Rocking and Rolling
Another weekend, another protest march. On Sunday morning, Dog Bites wasn't necessarily feeling too enthusiastic about being vertical, let alone walking more than a few blocks. Still, we'd heard Artists for Earthquakes was going to be making a showing at the Million Band March, and that was enough to make us reach for our contact lenses.
Artists for Earthquakes, a newly formed organization, is -- well, here's what the group's Web site (www.artistsforearthquakes.org) has to say: "Artists For Earthquakes is an activist group concerned with issues of sustaining livability and arts culture in San Francisco. We seek a solution to this city's housing and arts crises by promoting a "quake-positive' agenda including social activism and seismic instigation."
Seismic instigation? We figured the Artists for Earthquakes members would be easy to find at the demonstration, since they'd been trying to organize a contingent of marchers with low-frequency-generating equipment, but we figured wrong. Instead, we kept running into this one guy wearing a papier-mâché pumpkin head, who was carrying a sign that read, "Willie is a Gourd -- Squash Prop. K."
At Civic Center Plaza, the concert got off to a great start with a performance by Felonious, but dragged for a while after that with an especially earnest folkie. We were waiting in line for a slice of pizza when Tim, a drummer, struck up a conversation. He said he'd had a practice space at Downtown Rehearsal, and that he was worried the city was becoming even "sleepier" than it used to be. "I don't want to see San Francisco turned into some kind of bedroom community, like Walnut Creek," he said.
Dog Bites circled the plaza again, but still couldn't find the Artists for Earthquakes. A woman was hawking T-shirts reading, "Missing: San Francisco musicians and artists." We asked her how they were selling. "They're going," she answered.
"You've only sold one," said a sunglassed guy, whose own T-shirt bore the logo "Ian Brennan Cheapskate."
The crowd continued to swell; we chatted with a woman named Karen, who said, "It reminds me of the old San Francisco, the San Francisco I miss."
Still no earthquake-promoting artists, though; we found a seat as Zen Guerrilla took the stage -- and we mean took the stage. After the group's first song, the middle-aged guy we were sitting beside turned to us. "Yeah," he said, which summed it up.
Finally we spotted the Artists for Earthquakes -- Mike Kupietz and his contingent of three supporters, carrying signs that read, "Shake That Booty: The Big One Is Coming," "Shake Down High Rents! Lower Rent Through Seismic Instigation," backed with, "Willie Brown Won't Listen to Us, Maybe He'll Listen to the Hayward Fault," "Let's Go 10.0," and "Let's Get Ready to Rumble."
When we expressed disappointment that the creatively bearded Kupietz hadn't been able to round up any low-pitched musical instruments, he said he wasn't worried, and that his group was planning further tremor-friendly actions in the near future. "We're going to be distributing earthquake instigation kits," he told us.
Which would consist of ...? "Oh, small mallets, tap shoes," he answered. "And we're asking people to play dominoes and throw dice -- every little bit helps."
South of 280
We did say we thought South of 280 was going to be the next hip neighborhood, didn't we? So we guess we shouldn't have been surprised when self-described "rich landlord" Shaun Supanich called to offer us a unit in a building he's just bought near Geneva on Mission. First, the particulars: The one-bedroom apartment is about 750 square feet -- bigger than Dog Bites' place! -- with oak floors Supanich said he'll be refinishing this week. It has a good-sized gray and pink 1950s-style tile bathroom with a new toilet and sink, and a large kitchen with lots of cabinets, a new stove, and a new refrigerator. The unit, which features views of the Bay Bridge, Upper Market, and downtown, has a private garage and -- get this -- is only $1250 a month.
"I really think you're right. I really think this is the up-and-coming neighborhood out here," said Supanich, who described the area as relatively quiet, racially mixed, and well-served by mass transit. "I bought the building so my girlfriend can have a dog," he added. "I'm building a dog run out [in the back yard]."
Dog Bites, observing that Supanich must be a nice boyfriend, then erred by asking if they'd been dating long. "Off and on for three years," he said. "We've broken up a dozen times, but we keep getting back together, so go figure." Then why do they break up? "I'm commitment-phobic," he answered. "You can't find a good guy over 24 who's not."
Or a good woman, either, we considered retorting, but asked instead about the building's general dog policy. "Actually, my girlfriend doesn't have a dog right now. It died," Supanich told us. "She left her dog with me for a week, and it got into some rat poison and died three days after she picked it up. Now she wants the dog stuffed, and that's costing me over three grand. It's not cheap to get a dog stuffed."
