Growing up, and moving on.

Today is the day!  My very first period! Also, im moving to Wordpress, because thats what adults use. 

Since I lack originality, the url is

Come read my shit there, so I can track you! Mwahahah!

This is my short, and shittyface movie from the Indian Summer Party.  It’s a rundown of my three favorite events. And no, it’s not great quality, and I took all of 7 minutes to “edit” it, but I know those homos from the Oscars are going to call me any minute now…im waiting…

The Glen E. Friedman opening at 941 Geary, checking up on Contraband Coffee, and making the first ‘I Know Alyssa Jones’ tshirt (because thats just what every photographer needs, tshirts).

To be honest, I had never heard of Glen Friedman until yesterday.  Maybe its because I never went to photography school, or college, or whatever.  I don’t know.  I have heard of Glenn Close though, and I’m sure they’re related. (my good friend Jake has been planning a Glenn Close-athon movie night for about a year now, ill let you all know when the dates are set in stone).  Even though we didn’t know the guy, my girlfriend and I went to the opening anyway.  I was actually pretty excited to see the inside of 941 Geary, it’s one of the ‘more newer’ galleries in the TL, and the outside still looks like a smog shop.  So here are some of the photos:

I’m sorry, but Iced T looks like a raging homosexual in photo.  I know it was the 80’s, but still. All I can see is, “Whats up, I’m Iced T, I like dick in, and around my mouth.”

In the past few weeks i’ve been really workng on my pano’s, and to my suprise, they still look like shit. YAY!

My girlfriend and I walked around for a good hour and a half, looked at each photo twice, and did a good amount of people watching.  The opening was mostly Tony Hawk-ish guys in their 40’s and they’re hotter/younger blonde girlfriends. 

We left the opening and headed back to our apartment, but not before stopping to stalk Contraband Coffee. The gentlemen outside told us that they would be opening within a few weeks, they’re website hints at the week of the 8th, but who knows.  I also thought Contraband was a small chain, it’s not.  So here are some pictures that I took through the window, like a creepy child molesting stalker. 

Exciting, huh? 

For my birthday, my amazing friend Luke gave me two ‘I Know Alyssa Jones’ stencils. (Just what I need, the ability to neatly spray paint my name all over San Francisco.) So for the past week I’ve been designing (hahaha, designing..whew) tshirts in my pea brain.  And by designing, I mean thinking about what color shirts/fabric paint I want to buy. I went with olive and yellow ochre. Cliffs was out of black. 

This shit was harder than I thought it would be.  And I also managed to get yellow on the neck part of the shirt, super classy and professional. I did, however, keep the paint from getting on my shmancy Levi’s. 

What am I going to with these shirts, you ask? I don’t have a fucking clue.  Im giving the first batch to my friends, by batch I mean ‘6’, and by friends I mean my coworkers at Peet’s. 

Julie Michelle and the I Live Here: SF Retrospective: Three cheers for not owning a camera until 2008!

I had just returned from a month long-cross country road trip with my girlfriend when I stumbled upon Julie’s iliveheresf website. (I had three days off to kill and I fully planned on spending them glued to my Mac, reading photo blogs, and absorbing as much inspiration as humanly possible.) I remember scrolling through the posts, turning to my girlfriend and yelling, “why the fuck didn’t I think of this?!”  I spent the next hour reading the stories and watching the slide shows.  All the stories were surprisingly, and I never use this word, touching….and I think that’s about the moment I found the PARTICIPATE button. Normally, when the opportunity to participate in some sort of art/photo project, usually via Craigslist, arises I get really excited..and then too nervous to actually follow through.  I consider myself a fairly outgoing and friendly person, but there is something about meeting someone off the Internet, that scares the shit out of me.  It’s not like I think they’re going to murder me, or anything like that, I’m just more afraid of that first, really awkward, five minutes…because it usually goes like this:

Me: Hi I’m Alyssa, nice to meet you.

Other awkward human: Hi Melissa, its nice to meet you too.

Me: No, it’s Alyssa Milano.

Other awkward human: Oh, is it A-L-Y or A-L-I

Me: It’s A-L-Y

Other awkward human: Oh! My friend’s uncle’s brother’s nextdoor neighbor’s, three doors down’s daughter’s best friend is named Alyssa, with the A-L-Y.

Me: Great.

And that’s usually the point in the conversation where I make a joke, it fails, and I run away crying, calling my mommy from my Walgreens flip phone.  

Anyway, I pushed my anxiety aside and decided that I need to man the fuck up, so I emailed Julie.  I told her a little bit about myself, that I was also a photographer, and that I did porn photography (I like to throw that in sometimes because it sounds cool, it’s true of course, but it sounds way cooler than it actually is).  About five minutes went by and then I got Julie’s reply.  Super fast.  She asked me to write my story, and since one of my favorite things to do is talk about myself, it didn’t take me long before it was spell checked, and flying through the interweb, and into Julie’s inbox. (You can read my iliveheresf story, if you haven’t Another 5 minutes passed, a few more emails were exchanged, and the date was set.

In case you thought otherwise, dykes take just as long, if not longer, to get ready as more feminine girls do. I have to do things like; make sure my lesbian sideburns are perfectly straight, fluff my faux hawk, pick out my favorite sports bra, put on enough makeup to make a difference, but not enough to make it noticeable.  Believe me, it’s tough. And once I’m finally dressed I have to run my outfit by my girlfriend AND my straight best friend/roommate.  Two opinions are crucial. Anyhow, the morning of my shoot was a typical morning for me until I had to choose my outfit.  Half of me wanted to wear something really obnoxious (I have this really decorated military school jacket-thing I got at a thrift store when I was 18, which I’ve never worn in public), but the other half was worried about coming across, in photos, as an ULTRA DOUCHY HIPSTER DYKE, (ya know..versus the only slightly douchy hipster dyke I really am).  So after a lot of thought, and advice from the girlfriend, I went with my SF 49ers sweatshirt, regular ass-pants, and my wingtips.  Stylish, but subtle. As I was winking at myself in the mirror, my phone went off, it was Julie.

I wasn’t sure what to expect as I walked down the stairs to let Julie into my apt building.  Was she going to be a 19 year old mission dwelling hipster?  Would she be easily offended by my “sense of humor”?  I was pleasantly surprised when she turned out to be neither. 

We walked through my closet sized apartment, which was a disgusting mess, up to my roof, down to this park (I can never remember the god damn name), and pretty much all around Lower Nob Hill.  During our shoot, I learned that Julie and I had a lot in common, she even laughed at a few of my jokes, which were probably horrible because I get nervous in front of new people.  After my shoot was over, I walked up the hill, back up to my apartment, inspired and excited. 

As the months went by, I still followed the iliveheresf project religiously. (It’s through iliveheresf that I learned about Tenderblog, MissionMission, Caliber, and CoffeePencilKnife.  Now I follow so many god damn blogs, I have no time to work on my own.) Here are some of my favorite iliveheresf stories, in case you were wondering:



-Michelle Tea


On another side note, I saw Stuart a few times during the show but I was too shy to talk to him. He looked dashing in his mismatched dressysuitness, too cute. 

But I digress (i’ve always wanted to write that..), as the opening reception date got closer I, along with a million others im sure, offered to help Julie with the setup at SOMArts. I had a really fun time pinning stuff, climbing up and down the ladder, and attempting to organize the wall of smaller portraits with @Tenderblog (yeah, I wrote that in twitter language..go on and hate)  I even got to talk a little bit with Chris Rusak, one of the collaborating artists for iliveheresf.  The best part of setting up? (besides wearing the tool belt) Watching Justin Hoover, the SOMArts curator and gallery director, drive a FUCKING MUNI SHELTER into the gallery.  Yeah, you read that shit right.  

I was SUPER FUCKING EXCITED to see how everything was going to be setup the night of the show, and I was definitely not disappointed.  I wish I had taken more pictures, but I was too busy trying to be a social butterfly and doing a shitty job of trying to recognize all the others who participated in the project. 

And of course, this is a picture of me, with a picture of me. 

So, to make a long blog short, GO SEE THE SHOW. It’s at SOMArts until 11/30. Seriously. Go. Now. I’ll even go with you if you want. 

Id like to take a moment (Im doing that thing where you take your hat off, put your head down, and close your eyes..kind of like praying, but dont pray..) to thank Julie for letting me be a part of this AMAZING project.  You have been a huge inspiration to me and I am so excited to see where this crazy photographyness takes you!  I know we’ll keep in touch, because I wont give you any other choice, and now you can never leave San Francisco. 

….Okay im done, GO SEE THE SHOW!

I have no idea what the fuck ‘fear the beard’ means.

Giants madness. 

Let me first say that I AM NOT A BASEBALL FAN.  This means that 1) I didn’t watch any of the games 2)I didn’t go out and buy a Giants jersey/flag/hat..whatever..3)I have no idea what the fuck ‘fear the beard’ means.  Yes, I am a sourpuss/debbie downer, I understand…I had no intention of leaving my cozy neighborhood tonight, mostly because I didn’t want to get hit by a car because the driver was too busy hanging out the window yelling and high-fiving everyone, BUT I was forced, kicking and screaming(not really..)down to Market Street(thanks Shane).  Anyhow, it’s 1am, and I just went through a shit ton of pictures, and here are my favorite two.  Im aware that the second pano is garbage, but since it took me a whole 8 minutes to edit/put it together im posting it anway. Goodnight all you crazy fuckers!

Some shots (for some reason I typed “shits” the first time) from a downtown walk a few nights ago.

So back when I was doing my internship, probably due to the lack of a better idea, one of my bosses insisted I did a series of the Jones St. signs…starting in the Marina and going all the way down to Market. I was hesitant about doing the series sounded sort of lame, BUT I did it anyway, becasue I had nothing better to do..and to my was still pretty lame.  That being said, here are the lame photos from the “series”:

On a side note, these were all shot with a Holga, and if I can remember correctly I used three different types of film: Ilford HP5, Fuji Velvia, and Kodak Ektachrome.

The Tenderloin…now in new spicy nacho and buttjuiceglove flavor!

Lately, I have been so busy slangin’ coffee, watching all the seasons of 30 Rock on Netflix, and saving the world, that I haven’t had much time to photograph.  So today, instead of masturbating furiously to free porn(thanks!), I decided to take my short gay ass down to the Tenderloin for a photography adventure. Here be the fruit of my the loin(OH SNAP!):

I sort of zig zagged through the entire loin, starting on Bush..making my way to Powell.  I made my first stop at 824 Hyde. 

I was at work the morning this happened(I work on Bush st), and about 13 firetrucks/ambulances flew by.  About an hour or so later a customer insisted on showing my coworker and I the 3 pictures he had taken of the fire, on his shitty little digital camera…so we didn’t feel left out of the action. 


As I made my way through the TL, I couldn’t help but notice that some of the homeless folks had bigger houses than I did.  I was jealous. 

Take a look at this modest 3br….

Or, feast your eyes on this furnished…piece of furniture…better fucking headboard than I have. 

Here are two humble haciendas…a comfy bed complete with a breathtaking city view..

Too much fancy-shmancyness for ya?  Well the fuck can be like this dude..

In addition to the beautiful homes downtown, there is also some really..unique tagging..that makes zero fucking sense. 

Are we trying to be racist?  Is this face eating a pizza? What the fuck is going on here?

Wait..Blade? NOT LIKE THE MOVIE STUPID! Oh, you mean BLADE, the one who walks with me! I totally get it!

Okay so I know what an AK-47 is, and I know what crime is, and im assuming that by ‘phunky’ they’re being clever..and really mean ‘funky’..but what the fuck is ‘deliquint’..I dont get it..

On a side note: the Tenderloin is a little bit bossy..

…telling me to be quiet..

..telling me HOW to open a door…

..tellin me to close the door ‘plz’…(Look honey!!! It took me all day to write the letters on this fancy sign I made for the door, It took me so long that when I got to the word ‘please’ I just went with ‘plz’)

A classic…

Excuse me, tenderloin, I will get cash wherever I dam well please..and by the way, who’s yelling?

..not me, because apparently, there is NO LOUD TALKING allowed around here. 

The TL is so busy making bossy signs that it forgot to REFILL THE FUCKING CANDY MACHINE..

..I know, it made me sad too. 

I walked by the Minx and saw this sign..

..Im glad that the Minx Staff’s eyes aren’t everywhere, because that’s creepy. Also, only a FEW thefts? No big deal…

I always forget that there are multiple parks in the loin.  It makes sense because there are a shit ton of families living in this area, it just never crosses my mind. Maybe because im not 8, or maybe because im not a child molester. If you ARE a child molester, check out this sweet spot, perfect for viewing the kiddies playing..

Speaking of kickin back, and people watchin, I passed by this dude..just standing around by his sweet ride..


I dont really have anything clever to say about these two images, they just look funny..lazy fucking furniture…

I’ve walked past this store tons of times, but i’ve never gone in…

..mostly becasue this sign scares me..

There are alot of stores like this in the loin, where from the outside it just looks like a bunch of shit jammed in a tiny room. They scare me, so I do not enter. I am small, and I get lost easily. Its dangerous. 

I was in the zone..THE ZONE…when some guy yelled at me.  I didnt think anything of it until HE WOULDNT STOP, so I turned around..he only wanted me to take his I did. 

Before I moved here I was walking around Polk when a homeless man asked me to take his picture, and I did.  I started to walk away and he yelled, “now let me take YOURS”.  Oh sure, take my camera..

…Now that I live in San Francisco, I feel like I forget all about the holidays.  I dont see 42 pumpkin patches/xmas tree lots on my drive to and from work, so I forget that ‘its that time of the year’.  So here are two pumpkin pictures…happy halloween!

I kind of laughed when I walked by this stand and saw ‘pie pumpkin’. “Hahaha, stupids, PIE pumpkin..”..Then I walked by a different stand, an hour later, and they had the same type of pumpkin and the sign said ‘pie pumpkin’.  I don’t know what the difference between a pie pumpkin and a regular pumpkin is..but apparently there is one.  Looks like im the douche. 

Something gross happened here…

…Ugh I hate Doritos. 

One of the things I miss about the suburbs are the amazing thrift stores.  Now, I know what your thinking, “what the fuck are you talking about…SF has alot of great thrift stores”…no douchebaggie, your wrong.  SF does have thrift stores, they just suck ass.  Why?  Because in the suburbs there are only a handfull of hip-artsy kids, SF, on the other hand, is chock full of those fuckers.  It’s WAY easier to find thrift store gems in the ‘burbs because there isnt 2,000 other hipsters looking for that one record..or that one polaroid camera..All the good shit is gone at most of the thrift stores in the city….that being said, today, I stumbled upon this fantstic place…

This place is on Turk..and the goods there are cheap, really cheap.  I got myself a pair of converse for 5$ well as a 3$ cardigan.  Not too shabby.  And the staff, which I assume were volunteers, actually said hello to me when I walked in. Epic. 

..and after hours trolling around the loin, I finally made my way up Polk, back to the comforts of my closet-sized apartment.  I was stopped in my tracks by this..

If you cant read the is a closer look..

Yes, foote..and that appears to be a hoof? Did this stuff belong to Mr. Tumnus? 

….I decided to have a peek inside one of the drawers..

POOP!  There was POOP inside the drawer. What…the….fuck. 

..I have to say..that was a marvelous and very loin-y way to end my photo adventure. 

And the moral of the story is: Just when you think your bored of SF, just when you think you’ve seen all there is to see in this wonderful city, BAM! theres a FOOTE dresser set with POOP in the top drawer. 

The End. 

Repaid in Blood

I recently had the privilege to photograph South Bay metal band; Repaid in Blood.  It was pretty much a fucking blast.  I dragged these poor guys under transient infested overpasses, onto active railroad tracks, and had them walkin’ on broken glass(Annie Lennox shout out).  After the shoot, we all had milkshakes and took an AIDS test…

I considered writing a few paragraphs on the history of the band and it’s members, trials and tribulations of the bay area metal scene… BUT, instead, at the bottom of the page, there is a link to their myspace.  What good is learning about them without hearing their music? So check em out, bitches.  Here be my favorite photographs:



Music Video :

Gettin’ my cherry popped with a tendernob at Farm Table.

So today was my FIRST, yes first, time at Farm Table.  And for some reason, I felt the need to bring my camera along, photograph my food, and then come home and blog about it.  

I wish I had written down the menu so I could at least say what I enjoyed eating.  I will say one thing though…Farm Table is delicious and NOT RIDICILIOUSLY EXPENSIVE.  I though it would be, for some reason. 

My roomie and I both got toast, hers came with fruit, mine came with eggs.  I love eggs. From my head down to my legs. And let me just say, it was fucking delicious.  I wish I was classy enough to know how I was supposed to eat it…but eh..I managed. 

I had already had coffee, but I couldn’t resist getting the “tendernob”.  Not only was it friggin’ adorable, it was tasty.  Also, it had a heart…my latte art is crap, so I was impressed. 

If you want to visit the lover-ly Farm Table it is located in the good ol’ TL..on Post between Leavenworth and Jones..and after, go treat yourself to a salted carmel..or caramel..whatever.. at Hookers Sweet Treats on Hyde!