Total: Two! [This post is under construction.]

Google Photos' AI Interpretation with Vecteezy's Ari choirul's meteor graphic added.  

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Just two.

    One Perseid meteor sighting per night;t thought I wanted moonless nights at that, with the local fog, as AI imagined above, threatening to shut down the peak viewing. Only I had to slow the AI's speed to a quarter of what it thought I wanted. And even with the slow down, the clouds/fog were moving far, far slower - like molasses.

I onlÿ⅞y

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My actual photo from the Perseid Meteor Shower's peak (moonless) night.

   

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Prophetic Coincidence Plus Fifty [This post is back under construction.]

 [NOTE: I came back to post and decided to unfurl the past.SEEbottomof vv

   Today most likely marks the golden anniversary of a "prophetic" fulfillment. A repudiation that signaled and sealed my emotional doom. I am sour I know, bitter and dour. I am only thinking of myself, despite my claiming to love you. Yet that is the paradox: for what is the sunny, golden anniversary of your unbroken relationship with the one who has you given joy unceasing (your joy being my supposedly stated objective in life and only interest) is the dark reality that it is not me: cast forever instead into unending isolation - as foretold. Fifty years ago, that coincidental prophecy came to pass; that run of coincidences with the force of prophecy unfolded.

It was his cousin who this day five decades ago, announced the shocking news. To the utter surprise of everyone, you had rejected every last one of your paramours vying for your hand for a youth straight out left field a kid! several years your junior - the woman hater, the one formerly wanting nothing whatsoever to do with women! His cousin could scarcely believe he went after the one female most prized and won. He the boy and fresh out the gate. He the woman hater.

  It still hurts and wildly to this day. It is an albatross I will never loose from my neck until I am brain dead. Your joy is at my sorrow. It can't be helped. It just is. You have done no wrong whatsoever. Again, it just is. I am the collateral damage. There is no sin. There is no escape short of complete memory loss or physical death. Again,..

Courtesy of ChatGPT It was the darkest day of my life. The rest is just fallout.

  

    

Should I detail the exact events of that day? Doing so will only get me into a deep funk. I’d only be rubbing salt into the wound, still fresh five decades past . I know what happened, even though you, the reader, don’t. Believe me, the sky came crashing down, and I am still buried alive. The golden day for her was my coffin. The joy she remembers, spelled my being forgotten - forever.  Maybe one day, I’ll describe what exactly it was that transpired, but for now I can only speak of the unavoidable pain. The consequence that kills, that dashes, and can’t see you. It is what it is.

-FIN-

Six and a half years earlier, in January of 1970, as I was sweetly wrapping your present for your sixteenth birthday, a family member with a clairvoyant reputation came up to me. No no uncertain term, she proceeded to tell me of the pointlessness of my intent, action, and gift. I would never woo or win you they said, least of all that way. However, changing my approach would be to no avail irregardless, for the person for whom you would fall, would be my total opposite, with respect to my ardor, someone wholly antithetical to all that I was.

Then came the breakdowns of the person in question, a brief list of their attributes ending with most notable: a complete disdain and aversion to all women.

You had scores of suitors and it was none of them. Who then?

Like cold water, I knew at once. That could only be…

And it was.

A child, barely thirteen. Who “hated” women, and just that 

very week in the tight physical confines of an automobile crawled over me in order to escape having your younger sister, his cousin best friend, sit next to him.

Like the fantasy film character, Pelias, warned by the goddess Hera to watch out for the man with one sandal (‘Jason, and the Argonauts like out of a Greek tragedy

I am definitely overplaying the facts stretching to near exaggeration. But it is all in an effort to merely hint at the impact and pain

Did the supernatural occur? I think not. Was it pure coincidence? An uncanny series of them to be sure (of which there were many more and I have only enumerated two or three) but definitely coincidence. How do I account for the numerous, phenomenal occurrences? A billion lives have been lived on this planet, so it’s no surprise that occasionally a run of coincidences is going to happen to someone. I just happened to have a such a streak, purely by chance.

My contention however is this. Even, if was all pure accident, it had all the same exact effect as if it had been the supernatural for real!

I did wait. I did watch. Looking out for the very one I was told to replace me, hoping with every atom of my being that it was entirely unfounded. It wasn’t.

Modeled essentially after that very family member - my mom, when she spoke of your sensibilities, she was in reality, plainly reflecting hers. Mom chose again me, you merely followed suit.

But the actual salt in the wound was yet to come

Not only was your chosen to be the very one foretold, More than that he had dream I was told was a fantasy and that I was a fool to believe in chase after and ever hope for myself - you indeed it turns out were his very first love and date. 

He was also the top of his class, the first in life in his field. His mom the second tier family in “the family” had every reason to boast. Her second born not only snagged the coveted prize, the pastor’s first born lovely daughter - you, he had made the pinnacle of his class at Berkeley. He was the lawyer the first tier family first born was to have become, but gave up to become a minister, much to his parents’ disappointment it was said. [That same son once also announced that he was promised by God Himself that you would be his! Don’t worry, I also made that claim to myself in desperation years before the first tier son.]

I was never accomplished at anything.

Not that your love is earned. It’s that he had you and everything else to boot on top of that. What am I? That’s right - cut glass. Only my one little love.

I still feel the admonishment of others for harboring the wild hope that I could win you or any other love for that matter right out the bat.

You put the quash on that.

That I also wished to be the best at something, anything, and naturally gifted… Not even in my own field as artist was I anything at all. Instead, mediocrity is my moniker. My once passion thoroughly extinguished. Move over Salieri!

You know what the real joke is on that second point, which oddly, ironically, ties into the firs? I lie.

I am the best at something, I am unmatched. There is no parallel to me. This not a boast. I have never wavered in my disposition towards you. Ever. Not for one second (1,832,659,200 seconds having elapsed at the very moment I am writing this!)*

The joke is, it’s on me, most would say. My one unparalleled trait is to them utterly pointless. Most would not nor can they stay the course. Without reciprocity their feedback would cease.

I continue despite any having return whatsoever. Is it love, limerence, foolishness, stupidity, delusion?

Pointless, pointless, useless they would add. Love cannot be earned. They’re right.

Still, I hold to this undiminished truth. What I know about you, what I experienced, I cannot deny. The fact of you, makes me: me. Naturally. And I find myself capable to continue to give, to continue. Uncannily, it is so. I must respond with favor towards you always. Even though the buffeting I or life’s circumstances bitterly inflict upon my person and plight disposed I remain. Against you, my heart can never be. Yes I decry the loneliness, I decry my invisibility being forever, but I cannot decry you. I will never put you out of my heart.

Without reward

Had you married anyone but. Had he been accomplished  but not remarkably so Had you been third or fourth stab at love, the pain of not being able to do for you what did me would have hurt but not as badly or in that unnecessarily particular way.

So for the ramble the mishmash which I will have to sort somehow someway.

The stream, er, torrent of thought.

I'm sorry I am apparently just gushing self pity I just don't how to convey that pain of reality that daily haunts me. I am nothing when I wanna say I wanna say I was not really so.

 

oh the repetition you charge

 

I suppose it's my forever wanna to fully state my case to flesh out every nuance for fear of leaving some essential that would fully explain me. I'm there in all that emotional blather, that tangle of earnestness, sorrow, and painting.

 

I think I really could have provided with something unmatched, something wonderful.

I am not a prison, I am not a poison, I am not a better. 

You always spelt my freedom  why oh why was I cursed to be nothing more to you than a chain, a suffocating bondage  a shadow, a pall.

I was unwanted fairly and honestly unwanted then became became a pest a plague a bane, despite my concerted effort to remove myself.

We're I to vanish altogether from life you first reflex would likely be to feel finally free of me Granted you would have to think hard to even remember me.

 

I wallow because I am not allowed to speak my worth of you 

This is the fate forever tied to me 

 

 Boy oh boy to arrange this seemingly self-indulgent ramble! If I speak for myself, I damn myself  If I don't, damn myself for certain to an oblivion that us total.

Had you counted me among your paramours Had you kept me, made me your kept man...had you counted me kept

That I could keep. 

That I could do for you. 

*58 Years, 27 days, 8 hours

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'School of Rock' (backdated)

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Early morning, predawn image of Fairfield's Downtown Theatre. (Photographer unknown)

    It’s the end of the month, the last day of the month in fact, Friday, July 31st, 2026, and I still haven’t come up with a subject to meet my quota of four posts per month.

    I know, I’ll post about the 23rd, but backdate the entry to the 24th, a week ago last Friday, and the day after. There is a reason for this and for keeping the time of day 10:36 AM, which it is at the moment.

    First off, I already, have a post for the 23rd of July, which as you know marked the 72nd birthday of my twin sister and I.

    Secondly, had I chosen to write on this subject, involving an evening event and the impressions with which I came away, I most likely would have begun doing so the following morning of the 24th. 

    So what happened? My sister Yvette and her friend, Andy Hernandez, decided to treat me on my birthday to see a live theatrical performance of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical play ‘School of Rock’ based on the 2003 film of the same name. The play was a presentation of Fairfield’s Missouri Street Theatre (MST) and the heart of the city’s Downtown Theatre was the venue.

    However, before I begin relaying my impressions of the production, I want to veer away for a moment to touch upon a melancholy matter having to do with turning seventy two, Genie and I are now older than are late, middle sister Angelica was at the time of her passing, which just a month and a half shy of her seventy second birthday, five years ago. It’s sobering to realize we have outlived her. I wish Angie were still with us instead. Due to our respective ages being similar to her, and our reaching seventy two, whereas she did not, this specific birthday was going to be unavoidably overshadowed by those particular facts. At least for me in part. I was with Angie, helping her when she left us. I cannot forget her.

     Life, goes on, and Angie would have wanted nothing but our happiness, so sure, let’s celebrate cheer, and take in a rock ‘n’ roll musical!

    It should be noted that I as an artist was also involved, among other crafts, in the thespian arts during my schooling. I have been on stage as an actor, as a touring singer and band member, I have worked behind the camera on set both professionally in television and film, so I come to the performance as one already initiated and acquainted with the lively arts.

1972 and Eighteen, Four Times Over

    72.

    1972.

    What, besides the pair of digits, have they in common?

    Well, for me on this day, July 23rd, 1972, I turned 18 and adult (as did my twin sister.)    

    Whereas today, we're eighteen again; for the fourth time.

    72.

    So to commemorate the occasion and coincidence, the summer of '72, being 18 the first time - sorry Michel Legrand, Peter Nero, and Bobby Goldsboro - and turning 72 (a multiple of 18) I thought, in fun, to play the number two Billboard chart topper for the week starting July 23rd, 1972 and ending July 29th. 

    'Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)' by Looking Glass.

Brandy, imaged by ChatGPT based on my prompts.

 

 -Official VEVO Music Video-

     Now, I suppose I could have chosen the top Billboard tune for that week, but that would have left me 'Alone Again (Naturally).'* 

 

;-) 


-FIN-

ChatGPT's accidental second image, mistaking my follow-up comment for a request.

 

*On July 23rd, 1972, Gilbert O'Sullivan (Raymond Edward O'Sullivan) with his melancholic ballad, held the top slot that week and would not relinquish it until August 26th, when Brandy at last claimed the title.

 

 

 

 

Dawnita Perryman and Her July 4th 'Break It Down' Line Dancers

 From my Facebook and YouTube: 

A freeze frame from the video below.

    Enjoying the Sestercentennial last Saturday with my sisters Yvette and Georgene, one of them a member of Dawnita Perryman's 'Break It Down' Line Dance class. As my sister was in the midst of the group, making it difficult to get a clean clean unobstructed view of her, I chose to concentrate on the instructor instead, and the class as a whole.

TRT: 10:48  

 Below is a copy of the announcement.

Mad Hatter Holiday Festival flyer.

 

     -FIN-

 

Marx "Prehistoric Times'

 Another nostalgic stroll down memory lane...

     My twin sister saw them first and excitedly pointed to the display window. "Ricky look! Look!" I did. My eyes got big and my mouth must have dropped open. Dinosaurs vacuum packed in plastic! Prehistoric monsters featured in either the front window of  J.J. Newberry's* or Woolworth's side-by-side department stores located on 'The Miracle Mile'** nearest 23rd Street. The year was 1960 sometime in the late fall. Night had already fallen, making the brightly lit windows displays all the more inviting. We, my twin sister, our two older sisters, and mom were headed south, walking along the west side of Mission with 23rd Street not too far away. Perhaps our mom was taking us to Sears on Mission and Army Streets, or to Kress, or the Mission Branch Public Library, I cannot say, but my twin and I brought everyone to an abrupt halt.

     "Ooh Mommie!" I must have cried. Hoping the combined enthusiasm of my twin and I would impress her to an urgency of some sort as my older sisters describe the various dinosaurs on display. Clearly our mother could see where our gaze had followed: from the Marx Toys' 'Prehistoric Monsters' subset, featuring eight dinosaurs to, the toy manufacturer's 'Prehistoric Times' complete play set of sixty pieces laid out across the base of the display case including terrain, plants, dinosaurs, pterosaurs, mammoths, sloths, cavemen, you name it.

    "Too expensive," Mother informed us, and with that we were on our way. My twin and I would have to settle for the window shopping experience and nothing more. 

 Marx Toys' 'Prehistoric Monsters' subset in its original package (a little worse for wear, tear, and shrinkage.)

 

 

 

 

 

     Not long after that night, our dad presented us with the subset of eight 'Prehistoric Monsters'. I don't it was Christmas Day, but before that. Oh joy, oh joy! There were only the eight molded creatures: the Triceratops, the Trachodon, the Stegosaurus, the Dimetrodon the Tyrannosaurus, the Allosaurus, the Ankylosaurus, and the Brontosaurus, but they were by far the most important.

Shown here, sans color, are the Marx Toys' eight, plastic 'Prehistoric Monsters' (terrain not included.)

 

  For decades they stayed in our possession until February 10, 1998, when as the remaining occupant of our family home, I had to move out upon its sale, and had to let go the final two monsters: the gray T-Rex, and the green sauropod.

Marx Toys 'Prehistoric Times' Complete Play Set (artwork from the box cover lid.)

-FIN-

 

*  J.J. Newberry Co., also titled the 5·10·25 Cent Store, was housed on the ground floor of the Mission Masonic Temple. F.W. Woolworth Co. was adjacent, occupying the actual northwest corner of Mission and 23rd Streets.

**'The Miracle Mile' was Mission Street from 16th Street to Army (now Cesar Chavez) Street.

Conjunctions and Occultations - It's been a busy month!

    It has!

2026-06-09 

The Close conjunction of Venus and Jupiter, plus Mercury.

    Starting on the third of June, I began taking snapshots of Venus and Jupiter with my mobile phone as they drew closer in the evening skies. For the most part the weather was warm and the western heavens relatively free of clouds, but then on the sixth, it started to cool, and with the increase threat of cloud cover building or fog coming inland. By the eighth, it looked pretty dire for the ninth being clear. The blanket of fog had all but blotted out the skies as far as the eye could see.

    Thankfully, the warmer and cloudless weather returned for the night of the main event, and stayed that way til the fourteenth. Below is the photo from the ninth when the conjunction of Venus and Jupiter was at its closest. The planet Mercury is also visible. Low in the WSW, you can spot it just above the rooftop and left of the tree to the right of the frame. It lies in an almost vertical line directly below the star Castor.

 

Wednesday, June 9, 2026 9:28:45 PM PDT Fairfield, California

      However, it took up to the twenty first of the month (the Summer Solstice) to compile and reposition the photos into the following video.

2026-06-16 

The Conjunction of Venus, Jupiter, the Moon, and Mercury

    A week later, the waxing crescent moon decided to join the line of three planets, Venus, Jupiter, and Mercury appearing somewhat equidistant from each other along the ecliptic.

Wednesday, June 16, 2026 9:28:45 PM PDT Fairfield, California

2026-06-17 

The Occultation of Venus

    Earlier today, the occultation of the planet Venus as the Moon passed in front of it.

    Here in Fairfield, Venus disappeared from view shortly after 11:33:36 AM PDT and didn't emerge from behind the Moon until an hour and twelve minutes later, at 12:45:22 PM PDT.

    My apologizes for the "hair in the gate", in the first half of the video, which due to the brightness of the day as compared to the brightness of the viewfinder display, made the lint nigh impossible to spot. I got rid of it for the second shot, but now had no pin point on which to focus, the moon being too indistinct, which is why Venus is slightly out of focus coming out from behind the lunar limb.

    I'm just happy I was able to capture the daylight event.

 

 2026-06-19 

Venus and the Praesepe

    Tonight, the planet paid a call on the Praesepe, also known as the Beehive Cluster, or designated as M44, NGC 2632, Cr 189.

Friday, June 19, 2026 9:45 PM PDT, Fairfield, California

    -FIN-

    ;-) 

 

Full Disclosure [This post is under construction.]

I plumb forgot!
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The popcorn I forgot to eat watching 'Disclosure Day' (2026) at the movies. My lapse was not on account of the film. I just plumb forgot. (I normally don't consume anything at the theater.) So I brought the stuff home and had it there.

 

 

 

 

My 2026-06-16 comment to PZ Myers' 2026-06-13 Pharyngula Freethought Blog post entitled 'I told you I might go see Disclosure Day'.

I just saw it today, with someone dear to me who is into alien visitations and stuff, otherwise I would have heeded your advice. Thanks for the heads up nonetheless.
I usually dislike Spielberg for dramatic excesses that constantly seem to happen in total isolation. Two train operators who won’t stop for anything and somehow lack radio communications between them. Then there are other absurdities like the crack security forces that never cover all the exits before they move in on the target and can’t see or hear open movement within feet of them. Plus vehicles that would be knocked out of commission with their first fender bender. Later, a home copied down to every last single knickknack? Come on! When all this business of disclosure could have been completely and utterly avoided had the technically superior extraterrestrials, buzzing our skies for decades, just said “hello” to all the Earth at one time. Why dump the responsibility onto someone else to prove your existence? That feels more like God’s department.
Sorry for the hodgepodge, this movie is like a bad taste in my mouth. I’m still spitting it out!
You warned me.
:-)
One last thing, as a person of color, I am so tired of the white gaze; the white chosen, the white mediator, the white savior. This film and all the coming attractions preceding it, it was the same damn thing or variant thereof.

 

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'More on My Name'

    Today, I happened on Bébé Mélange's (née Great American Satan) 'Life's a Gas' 2026-06-15 Freethought Blog entry coincidentally entitled "Your True Name".

Bébé Mélange's (née Great American Satan)

     (Here is my reply further detailing some of the troubles I have had with respect to my namesake.)  

 

   My name, which was handed down to me after the death of my brother, who died before I was born, has caused me no end of bureaucratic grief. This was even before I added an extra middle name in 1997.

 

    Early in life, the school records had my name in the wrong order (thinking my middle name was my first). Later on, when I joined the work force, the IRS and SSA got me and someone else with my same namesake, employer, and birthday (not year) entangled. 

 

    That only took forty seven years of back ‘n’ forth to undo. 

 

    I was even denied benefits on account of my currently being in a federal penitentiary. 

 

    I was never incarcerated.
 

    Then the military came after me for evading registration although I had been registered and classified 1-O with them for decades. All of it because they too, had my name incorrect. 

 

    More back ‘n’ forth.
 

    So I changed my full title to a play on words. What the heck.
 

    😉

 

  -FIN-

 

MARS

From my 2026-06-07 I Facebook post and subsequent reply to John Heiden’s comment:

I was curious to see what ChatGPT would make of my name "Manuel Antares Richard Sanchez" which is a play-on-words I officially chose for myself in 1997. Antares is a star name which roughly translates "the rival of Ares" the Greek of war, known to the Romans as Mars - my very initials.

A collaboration between myself and ChatGPT

ChatGPT came up with the image and slogan you see, but I had to later darken the initials ChatGPT was instructed to do, but failed to execute.

Be assure however, I am most definitely anti-Ares!

And now that I've made an "arse" of my myself, my "ears" are burning!

;-)

Later that day, here is the question John Heiden (my friend and very first roommate) quite understandably put to me:

    “I’m sorry I haven’t asked sooner but which name do you prefer to go by now?”

And my reply:

The name by which you’ve always known me: “Richard”.

  I was handed three names at birth, which until I reached 18, were in the wrong order, then in 1993 I found they weren’t even my own, “Manuel Richard Sanchez” was the name of my late brother, who died before my twin sister and I were born. (I learned the truth stumbling upon his death certificate.)

 Instantly, I had no name of my own.

So I decided to add a fourth name to the three as to have one that was mine and no one else’s. My initials already spelled MRS, so why not make it MARS, as I love astronomy and 50’s sci-fi anyway.

Then I realized “Antares” and the word play would be perfect.

 In 1997 I made it official before a judge, amending all my government documents right down to my birth records.

“Richard” however remains my mom’s favorite spelling of the name I’m called.

I realize this is more than you ask, John, but “in for a penny…”

    ;-)

    In a related bit, my full name before the change has caused me nothing but bureaucratic nightmares. For forty seven years the IRS and SSA had me and another Richard Sanchez (same birth day but not year) entangled. The military was also on the lookout for me even though I was registered 1-O with them for decades. So on and so forth.

 [UPDATE: 2026-06-09

I think I could add to the slogan making it read thusly: One name. One star. One planet. One person. Maybe it's overdoing it with one phrase too many, instead of remaining succinct, tight, pithy with brevity the aesthetic goal. Then again, Mars is the fourth planet, and my name has four initials, and more importantly, there are four primary picture elements: the slogan, the star, my name, and the planet surface below! So the aesthetic concept of the number four most definitely comes into play. Maybe I can try to see if I can recreate the graphic on my own, with the necessary changes being made to it. We shall see.  

2026-06-11 12:08:00 AM PDT:

Voila! Dood! Here it is! Actually, it’s not that bad. All I had to do was have Google’s search A.I. roughly identify the font, Goudy Old Style, then cut the original slogan and replace it with the updated text.

The finalized image.

 

  -FIN-

 

Mancini and Morrison [This post just requires tags.]

    Here’s another quick item from my history to top off the month and meet my quota, not unlike the December 31st post ending out 2024 did for that month and the year.

    It was provoked by a question raised by Warwick Grant to the ‘Baghdad By The Bay’ Facebook Group in his May 22, 2026 post. The subject being the old Tower Records on Columbus, Jones, Bay in San Francisco, he asked everyone: “Did you ever buy your records here?”

 

Tower Records circa 1980. SFAI, my now defunct alma mater is also visible.

    This was my reply the next day: “Yes, my very first two albums in 1968: 'Hatari! (Music from the Motion Picture Score)’ Henry Mancini RCA Victor - LSP-2559, and 'The Doors' The Doors Elektra - EKS-74007.

    Er, Mancini and Morrison if you will.”*

   😉

'Hatari!' (1962) & 'The Doors' (1967)

       I was thirteen when Tower Records first opened its doors (no pun intended) even though 1967 was also the year The Doors eponymous debut was  coincidentally released. I was also being given an allowance for the first time and sometimes earning a little more with the occasional odd job or chore here and there. So with my older sisters telling me all about this neat record store way out on Bay Street at the end of the 47 Potrero bus route (we lived on Potrero), I scraped up and saved enough spending cash to make my first purchase ever of a phonograph record for myself!

    I immediately knew on what album that money would be spent: ‘The Doors’! I had to have the long play version of ‘Light My Fire’ to play on our family portable phonograph player.  I may have had the short, 45 version of the song, but that seven minute long performance was only on the album. Acquire it, I must! My sisters, even my twin sister had their 45’s, mainly Motown,  but I as yet had to own a full length record of my own. 

    1968 had already begun, so with the money in hand along with my bus card, I traveled across town to the North Beach venue. Tower Records was huge compared to all the other record shops I had ever seen. Its inventory seemed exhaustive. Wow! Thousand upon thousands of vinyl discs, 45’s, EP’s, LP’s, mono, high fidelity, stereo, you name it!

    Immediately locating my selection, I was doubly excited to learn the prices were just low enough that I could pay for, not one, but two albums; taxes included!**

    I scurried to find the  next section alphabetized under “M” or the soundtrack section, well knowing what that second album choice would be. For ever since I was first taken along with my twin by our dad to see Howard Hawk’s ‘Hatari!’ at the Paramount Theater on Market Street in June of 1962, I was mad about the film,*** the setting, the action, animals, and Henry Mancini’s magnificent score. He had already captured my ear with ‘Peter Gunn’ and ‘Mr. Lucky’. Definitely, ‘Hatari!’ was going to be the first of Mancini’s music I would collect.

    Heading up front, I paid for the items. The transaction went without a hitch. Albums under my arms (I can’t remember if Tower Records was already using the trademark yellow plastic bags with the bold red logo - Hey, come to think of it, I still have one of the smaller Tower bags for 45’s, CD’s and such, in my possession!)… where was I? Oh yes! Albums under my arms, securely tucked, I headed back post haste the quarter mile to the bottom of the 47 line at Van Ness Avenue and North Point.

    It felt years getting back across town (3.92 miles) bus stop after bus stop, but home was now auditory Heaven, the instant I laid that diamond needle down in that long play groove.

    

    -FIN-

 

Small Tower Records bag from the 1990's and still in my possession.

 

*The Mancini/Morrison line was added the day after that.

**Unfortunately, I cannot myself recall what the going price for the albums were, but looking it up online, it could have sold for as low as $2.98 per unit all the way up to $4.98 (the usual 1967 retail list price for a stereo album). Oddly enough, though our phonograph player was monaural, I exclusively bought stereo whenever I could. I guess I was a budding audiophile, even though at thirteen, I hadn’t the monetary means to afford stereophonic equipment That was still a couple of years away - like, late 1969 or mid 1970.

***By the time Tower Records opened, I had already seen the movie eight or nine times wherever it played, at the various theaters and re-releases. It didn’t air on television until its national network Fall premiere on ABC; yet again, would you believe it, in 1967!

 

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Audrey and "Orangey"*

    I dunno, having just seen 'The Devil Wears Prada 2' on the big screen, with my sister and Andy, yesterday afternoon (I had no idea the original was already twenty years past! How decades fly!) I’ve been feeling a little Holly Golight-ish all day since. 

    This frequently happens as a direct result of my catching a snappy and snazzy film about style, women, the Big Apple, and wit. Holly is my afterglow, with Director Blake Edward’s 1961 adaptation of Truman Capote’s ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Audrey Hepburn’s character being movie-wise, my fashion favorites!**

    Not too long afterwards, and purely by coincidence, I chance to see a Facebook sci-fi film post about "Orangey", the feline of the silver screen, who just so happen to also play “Cat” in the Hollywood/New York-based classic.

    Then I happened on this online image fur the furst time fur minutes ago!

Audrey Hepburn as “Holly Golightly” and "Orangey" as who, or rather, what else, “Cat”. Naturally.

    Cat naturally.

    ;-)

    -FIN-

*Wikipedia: "Orangey was a name used by multiple male, red domestic shorthair tabby cats which served as animal actors in motion pictures. While portrayed as a single cat in early studio publicity and news accounts, the cats' owner and trainer Frank Inn has stated that the original Orangey died prior to his first role and was actually multiple cats."

In fact, the feline depicted above, does not appear to be either of the two tabbies (Felis catus) purportedly used in the 1961 feature film, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’.

For these reasons I felt it proper to place the name in quotation marks.

**Note, my own blogger profile incorporates Golightly's whimsicality as well as my signature wink.

Some Works

     Today is my good friend Iddo Johannes Van Spall's birthday. He's seventy nine I believe. Today the fifty five year old Vaillancourt Fountain in San Francisco is also in the process of being dismantled. 

    What's the connection you ask? Well, the only clear image of Iddo in my possession was coincidentally photographed at that very same fountain in 1974. 

    So lifting an idea from the card I recently bought to celebrate my sister's birthday, the timely lift proving to be just the perfect tie I needed to bring everything together, I decided to take advantage of the coincidences and produce this.

Iddo's birthday card featuring the 'Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi' and the 'Vaillancourt Fountain'.

    Happy Birthday, Iddo!! 

    ;-)

 

    -FIN- 

 

Fountains: Gian Lorenzo Bernini's ‘Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi’ (1651) in the Piazza Navona, Rome, and Armand Vaillancourt's 'Vaillancourt Fountain' or 'Québec libre!’ (1971) in San Francisco and dismantled in May of 2026.

Dan Fontes 1958~2026

     To my total surprise, I just learned two hours ago through social media, that one of my Facebook Friends had suddenly passed. Dan Fontes, an acquaintance of mine, and renowned Oakland and Bay Area muralist, was only sixty seven at the time of his demise. According to early news reports, cancer was the cause.

    Normally, I would always receive his semi-regular Facebook updates, and merely thought the recent lull in posts was because of other art or hobby-related activities momentarily taking up his priorities. I had no idea.

    And now he's gone.

    Dan Fontes and I first met at Cafe Van Kleef (CVK) in Oakland. In need of more steady income, I had just switched over from the Oakland Arts Department to work for Peter Van Kleef at Peter's fledgling art bar. Due to my freelance association with the City of Oakland, I was already aware of Dan's mural work and was more than overjoyed to finally meet him, when in 2003 he accepted Peter's invitation to add four figures to the mural hanging in the cafe (more on that in a bit).

    Dan and I soon struck up a casual friendship, and remained acquaintances over the years. That acquaintanceship extended to Facebook. And as I actually happen to live so very near to one of Dan Fontes' "Animurals", he and I would sometimes run into each other on the street. After my stint at CVK and returning to the Oakland Arts, I would also bump into Dan there, at a public meeting or art event, or his at his studio space, the one or times I dropped in for a visit.

    I always enjoyed our meetings, however fleeting.

    Speaking of one such encounter...

    Below is a series of pictures I took, when I chance to catch Dan restoring one of his "Giraphics" murals beneath the 580. En route on foot to a weekly commitment in Oakland, where I was no longer a resident but still having business (just up Oakland Avenue in fact from where I use to reside) we crossed paths. My commitment it so happened, was smack on the opposite side of that same MacArthur overpass.

    Pleased to see each other, Dan and I chatted for a bit. Leaving his assistant to carry on, he then suggested and volunteered to descend the scaffold to take my photo, kindly obliging me with a photo pose in return before I had to dash off to keep my appointment.

     I had no idea then this would be our last public encounter. The date was Thursday, April 25, 2016.

Dan Fontes, when last we met, and I still had personal commitments in Oakland. Thursday, August 25, 2016.

       This final, in-person meeting happened to coincide with the start of Dan's 2016 'Animural' Restoration Project, slated for completion unbeknownst to me by Earth Day April 22, 2017.

That's not an optical illusion you're witnessing. The scaffold is actually leaning toward the mural. Thursday, August 25, 2016. Dan's assistant is Kristi Holohan.

     And as the target date neared, a flurry of flyers went out inviting one and all to come enjoy the day and Dan's art. Wholly unaware of the announcement was I however, no longer residing, as I mentioned, in Oakland.

The official flyer for the Giraffe Murals' Earth Day, April 22, 2017 opening.

 

  Yet, sure enough, as luck would have it, by pure chance alone, I just happened to take these next two photographs two days prior to Earth Day! Once again, I was on my way to my weekly engagement.

Spot the three giraffes in this panoramic view. Thursday, April 20, 2017

My favorite Dan Fontes’ “Giraphics”. Thursday, April 20, 2017

    Dan's murals are many, but in once particular case, I can truthfully state that I had a hand.

    Back to 2003 and Cafe Van Kleef. 

    Peter Van Kleef, the eponymous proprietor, had this large mural, which had already been reworked by a second artist to populate to the tableau with recognizable personalities. Hence the appearance of Jerry Brown (Peter's then neighbor), Pablo Picasso, Gertrude Stein, Vincent van Gogh, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Andy Warhol. When in the fall of that year, the cafe officially got underway and was opened to the public, Dan was invited to add a few more notable celebrities.

Cafe Van Kleef Mural  -  Photo by Douglas Zimmerman/SFGATE 2023-05-11

    First came Frida, followed by James Brown. Dan simply overlaid Frida Kahlo, head and shoulders atop a generic guitarist in the bottom left foreground, taking good advantage of the ready-made forearms and instrument 

    James himself, got slotted in bright lemon-lime, to the right of Jerry, perhaps in an bid to brighten up the latter's dour demeanor. ;-)  Or maybe, like twins, Dan just wanted the two Browns together.

Cafe Van Kleef Mural - Photo by Douglas Zimmerman SFGATE 2023-05-11

 

     Then came the fourteenth Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, third on Dan's list. Dan was almost done with the Dalai when suddenly there was a problem and he stopped. Up to this point, for each of the individuals, Dan had been relying on a photographic referent, but for the Dalai Lama, he needed a twist and lacked a guide.

    That's when Dan turned to me as we were chatting, and asked me if I could literally lend my hand. Sticking a bar glass in it, he then pulled out his Polaroid and once he was satisfied of the pose, snapped a picture. A moment later, with the freshly developed print in hand, Dan once again resumed his painting.

With the help of Google’s machine learning (A.I.) to blur out the surrounding imagery, yep, that’s me in the mural: the fourteenth Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso’s right hand man, er, um, uh… right hand!

    Not that anyone knows or cares - few do - but that's how I ended up literally having a hand in one of Dan's artworks and the story behind my brief stint as his hand model.

    A fourth figure was begun, but did not see completion. Craggy Keith Richards started to take his place at the extreme opposite end of the mural, but Peter and Dan had a falling out. Peter reneged on paying Dan the money he was due, and Keith was left uncompleted as a result.

    Fortunately, Dan and I remained friends. I only learned the reason for the parting much later. From Dan own lips. Sadly, knowing that one side of Peter, his spottiness with regards to monies due, I'm not surprised. Even I went unpaid. Were it not for Peter's wife, Cindy Reeves, who saw to it I eventually got paid everything in full, I would have been out on the streets.  

    But enough with the bummers and the prior puns already. All joking and some regrets aside, having had the honor to be of help to Dan is indeed, a memory I fondly treasure, and it's nice nevertheless to find a part of me unexpectedly immortalized. No big deal to Dan, but I have been more than well-rewarded.

Lake Merritt Mural Project (1988) Dan Fontes

     For all his kindness, his artistry, and decency, I am so saddened by Dan Fontes' sudden departure. I can barely believe it, and cannot even begin to imagine the heartbreak and anguish his long time, loving partner, Julie Lucchesi must be enduring. She was so very dear to him. Indispensable..

    Dan was a pleasure to have known and interact with, and I will miss him.

    To quote the recent remark of an admirer of his: "Rest In Paint".

-    -FIN-