If I could be a total cliche guy, today I would spend about six hours watching football, and drinking Guinness and or scooping guacamole (mole de aguacate) with Casa Sanchez corn chips. There’s also room for about an hour or so of staring at the chicken scratches in one of my 12 active notebooks, the spiral kind, as opposed to the purloined commandeered high techy kind that my girlfriend has, this thing I am hunched over in this very 9:31 Sundayem moment, I mean in one of the six coffee houses I haunt, sipping too fattening milk-caffeine concoctions.

There will be very little straightening of the mounds of papers and books, many in various reusable bags, in my apartment that I use not unlike the way Clark Kent uses a phonebooth, to change (alas, I mainly stay the same; as my neighbor the dear departed Lucy Slater used to warn me, once, don’t get set in my ways).

Yesterday, Terry Acebo Davis and I visited The City and saw some Jasper Johns and Jay Defeos, at SFMOMA, She dropped some change at her favorite girlie store (whose name I refuse to recall) on South Park, while I circled looking for a place to dump my white 4-cylinder Chevy. I parked very near a hot dog stand called Yo Dog or something, and put off my starvation for a few more hours. As I wandered past Gallery 16, there was someone doing a photo shoot, but not Martin McMurray, whose work we liked, especially the trailer set. I almost asked the clerk therein at Gallery 16, as we retreated back towards the museum and away from her shopping, if I still owed on the Sonny Smith box set I bought last Holiday Season, for myself (although I was with Steve Cohen, or his brother Eric).
This a.m. I just watched this video about Sonny Berger I mean Sonny Smith (not Barger) and his art and music set — I think what I bought is derivative of that. I am a little unclear on what it is I bought, music and artwise. Something numbered, came in a box, paid or am paying in installments.

I first heard of Sonny from Hilda Mendez of Down Home, a whiles back but don’t think I have every scouted him. Maybe I called him once just to bug him, or check his avails, if Hilda put his then-number on a little scrap of paper – I have quite a collection of people’s numbers on scraps of paper.

Anyhow this video paints him as some kind of a genius.

edit to add, seconds later: checking my spelling of the Spanish word, gratuitous though it may be, for avocado, I find that aguacate has a Nahuatl   root āhuacatl [aː’wakat͡ɬ] ( meaning testicle, a reference to the shape of …) If I was a better person I would be studying John Paige’s book on Nahuatl today and not merely eating chips and dip.

aha: I have found my purpose, in this post perhaps in life itself, that brief candle: I will make it a project to straighten my room, my stacks and shelves of books, my papers, clippings, little scraps of paper pregnant with meaning, while listening to and understanding and internalizing the genius of said Sonny Smith and his multiple music personalities — his will be the background music of my Herculean labor of getting, as Travis Bickle would  say organizeded, excuse the mixed metamythics.

Speaking of Down Home, I enjoyed talking to Les Blank the other day about Anand Patwardhan’s film about Indian music. (Les Blank “Always for  Pleasure” “The Blues Accordin’ to Lightning Hopkins” shares an office with Chris Strachwitz of Arhoolie Records above Down Home, on San Pablo in El Cerritto, a mecca of sorts for some sorts like me). I enjoyed telling Les Blank again that in 1988 I rang him to buy a copy of “Werner Herzog Eats his Shoe” to encourage my friend Brian Moore to drop out of Harvard’s Kennedy School — which was making him sick, literally — and pursue his passion of filmmaking, or someday becoming a blogger who writes about neuropathology.

ediot to addle: “soma” used in my head means not only “south of market” where Terry and I were wandering but also in Huxley “Brave New World” a quite impenetrable wall between the actual universe and their minds

edita3: checking “What’s Up Dog” chain in SF, I internalized, reminded me that for years, until I pay-per-viewed it the other day, I was going “what’s up buzz tell me what’s a happening” in my head and not, more properly, and less “total cliche guy” per above “what’s the buzz, tell me what’s a happening”.