this too is San Francisco

This evening I found myself at an open mic night (sans mic) and I was quite reminded that there's a whole other population to SF. Most often I think of San Francisco in terms of race/ethnicity and language. I love that when going out to eat the question isn't necessarily where but, "Italian? Ethiopian? Thai? Vietnamese?" I love that on the street you can easily catch conversations in at least 3 different languages, if not 4 or 5. I also love that on a bus you may be surrounded by at least 6 different ethnicities at one. However, I tend to forget that there are pockets of culture that form out of a passion for...whatever. If you know anything about SF or heard anything about it, it probably includes words such as: liberal, summer of love, Haight & Ashbury, diverse, crazy, etc., etc., etc. Tonight was all that and more.

For some reason when I heard "open mic" and that a friend of a friend was singing I pictured a single mic on a stand with a lone stool sitting in a spotlight. The audience enveloped in the darkness, clustered around circular tables for two listening to a few stammering choruses sung to uncertain guitar chords. Yeah.... First off I should have known better than that when I heard it was to be at Coffee For the People just off of Haight & Ashbury. Secondly, Jen, it's the Haight. You've lived in SF for over 3 years, so you ought to know that when you go the Haight you will inevitably encounter 70 year old men reading poetry about love affairs, young girls trying to assert themselves, and people who generally think of the world in terms of free love and world peace. Oh and let's not forget the number of absolute characters! They abound on Haight St.

Tonight was all about Diamond Dave. He's 73 and parties with the heartiest of 'em. I honestly don't know how to describe him. He was a bit scruffy, had an old plaid flannel, and a multi-colored beanie. He talked with with a lilt, as though about to do some poetry slamming but not really able to grasp the full rhythm of it. Between each piece he had a little running commentary and throughout a piece he'd move his hand in a rolling motion that sort of looked like he wanted to do some hiphop action, but not quite getting it. To him, everyone was a brother or sister.

Then there was Lotus. A woman in about her 60s, white hair, on the shorter side, flowered pants, a flowered colored shirt under a red t-shirt. Man, that woman could belt out a song. She started the night off by singing about the "Cannibis Revolution." Then she sang one acapella about unity... or was that Marie Mango? Now she was in her 30s and obsessed with the idea of free love, unity and all the philosphy preached at H&A during that summer of love long ago. Pretty decent song writer though. Then there was the guy that wrote a conspiracy theory manifesto, the girl next to him who wrote the most random poetry that sounded like it ought to be something but was completely empty (she thought the manifesto was great), and there was the old man who's head looked too small for his clothes. He wrote about his ex-wife who was the love of his life (it might sound sweet, but was a little off-color). I could go on but it's getting late and I've got to get to bed.

Suffice it to say that it was an experience and I really ought to remember that once you've been to one poetry reading/open mic night in the Haight you've been to them all. Really. Trust me in this. You will always have three 70 year old men to read poems that would make a younger man blush. You'll have the girl who's queer/lesbian and then her friend who taught her to write poetry. There's no end to the number of hippies and intense beards present. And naturally no scene is complete without one or two 62 year old women who think all the poetry is deep and can't quite catch a rhythm. Yup, that's the Haight and that's it's own little pocket of culture.

P.S. I did quite enjoy the performances of my friend's friends.