Pixel Vision

Legendary! Photos of Leola King's Blue Mirror

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Below are additional photos from the paper version of our story on 84-year-old Leola King who owned a string of popular businesses in the Fillmore District before they each succumbed to a nationwide urban redevelopment push that began in the 1940s. Read more »

SCENE: Nightlife during wartime

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SCENE: Nightlife During Wartime

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Last Wednesday we unleashed the first issue of our new quarterly glossy supplement SCENE: The Guardian Guide to Nightlife and Glamour to thunderous approval and only a few (disappointing) howls of protest. I want more protest dammit! Where's freakin' Fox News when you want 'em! My nails are too long to dial the right-wing media up. Read more »

Extra Virgin Spring

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40-Year-Old Virgin:

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55-Year-Old Money-Guru Lesbian Virgin:

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Big new pianist

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I know this should technically go in the Noise blog, but I didn't want it to get lost in our upcoming blizzard of SXSW coverage, so here goes .... Read more »

Nuts to laundry!

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Divine intern Sam Devine gets soapy:

Laundry day will be different today. I’m using a new hippy product from Santa Cruz to clean my clothes: Soap Nuts, the soap that grows on trees.

Soap grows on trees?

Yeah, turns out Soap Nuts are the dried fruit of the Chinese Soapberry tree. Read more »

Jean Baudrillard is not dead.

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Ah, the ecstacy of pomo French theorizing: it feels like sandpaper, tastes like mint, and never leaves the cold bathroom. Sometimes it's a bloody butterfly. Other times it's a tongue on vinyl. And always the future conditional pluperfect leotard. Ce ca?

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And yet, the gulf may exist.

Fuck Baudrillard. Fuck Foucault. Read more »

Smells like art

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I knew I was in the right place. I could smell it before I even got in the building. The brazenly pungent aroma emanated out the glass doors, down the yellow walls of the entrance corridor, and out into the San Francisco Art Institute’s scenic courtyard.

It was a smell both foreign and familiar. Read more »

A party pooper's thoughts on 'Inland Empire'

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by Jason Shamai

Sitting in the theater the other night, it was with both great relief and great sadness that I realized I felt zero obligation to work out what was going on in David Lynch's Inland Empire. The movie practically dares you to be stupid enough to try, so I didn't. At first all I felt was the relief -- what a pleasure to let the movie's New Orleans funeral procession of words, sounds, images, and performances roll along without having to ask the left side of my brain to do anything. Read more »

You really need to go

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Fried chicken, hot boys, and DJ Derek B. Oh, and that Oscar thingie.

PS -- you MUST check out Juanita's New Pornographers vid