Hope to See You at Our San Francisco Meetup Today

Many cool people will be there. Join the fun.


5:00 to 7:00 PM

The Press Club
Address: 20 Yerba Buena Lane
San Francisco
(415) 744-5000

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It’s off Market, and Yerba Buena Lane is between 3rd and 4th Streets. Press Club is a flight below street level. We have a large table booked, and they’ll have a sign for us. See you soon!

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      1. nobody

        Yes! LA or San Diego or anywhere in between.

        In the meantime, later today my heart will stray north to Baghdad by the bay.

      2. Kim Kaufman

        I would do a LA meetup but need to get David Dayan involved and he may be very busy promoting his book “Chain of Title” right now.

  1. H. Alexander Ivey

    A glass of wine to y’all. Can’t be in San Fran, am in Singapore at their Epicurean Expo show, sipping and nibbling.

  2. Tony

    Clayton fire in Lake County forces me to stay close to home in case we have to evacuate. Regret missing the event. NC is first thing I read every morning. Keep up the good work!

  3. Michael K.

    As one of the cool people, I will certainly be there, Yves. I look forward to seeing you and the NC gang again!

  4. nobody

    For those folk in fog city who long to go on pilgrimages, or go seeking out du temps perdu, I give you Chris Marker’s itinerary:

    He wrote me that only one film had been capable of portraying impossible memory—insane memory: Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. In the spiral of the titles he saw time covering a field ever wider as it moved away, a cyclone whose present moment contains motionless the eye.

    In San Francisco he had made his pilgrimage to all the film’s locations: the florist Podesta Baldocchi, where James Stewart spies on Kim Novak—he the hunter, she the prey. Or was it the other way around? The tiles hadn’t changed.

    He had driven up and down the hills of San Francisco where Jimmy Stewart, Scotty, follows Kim Novak, Madeline. It seems to be a question of trailing, of enigma, of murder, but in truth it’s a question of power and freedom, of melancholy and dazzlement, so carefully coded within the spiral that you could miss it, and not discover immediately that this vertigo of space in reality stands for the vertigo of time.

    He had followed all the trails. Even to the cemetery at Mission Dolores where Madeline came to pray at the grave of a woman long since dead, whom she should not have known. He followed Madeline—as Scotty had done—to the Museum at the Legion of Honor, before the portrait of a dead woman she should not have known. And on the portrait, as in Madeline’s hair, the spiral of time.

    The small Victorian hotel where Madeline disappeared had disappeared itself; concrete had replaced it, at the corner of Eddy and Gough. On the other hand the sequoia cut was still in Muir Woods. On it Madeline traced the short distance between two of those concentric lines that measured the age of the tree and said, “Here I was born… and here I died.”

    He remembered another film in which this passage was quoted. The sequoia was the one in the Jardin des plantes in Paris, and the hand pointed to a place outside the tree, outside of time.

    The painted horse at San Juan Bautista, his eye that looked like Madeline’s: Hitchcock had invented nothing, it was all there. He had run under the arches of the promenade in the mission as Madeline had run towards her death. Or was it hers?

    From this fake tower—the only thing that Hitchcock had added—he imagined Scotty as time’s fool of love, finding it impossible to live with memory without falsifying it. Inventing a double for Madeline in another dimension of time, a zone that would belong only to him and from which he could decipher the indecipherable story that had begun at Golden Gate when he had pulled Madeline out of San Francisco Bay, when he had saved her from death before casting her back to death. Or was it the other way around?

    In San Francisco I made the pilgrimage of a film I had seen nineteen times.

    [YouTube clip; full text; “A Carefully Plotted, Totally Stalky Map of Hitchcock’s ‘Vertigo’“; Vertigo locations Wiki]

    (At greater length, there’s a book: The San Francisco of Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo: Place, Pilgrimage, and Commemoration.)

  5. Barry Fay

    It´s at times like this that I wish I still lived in Santa Barbara instead of Berlin. I see some people hoping that a meeting will take place in LA sometime and think “If I were in LA, SF would seem pretty damn close!” Anyway, I hope all goes well and a good time will be had by all!
    Barry Fay

  6. Tim Hettman

    Dear naked capitalist.
    Sorry I can’t join you. Maybe next time.
    If you need a place to eat, although I can’t imagine anyone not being able to find excellent food in “the City”, On lower California St. in the financial district, very close by, try the Tadich Grill http://www.tadichgrill.com/. Just ask the cabby.

  7. Brian Lewis

    Why do I find out about this 2 hours after it is over. I guess I need to pay attention better to the postings. Arrrggghhh!

    1. sd

      There were dedicated posts to it several times this week. Hard to miss actually. Do you use an RSS feed of any kind to help stay up on posts?

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