Saturday, March 17, 2012
Rear Yard Carriage House in Sunset Heights, S.F.
We have a renewed Carriage House, that shows well.
The kitchen, living and dining areas are upstairs.
The biggest bedroom used to be the garage part, and on the left, the south, is one, divisible, huge room, that has a divider, so it can function as one or two rooms.
The bathroom is on the grade level, center, rear.
The kitchen, living and dining areas are upstairs.
The biggest bedroom used to be the garage part, and on the left, the south, is one, divisible, huge room, that has a divider, so it can function as one or two rooms.
The bathroom is on the grade level, center, rear.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Join the Inner Sunset Hts. Culture Club mail list.
Friends:
Send us an email, if you want to be on our Mailing List.
Send to : jackbarry99@gmail.com
Send us an email, if you want to be on our Mailing List.
Send to : jackbarry99@gmail.com
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Review of the InnerSunsetHeightsCultureClub guest
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Every time San Franciscan Joshua Mohr finishes a book, he adds a tattoo to his body and tells another part of his personal tale.
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When writer Joshua Mohr needs inspiration, all he has to do is walk out his front door. On any given night in the Mission District, he might find a pop-up Playskool rock band, a chain-saw juggler in Dolores Park or a sidewalk vendor selling bacon-wrapped hot dogs to the drunks after last call.
There's no better muse for Mohr, whose third novel, "Damascus," is set in a Mission dive bar of the same name and peopled with characters sketched from those he encounters on its streets.
"I'm so moved by the artistic bravery here, like this guy who plays a screeching violin," he said. "I don't get it, but still I'm inspired to go home and try harder. So much about being a writer isn't about talent, it's work ethic. What do you do when no one else is watching, you know?"
Mohr stays up while the rest of the world sleeps, hitting his stride after midnight, writing about the dark parts of the human psyche. A former Mission District bartender who wrestled his own problems with alcohol, Mohr, 35, has earned the credentials to write about broken souls.
In "Damascus," the barkeep is an alcoholic who wears a Santa suit daily to hide a birthmark that resembles Hitler's mustache; a divorcee gives hand jobs in the bar bathroom for money; a Mill Valley cancer patient abandons his wife and child to die anonymously in the Mission; and an antiwar performance artist inadvertently starts a political riot when she nails live fish to portraits of dead American soldiers in an exhibition in the bar.
Mohr, whose father died of lung cancer in 2002, thought that enough time had elapsed to tackle a character who, unlike his father, disappeared once he was diagnosed.
"Self-destruction is one of the things that runs through all my books," Mohr said. "I'm definitely attracted to the milieu I grew up in - there was alcoholism in the house, and a lot of chaos. I found a way to keep that chaos going throughout my 20s and early 30s."
Mohr grew up in Phoenix with his mother but moved to San Francisco when he was 17 to live with his father. He earned degrees in history and creative writing at San Francisco State University, and graduated from the University of San Francisco in 2005 with a graduate degree in creative writing.
Some of his characters evolve, some continue to hurt themselves. But their belly flops and triumphs are rendered with an authenticity that gives readers the feeling of reading someone's diary.
At first, publishers said Mohr's work was "too macabre, too grim, too dirty." His New York agent, discouraged, sent Mohr a list of small independent publishing houses and told him to try to get his first book, "Some Things That Meant the World to Me," published on his own.
Two Dollar Radio, a small family-owned publishing house in Columbus, Ohio, took a chance on Mohr's first book.
Then Oprah Winfrey came along. Her magazine named his premiere novel one of the 10 Terrific Reads of 2009, and Mohr's "little art project" became a book with buzz. Orders went from dozens to hundreds.
He followed in 2010 with "Termite Parade," which was selected as an Editor's Choice in the New York Times Book Review.
"Damascus" has received a starred review in Publishers Weekly. And he's still with Two Dollar Radio.
"I always had this theory that whatever I do, I just want to go away and get good at it," he said. "I'm going to write these strange little sordid stories, and if you want to come check them out, you know where to find me."
It's a message he tries to instill in his students at the University of San Francisco, where he teaches creative writing in the master's of fine arts program.
He aims to erase the image of the sad writer, talking about how hard it is to face the blank page and how they don't make enough money or sell enough books.
"If you don't have fun in the process, you'll never write a book. Especially once you graduate out of the incubator of the MFA program and its deadlines, and suddenly nobody cares anymore, and you have these family commitments. What's going to make you do the work?"
A: Whimsy.
Mohr is getting a kick out of his next book, a postmodern fairy tale about a bumbling suburban dad named Bob Coffin, who suffers a head trauma that alters his idea of possibility, leading him on a quest to save his curdling marriage.
Divorced and recently engaged, Mohr is currently fascinated by the topic of love.
In typical fashion, he'll write full bore, with ideas but not an outline, completing roughly 20 drafts before it feels right.
And once it's finished, he'll add another tattoo to his arm, as he's done to celebrate each of his books.
Because as Mohr sees it, our skin is like the walls of a cave - the tableau for our personal stories. And each of us has a book inside.
There's no better muse for Mohr, whose third novel, "Damascus," is set in a Mission dive bar of the same name and peopled with characters sketched from those he encounters on its streets.
"I'm so moved by the artistic bravery here, like this guy who plays a screeching violin," he said. "I don't get it, but still I'm inspired to go home and try harder. So much about being a writer isn't about talent, it's work ethic. What do you do when no one else is watching, you know?"
Mohr stays up while the rest of the world sleeps, hitting his stride after midnight, writing about the dark parts of the human psyche. A former Mission District bartender who wrestled his own problems with alcohol, Mohr, 35, has earned the credentials to write about broken souls.
In "Damascus," the barkeep is an alcoholic who wears a Santa suit daily to hide a birthmark that resembles Hitler's mustache; a divorcee gives hand jobs in the bar bathroom for money; a Mill Valley cancer patient abandons his wife and child to die anonymously in the Mission; and an antiwar performance artist inadvertently starts a political riot when she nails live fish to portraits of dead American soldiers in an exhibition in the bar.
Mohr, whose father died of lung cancer in 2002, thought that enough time had elapsed to tackle a character who, unlike his father, disappeared once he was diagnosed.
"Self-destruction is one of the things that runs through all my books," Mohr said. "I'm definitely attracted to the milieu I grew up in - there was alcoholism in the house, and a lot of chaos. I found a way to keep that chaos going throughout my 20s and early 30s."
Mohr grew up in Phoenix with his mother but moved to San Francisco when he was 17 to live with his father. He earned degrees in history and creative writing at San Francisco State University, and graduated from the University of San Francisco in 2005 with a graduate degree in creative writing.
Some of his characters evolve, some continue to hurt themselves. But their belly flops and triumphs are rendered with an authenticity that gives readers the feeling of reading someone's diary.
At first, publishers said Mohr's work was "too macabre, too grim, too dirty." His New York agent, discouraged, sent Mohr a list of small independent publishing houses and told him to try to get his first book, "Some Things That Meant the World to Me," published on his own.
Two Dollar Radio, a small family-owned publishing house in Columbus, Ohio, took a chance on Mohr's first book.
Then Oprah Winfrey came along. Her magazine named his premiere novel one of the 10 Terrific Reads of 2009, and Mohr's "little art project" became a book with buzz. Orders went from dozens to hundreds.
He followed in 2010 with "Termite Parade," which was selected as an Editor's Choice in the New York Times Book Review.
"Damascus" has received a starred review in Publishers Weekly. And he's still with Two Dollar Radio.
"I always had this theory that whatever I do, I just want to go away and get good at it," he said. "I'm going to write these strange little sordid stories, and if you want to come check them out, you know where to find me."
It's a message he tries to instill in his students at the University of San Francisco, where he teaches creative writing in the master's of fine arts program.
He aims to erase the image of the sad writer, talking about how hard it is to face the blank page and how they don't make enough money or sell enough books.
"If you don't have fun in the process, you'll never write a book. Especially once you graduate out of the incubator of the MFA program and its deadlines, and suddenly nobody cares anymore, and you have these family commitments. What's going to make you do the work?"
A: Whimsy.
Mohr is getting a kick out of his next book, a postmodern fairy tale about a bumbling suburban dad named Bob Coffin, who suffers a head trauma that alters his idea of possibility, leading him on a quest to save his curdling marriage.
Divorced and recently engaged, Mohr is currently fascinated by the topic of love.
In typical fashion, he'll write full bore, with ideas but not an outline, completing roughly 20 drafts before it feels right.
And once it's finished, he'll add another tattoo to his arm, as he's done to celebrate each of his books.
Because as Mohr sees it, our skin is like the walls of a cave - the tableau for our personal stories. And each of us has a book inside.
Joshua Mohr: "Damascus." 7 p.m. Thurs. City Lights Books, 261 Columbus Ave., S.F. (415) 362-8193. 7 p.m. Mon. The Booksmith, 1644 Haight St., S.F. (415) 863-8688. www.joshuamohr.net.
E-mail Meredith May at mmay@sfchronicle.com.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
March Comes In like a Literary Lion! 3 12 2012!!!
Hi there, Culture Club <of the Inner Sunset Heights> followers....
Next week's Culture Club promises to be very interesting.
Our SHARP member, Professor Lowell Pratt, of Menlo College , is "In Conversation", with......
Author Josh Mohr. ...who has had a string of well reviewed books out. His newest is "Damascus", and is about...<what else>..... navigating life in the Mission District of San Francisco....
The Wall Street Journal and the NY Times have praised it, highly... Google the phrase "Damascus by Josh Mohr"..... and see what you think... Read some of the
many reviews...
Our doors, at the SHARP Meetingroom, 1736 9th Avenue, open at 6.40pm, and the Conversation starts at 7pm.....
Our seating capacity is 45, so you might want to come early...
Questions? : jackbarry99@gmail.com
Next week's Culture Club promises to be very interesting.
Our SHARP member, Professor Lowell Pratt, of Menlo College , is "In Conversation", with......
Author Josh Mohr. ...who has had a string of well reviewed books out. His newest is "Damascus", and is about...<what else>..... navigating life in the Mission District of San Francisco....
The Wall Street Journal and the NY Times have praised it, highly... Google the phrase "Damascus by Josh Mohr"..... and see what you think... Read some of the
many reviews...
Our doors, at the SHARP Meetingroom, 1736 9th Avenue, open at 6.40pm, and the Conversation starts at 7pm.....
Our seating capacity is 45, so you might want to come early...
Questions? : jackbarry99@gmail.com
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Buying the Body of Christ Killing the Buddha
Buying the Body of Christ Killing the Buddha
Turns out that lapsed Catholics can test the depth of their hunger for...... communion.!..
Bow your head with great respect!.
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