What Percent Are You?

The San Francisco Department of City Planning has ideas about what should and shouldn't be sold and where in this town. Some think the DCP should mind their own business. For instance, DCP says that single service containers of alcohol should not be sold at many corner liquor stores- depending on the sort of district you like to nap in you could be hard pressed to find that which brings you to the Sandman. Can you imagine?! DCP also thinks that malt liquors that exceed 5.7% alcohol by volume have no place on the shelves of these districts. The nerve! I mean, c'mon, King Coby checks in at 5.9% a.b.v. - how is that going to tuck you in? Real gnappers know that the only way to guarantee a nap is to suck down a Steel Reserve tall boy- 8.1% lays you down nice. The only thing better is two Steelies and a pocket of vodka. Re-lax-ing.

Thank G-d that most liquor stores in these districts ignore these obligations with impunity. Who has ever heard of a Planning cop? Fuck that, a Steel and you are like a kitty on the sofa in the sun.

Whoah, Fuck.

Ever have the sort of night where you aren't quite sure what hit you? Out on the town, you're saggin', looking good, feeling better, then- BLAMMO, it's all over. Your angels have left you.... You're sure that you have just the thing in your bag of tricks to make it all right, all night but try as you might you can't find it- whatever it was. And then it's morning. But it was right there a minute ago, maybe you left it on the bumper? Lay back and groan, you'll feel better before long. Take a nap friend, don't mind the poop.

Liquid Pillow?

If crying in your beer is frowned upon is napping in your beer? It's familiar, cool and comforting. Not that comfort is a prerequisite for a nap... naps happen when naps happen, damn the torpedoes, you're napping!

Springy Shoes!

Hey, have you seen those shoes that have springs on the heels? Lift your spirits, put a spring in your step? Light on your feet- boing, boing, boing! Until you have to make a malt liquor pie 'cause then it's all bouncy-wobbly. Oh, shit- the shoes, the pants, the shirt... fuck, time for a nap.

Long Cold Summer Days

It's been foggy, drizzling and cold- summer weather in the city frankly sucks. And it cuts way down on naps. The sun has finally returned though and with it the gnappers. It's tough catching a break in the big city, bad weather, SFPD- who can get any shut-eye? Especially when the fuzz mentions that your napping is a problem ("It's my seizures!" "No, it's your drinking, you're lucky they didn't pour cold water on you.") that they are tired of dealing with. So hard to bag a nap when your reputation precedes you.

God, I Need A Nap

It's mid-afternoon, I'm trying to hang on and get through the last of the work carp that absolutely needs to be finished this week and I need a nap or at least some excitement to jar me from this somnambulating haze. A nap sounds so good....

Sometimes a nap crackles awake with a jolt. Say you're nodding off in your car, a malty beverage fortified with ingredients that aren't vitamins and minerals in the console between the seats and maybe it's not your car. And let's say your nap, as do the rest of your workaday activities, lives beneath the overarching architecture of a warrant. And that your workaday world doesn't involve the sort of work the Renaissance coiners of "workaday" might have imagined. Assault and robbery are what pay your way, at least as far as the Man is concerned, although we've already seen the effects of relative perspectives. Fuck all that smart-ass shit, you need to slow it down for an hour or so, so you duck onto an alley and take a well-deserved break. But that nettlesome warrant for your arrest has attached to it "armed and dangerous" and the pistol in your waistband probably informs that assessment, at least a little. And you forget that your ride isn't really your ride, because, well, you're driving it. Nap-dreams are invaded by blue men that aren't the Smurfs you've seen dancing with the drank in your spun head these last few nights. No, these smurfs are there because they were tipped off by a meter maid who happened to notice the ride you bedded down in was hot-listed. End of nap.

 

You should never steal a red car either.

Happy Fourth!

 

 USA, USA!

Take the Gnapheads Bowling!

On the rare hot summer day the gnaps fall like bowling pins. Hard to say if this is a strike or a gutter ball.

 

Maybe let's call it a spare?

...brother can you spare a 40?

Ooops!

Sometimes, after a long nap with a favorite horse a person stands up and something falls out of them. Something that has been inside them a long, long time.

Bear in mind that small sidewalk squares like that are 24-30" square. The scale that is absent is the scale of the marvelous bouquet. Earthy, with undertones of rot and a finish that hangs on the clothes. Points also for composition- a delicate centering with just enough off balance to keep it vital.

What brushing starts, Listerine finishes.

Dental hygiene doesn't preclude napping- the ambitious triple task.

Clean dents, wasted and a nap- such a busy man. More naps to come!

Welcome to the neighborhood

Even the outskirts of the Sixth St. Corridor have their hazards. When folks aren't napping they are scoring and to score you gotta get paid!

Remember, while you think it's a rip off, from the other side of that window it looks like laying the groundwork for a nap.

Are you sleepy?

Welcome to a continuing documentation of a very specific sort of nap. Warm some milk and lay right down!

 

Just napping...