, of being rough; drinking and fighting. I also knew of someone who stabbed someone else (he didn't go to jail however). I can see how you would fit in with the crowd. Most of us were kids of Irish immigrants who didn't have curfews. Some attended CCSF aka Harvard on the Hill but most went on to work as cops, firemen, plumbers etc...We spent our youth doing exactly what you did but the funny thing is so many wanted to get out once 30's hit and people started getting married. They hated the fog and longed for warm summers where you could go out in shorts every day. The reality is we wore ski jackets most of the summer. We all went to Catholic Schools but that was no way a sign of wealth. Discounts and free lunches were given out to a lot of families and the closer you got to the water (Great Highway) the lower class you were (sounds crazy as nowhere on earth does one's home value go down closer to the ocean). Sunset Blvd was the dividing line, so you either live above or below the Blvd. That class distinction no longer applies as the medium home price for an outer sunset home goes for over a mil. I'm glad you got to experience it and you've captured it so well. I did alot of laughing. Good Job.
Lovely note! I think I remember hearing that about home prices dropping in the Sunset as you got closer to the water. Interesting. It’s got a storied history for sure. I do remember a half dozen dive bars there, especially one on I think 47/Judah which was a classic blue-collar hang. There was a wild bar fight there when my friend I were shooting pool one night; whole bar erupted in chaos. Fun times. You know: There’s something magical nonetheless about that cool fog and the ocean, the dunes, the park, etc. Maybe it’s cause I wasn’t born there, or because I was 25 when I came. There’s just something magical and mysterious about the sunset, and really about all SF.
I love Kushner's book too, in part for how strong of a part my native San Franciscan plays. Her words and experience ring true, even though she's not "from" here—as do yours. San Francisco finds its way into a lot of my pieces, and, there's a lot more for me to write there.
This is a great little scene:
"...he placed his palm on the slot, shook his head, gazed at me as if I were the dumbest fool on Earth, and said simply, 'Change only.'"
And yes, the thing about being hard. I felt it too, jumping my enduro bike across the flat-top intersections between the same steep blocks I'd ridden my skateboard down a few years prior, before skateboard helmets, before motorcycle helmets, just a hat turned backwards and a Camel filter in my face, Supertrapp exhaust, second gear, brappppppppppp and flying through the air in the middle of the night, on my way to houseful of bike messengers, pizza slingers, dopeheads and college kids.
One piece of mine that has a lot of Frisco in it, from an even earlier age:
https://open.substack.com/pub/bowendwelle/p/f04-the-wall
Yeah, man!! That thrill of being wild and taking bigger risks than most. Especially people like me who came from money and felt they had a lot to prove.
This is so damn well written and richly imagined that I had to comment. I wish I had time to read all of Mohr’s work here. I’m glad I read this. I’ve never heard of Kusher and I can’t say punk rock is my thing. But that’s not the point, the writing is. This author is the real deal. Sort of like the first time I encountered Kerouac and On the Road, that rich, seemingly limitless flow of ideas and associations. Mr Mohr deserves to be widely read.
High praise, Joshua! I appreciate that very much. Thank you! This is what every writer longs to hear. You truly made my day. I hope you keep reading more!
I've read some of Kusher's work before. She's good. And the thought of being the soft one in a hard crowd hits me in the belly. All my life, I've been the soft Indian boy in a hard crowd of Indians.
Ha! I love this. Yes. Me too. The soft punk rock white boy from a privileged background wearing the hard mask (I was a good actor) to fit in. I guess it's kinda that funny irony in life: The most privileged of us often feel the need to try the hardest to fit in, especially when it's punk rock or something society associates with "toughness." (Because what, really, was I fighting so hard against? Privilege?)
Ah, yes. The soft Indian in a crowd of hard ones. Intriguing. I'm seeing a new poem here...