Photo Post - My 'Hood

There are many fine places to live in the world. The area of San Diego where I live is not one of them. Today I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and take some photos. This is what I came up with.

This is an artistic mural on the side of 'The Other Side', a coffeehouse a couple blocks away. While I think it's a nice mural, I don't know why they painted a picture of the trolley because the trolley doesn't even run in North Park. They should have painted a picture of a big bus getting in the way of drivers and billowing out a big puff of carbon monoxide. They should have added a few bums, too. That would make it more realistic.

The worlds finest drinking establishment for the world's finest people, The Slip Inn. A virtual rats nest of humans, thriving at all hours of the day and most of the night. I've seen people standing outside as early as 7am. The area in front of the bar is always abuzz with hardened alcoholics standing outside smoking. I think the requirement for entry is that you have to be missing at least two or more teeth. There was a wrinkled old biddy standing outside smoking, but I managed to take the photo without her in it.

The central hub of activity in my neighborhood: where 30th Street meets University.

No shit, this is two old women holding hands. One of them looks about as old as my grandma.

This is the gayest restaurant I've ever been in: the Lumberjack Grille. I went in there about a month ago, thinking it had some sort of western theme. Well, to be honest, I was sort of tricked. Usually my gaydar is pretty keen, but this one slipped through. I was hungry, so I went inside. Once you walk into a mostly empty restaurant, everyone notices you, so I couldn't leave. The first thing I noticed was the very country setting: saws hanging on the wall and pictures of things very lumberjack-like. Within a couple of minutes I figured out what it was. It was a restaurant for older folks, mostly old gay men. Once I heard the waiter talk, I was suspicious. Then the table next to me confirmed my suspicions. Two old men and an even older woman sat down. The woman was one man's mother, and the men were talking very effeminately and smiling at each other. They ordered a bottle of wine and chatted while waiting for their food. Isn't that special. Of course, everyone in the joint knows each other, so my waiter spent most of his time talking to the daily customers. Ugh. Well, the food was good, but I won't be going back there. This is how gay it is: gay, gay, and goddamn this is the gayest. Now that is gay. How could I not have known?

For those of us that can't find our way, there is always help.

Our neighborhood sign.

A photo of the rear of the defunct North Park Theater.

A photo from the front of the North Park Theater.

Claire de Lunes, a coffeehouse that is by far one of the cleanest places in North Park.

Some new artsy fartsy restaurant, Spread.

One of the many corner liquor markets.

The crowning achievement of my adventure. Since I didn't get a picture of a bum (although I seen a few), I got a photo of either a very tired Hispanic lady or a recently homeless Hispanic lady taking a nap.

The alley behind my house.