By Hiya Swanhuyser
Erick Lyle's book release party for On the Lower Frequencies: A Secret History of the City was a big complicated event; this seems to be the way the author likes things, and he's got his reasons. The art center was full of post-crusty punk kids and graying left wing activists, needle exchangers and gutter-glam freaks; I got there just in time to eat the free dinner, which was yummy. Later Erick said the food was provided by "Life," and pointed to a guy in the audience. Everyone clapped appreciatively (we all wanted the recipe to the classic hippie salad dressing), but I pretended Erick was just being cosmic. He's totally not cosmic, though.
The CounterPulse house was packed so I got a perch on the stage's edge and Erick gave one of his slide shows, which was good but nowhere near as hysterically funny or obsessive as the slide show he does on things people have written in wet cement. In addition to giving a general idea of what the book's about, the show included a photo of a burned building on Mission Street in about 1999, bearing a banner reading "Landlord arson kills."
What's there now? Erick didn't name the place exactly, (I figure he's got his reasons, so I won't either) he just said it was a new building with "a couple of fancy restaurants, one with a rooftop garden, and a hostel." So if you ever wondered why that place is inevitably filled with douchebags, there's your answer: it has bad karma. I had to leave super early, while the guest speakers were still telling about the semi-illegal harm reduction shenanigans of the recent Haight-Ashbury past, and when I went outside I found people waiting in line to get in, including my husband. We went home, sat on our roof, and listened to the festive sound of yuppies getting hammered at Medjool, just down the street.
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