I stumbled on this startling reincarnation of the Jack in the Box on 7th Street the other day. Or maybe it was a Carl’s Jr. I used to go in there in the middle of the night walking home from the clubs. If I hadn’t spent all my money and could scrounge up $2 , I would buy a fish sandwich. It was probably all I had to eat for the day.
I originally thought someone had done a great top to bottom on this corner. After a few seconds I realized it was way to thought out and precise for that. No way kids with a couple of spray cans running from the cops could come up with this.
30 years ago that would have been the only way something like this would have happened. Today any Fortune 500 company would underwrite it. Considering it lacked the spontaneous/illicit element made me like it less.
The tech industry is leading the revival of this mid-Market area so it was probably part of the campaign to make them feel welcome. Part of the techies’ conspicuously conscious crusade to be un-corporate cool. They really do try too hard sometimes.
After much deliberation I went back to my original impression. I liked it. The Carl Jack looked great in the context of its surroundings. I should just leave it at that and stop over-thinking things. (But then what would I blog about?)
Divine once said there are two kinds of people in this world, my kind and assholes. I would never, ever correct her but when it comes to the youth in the City I think there are three kinds: techies, trust-funders and bohemians. I prefer the latter. Like the ones at my corner coffee shop.
I’ve had to adjust to hearing someone 40 years younger than me call me “buddy,” but these kids are kind and genuinely cool. And a lot of them are art students. They might have worked on that mural.
I don’t know them well even though I see them daily. I am always wondering what their lives are like: their favorite drugs, how many roommates they’re crammed into a flat with, if they have enough money for a fish sandwich.
It’s just nice to see that spirit is still alive.
Next: What’s the Date? 1968
Previous: Life on Dirty, Filthy Nob Hill
The complete saga, From the Beginning