Man of the Mission
The Mission District (Spanish: Distrito de la Misión),[4] commonly known as the Mission (Spanish: La Misión),[5] is a neighborhood in San Francisco, California. One of the oldest neighborhoods in San Francisco, the Mission District's name is derived from Mission San Francisco de Asís, built in 1776 by the Spanish.[6] The Mission is historically one of the most notable centers of the city's Chicano/Mexican-American community.
The Freestylin’ J.Dubs
(press play to listen to this with sound design)
“The best agenda is no agenda.”
—Book of J.dubs, adopted from some monk who didn’t realize how freewheeling a single man in the city could be.
I walk out of the house (Sunday 5/26). It’s Carnival, feather boas and big booties are everywhere. The Mission is alive with a celebration of all things Latino.
I have a strategy for Home-Town-Hero-Run-Ins. Wander until you see someone you know, then join whatever they're doing. I run into Du, my neighbor, at the house I am sitting in Bernal Heights. She's got all sorts of plans for the day, and now I'm adopted into the schedule. We see her housemate, Daniel, on a float, manning a puppet for the Mission Cultural Center. He throws me some beads. My neighbor is now a celebrity. Du and I go to a brunch on the 19th, that’s Persian-themed with a truly international mix of people—Turkish, Mexican, Columbian, Italian, and Iranian. I’m one of 4 common Americans out of 20 people and the only guy from The Bay. The next closest local is from Detroit. Two kids, 2 dogs, 20 adults—it’s a monthly, Persian-themed brunch of friends who have come together in SF.
The backyard of the house is glowing. T-shirt weather, with the faint sounds of Carnival in the distance. We eat. We laugh. We commune with our fellow Friscan-Fam. The kind of joy, I feel heaven would be. When everyone is in a good mood, full of funny things to say, it’s a moment of bliss, where you don’t want it to end. As the local ambassador, I welcome everyone to The City, even as a newcomer to the gathering. I am a guy who’s from the area but never left. In being included, I rediscover new communities of my home area.
“It’s the good times in life that everyone can relate to.”
— “Happiness”, Dead Prez
I walk out of the house (Wednesday 5/29). It's a day of random interactions. The first day where I don’t feel limited by my ankle injury.
I bop down Valencia Street. I stop in a clothing boutique (State of Flux), where I meet Jonny the owner. “I’ve been on your email list for years,” I say. “I signed up as my rap persona Dr. Jaw, and I still get the emails.” We talk about email marketing and owning a small business. The nitty-gritty of “open rates” and “click-through percentages.” We are two people with a service to the public: clothing and content.
I keep bopping down the street, I run into Maresol, the local DJ and provider of sound baths sitting at Dandelion Chocolatiere. The conversation turns into mentoring, about being an artist in the Bay, about finding your way, and the feast and famine of artistic income and success.
Next, I cross Mission and drop into a design studio, IDEO. I have no appointment or business being there, but the guy at the front desk gives me the name of someone to talk to regarding “partnerships.” “What am I doing here?” is a question I often ask myself when I go somewhere “official.” I write down my contact info on a sticky note. If I had a business card, my title would be, “He’s not that serious.”
I post outside IDEO and meet some people. Deena is doing what I aspire to do, she’s co-working at IDEO through connections but doesn’t have any real role at the company. I do this “co-working” two blocks away at KQED. No hot buttery roles for me. Just schmoozing, snacking, and connecting with actual employees, who always ask me, “What do you do here?” I still haven’t figured out a good response, other than,“I’m not that serious.” In reality, I tell them “I’m working on working my way in.”
I head over to KQED but don’t go inside. Instead, there is a little two-person seat, where I sit down and await another random interaction. A Mexican guy, Manuel, is waiting for the bus. My Spanish is good enough for a 10-minute conversation. We cover all the basics: “Work?” Trabajo? “You live here?” En casa. “Wife? ” Esposa? No kids for me, I say. “Why not? They're so cute,” he says. It's the most Spanish I’ve spoken since last summer in Columbia with the Uber driver who was teaching me about the country's styles of music.
I leave, back to 24th Street, where I grab a few basic food items. I mention to the guy in the grocery line my impulse buys that are pure sugar. It was a day of following the impulse to connect, and surrendering to my sweet tooth for human interaction.
I walk out of the house (6/4 Tuesday) I go to Delores Park and sit on a bench next to a guy, Gary, who tells me about his life. About the state of flow, when it comes to performing. He speaks about channeling creativity as a way to connect with source. I think of a quote from a past mentor:
“When the student is ready, the teacher appears”
In each interaction, I find learning moments and teaching moments. A moment of kinship with another human being through the art of conversation. Random access memories. Random moments of interactions. At the intersection of following my bliss.
Thank You for Reading and Listening. This was the first piece recorded at our New Podcast Studio 1528 Webster, Oakland. With your support, these works continue. Mad One Media will offer production services for you to podcast your own voice. Please inquire if you are interested. jw@madone.me -Joshua
Man of the Mission