#slims san francisco

[greendayauthority]

Slim's, San Francisco, 5 July 1994

📷: Gil Warguez

[mikeywayarchive]

Slim’s, San Francisco // May 11th 2004 // strawberryxlove on livejournal

[thekourtneyj]

🧡🌴Spent the Fall in California last year.

[smeagles]

Slim’s, San Francisco, CA 9.7.2004 | Robin

[ceedeelamb]

[rastronomicals]

11:06 PM EST January 27, 2023:

Uncle Tupelo - “Everybody Knows This is Nowhere (Live)” From the album   Live At Slim’s, San Francisco, 11/1193

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

[themcrarchive]

5/11/2004: MCR plays at Slims in San Francisco, CA🩸 #Revenge20

📸 via strawberryxlove on LiveJournal

[skeletoncrevvs]

slims, san francisco, ca 09.07.2004 | chocolatecupcakes @ flickr

[xhxhxhx]

Eli got his ballot the other day.

I'm still trying to understand it.

I.

The ballot card itself consists of four pages, each 8.5 by 19 inches, each double-sided. It carries the mark of the Secretary of State, tint and watermark. Cal. Elec. Code § 13002.

The United States guarantees to every one of its States a republican form of government. That means that here the people rule, more or less directly. California leans to the "more" side.

There are fourteen offices on the ballot, for the United States, the State of California, the City and County of San Francisco, for the school and college board, and the transit district.

Then there are twenty-five ballot propositions, ten for the State, fourteen for the City and County, one for the school board, and none, I suppose, for the transit district.

The ballot card arrived with something that calls itself a Voter Information Pamphlet and Sample Ballot. The Pamphlet is actually a volume of 294 pages, printed and bound on stock that gives it the texture and dimensions of a slim phone book.

San Francisco is a small town that likes to think it's a big one.

It certainly gave itself a big book.

II.

Looking over the materials, I was troubled by how little I knew and understood about what Eli was asked to do.

To take on part of the government of the State, as the ballot asks you to, is a heavy thing. It takes intelligence and judgment to discriminate between the better and the worse.

It takes some amount of understanding. It takes more when you're asked not only about one candidate, but many, and not only about candidates, but about the laws themselves.

It takes knowledge of the offices and their powers. In a constitutional government, officers have the powers the laws give them, and assemblies the powers the constitution gives them.

And I don't know the constitution or the laws.

III.

The Constitution of the United States is a compact little instrument. It amounts to about 7,500 words across seven articles and twenty-seven amendments.

The compactness is by design. It is short because short instruments, and possibly only them, M‘Culloch v. Maryland, 17 U.S. (4 Wheat.) 316, 407 (1819), may be read and understood.

California's constitution is a beast of a different order.

California doesn't make it easy to read its constitution. But the State Legislature does periodically put out a volume with the federal and state constitutions, along with other instruments.

In its most recent edition, updated to November 8, 2022, the book is 467 pages. The federal constitution, with amendments, takes up 22 of those pages. The state constitution takes up 210.

I still haven't more than skimmed it.

IV.

I'm trying to read up on the constitution and the laws of California. The State doesn't make it easy.

California is sparing in its reproductions of its laws. California permits you to read individual articles whole, but not parts or titles, at least not titles with more than one chapter.

To read the whole of the California Penal Code, for example, as presented by the State, you would need to open something a little short of 680 separate addresses. The four parts and 34,400 sections of California's penal code demand nothing less.

In Canada, where criminal law and procedure are exclusively federal matters by virtue of Constitution Act, 1867, 30 Vict. c. 3, § 91(27), the Crown provides the entirety of the federal Criminal Code, RSC 1985 c C-46, at a single address or a single document.

In California, your 680 separate addresses are not law. They are not even evidence of the law. If you take your copy of the California Penal Code, as presented, before a state magistrate, they may decline to take it.

Because California does not guarantee that what it presents is the law. It does not authenticate those 680 separate addresses, at least. California does not authenticate codes, titles, or chapters it presents to you. It does authenticate, but only something much smaller. Sections.

California will authenticate an individual section of its written law for you. It will give you a PDF with a digital signature. A single, letter page. A single section and a vast, blank space. And a digital signature, courtesy of Adobe.

That's what California gives you. But to get the whole thing? To get the whole 34,400 sections of the California Penal Code, the 9,500 sections of the Civil Code, or the 61,000 sections of the Revenue and Taxation Code? Well.

You'll have to put those together yourself.

V.

That's what I'm doing. I'm trying to put them together myself.

[gatabella]

Audrey Hepburn at a party in San Francisco. Photos by Slim Aarons, c.1954

[the-jewel-catalogue]

Queen Camilla's past jewels at the Royal Variety Performance

2006: She wore earrings featuring large amethysts in slim diamond clusters, as well as a delicate necklace with amethyst and diamond drops. The necklace has been in Camilla’s jewelry box since the early years of her marriage, and it’s thought to be an antique piece dating to the nineteenth century. A final touch of sparkle was added with a gorgeous diamond bracelet, worn on her left wrist.

2008: This diamond demi-parure, with its pear-shaped stones, has been in Camilla’s collection since at least 2005. That November, she debuted the diamond earrings and necklace at a dinner in San Francisco. Since then, she’s worn the jewels for a whole variety of evening occasions.

2010: Camilla wore green with her diamond and emerald demi-parure, thought to have been a gift from the Saudi royal family, to watch performances by Adele, Kylie Minogue, the Royal Ballet, and the cast of Les Miserables.

2013: This time around, Camilla wore sapphires and diamonds with the blue evening gown. The spotlight piece was a modern diamond floral pendant with an enormous sapphire centerpiece, worn suspended from a diamond necklace. Camilla also wore coordinating sapphire and diamond earrings.

2016: Along with the sparkling embellishments on the gown itself, Camilla added even more glitz by wearing serious diamonds: the necklace and matching earrings from her pear-shaped diamond demi-parure.

~ The Court Jeweller

[greendayauthority]

Slim's, San Francisco, 5 July 1994

[arcane-vagabond]

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Two

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. Isaac Cassidy's gang is still hanging about, stirring up trouble in the name of their fallen leader. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Trigger Warnings: Talk of mining, Talk of gold, Mentions of blood, Mentions of Isaac Cassidy, Feelings of being watched, Fluff, Romance, like a disgusting amount of flirting and pining, idiots in love. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.0k

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist 1 || Playlist 2

The air inside the assembly hall was heavy with rapt attention as the townsfolk fixed their gazes upon the three men on stage. You noticed Maverick shifting ever so slightly on his feet, a show of nerves that seemed so out of character for the man. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell may be the mayor, but he was a quiet man - a characteristic you had been told was earned with age and years of responsibility thrust upon him. His lips twitched in a nervous smile that didn’t go unnoticed by you as his eyes flickered across the crowd, meeting your own before flitting away to look at someone else.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve asked you to gather here today,” he said finally, tone clear and even, showing no hint of the nerves he was feeling in the moment. He took a half step back, angling his body to face the unknown man at his side. Your eyes shifted to the right to study him.

He was a tall man with a slim build that hinted at a muscular physique in his youth. Wrinkles littered his face much like Maverick and Iceman’s, though his hair was a stark white in comparison to Maverick’s graying black. His face was stern but not unkind, the look of a man who meant business but who might also have fun at your expense. His demeanor was relaxed as his eyes flickered to Maverick’s before facing back forward.

“Allow me to introduce a long-time friend of mine that’s been helping us Benjamin and myself out with our little project,” Maverick began again, hand raised towards the stranger. “This here is Ron Kerner. Some of you might recognize him from way back in the day before he set up shop in San Francisco. He’s been kind enough to make his way here to help us set up shop.”

“Set up shop for what, Maverick?” Someone hollered out, causing a wave of murmured agreement to ripple through the crowd.

“Right,” he sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck, a frown pulling on his lips. “You know everything I do is to try and do right by the good people of this town. I wouldn’t have pursued this if I didn’t think it was something worth doing, you all know that.”

“Get on with it!”

Several murmurs of agreement floated around the crowd, and Maverick grimaced, eyes shifting towards Benjamin for assistance. Benjamin stood up a little taller, walking to stand next to the older man and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he addressed the crowd.

“What Maverick is trying to say,” he began, “is that there is an investment opportunity. An opportunity for jobs and a boost to our fine town’s economy. It’s hit several towns and areas in the west, drawing more and more people with each passing day. It is the thing which all men seek. Ladies and gentlemen, I mean to say that there is gold here in Maverick.”

The entire assembly hall broke into excited chattering, and your eyebrows shot up onto your forehead. Birdie drew in an excited breath as she clutched at your arm, her other clutching Bunny’s.

“Gold?” She murmured, eyes darting excitedly to you as she squirmed in her seat. “That’s good news right?”

You weren’t so sure. Gold was a risky business at the best of times, and from the mutterings you had managed to overhear at Hondo’s store the past couple of weeks, the local farmers were worried that it was shaping up to be another exceptionally dry summer. The last few summers had been mild, from the sounds of it, but the older men in town were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jake and the other Daggers had told you stories about growing up with the last major drought that had occurred, eyes looking towards a distant past that spoke of hunger and loss.

“Everyone, please!” Benjamin called out, voice barely being heard above the crowd. He raised his hands high to try and draw attention to himself, but let them drop in defeat when the noise only grew louder. A shrill whistle echoed through the room, several people wincing at the intrusive noise as all eyes turned to the far corner where Sheriff Kazansky leaned against the wall. He let his fingers drop from his lips as he crossed his arms, settling back with an unamused scowl towards the people gathered.

“The sooner you let the man talk,” he groused, “the sooner your questions can be answered. It’s like you folks ain’t never heard of gold before for pete’s sake.”

The crowd slowly turned back around, looking much like a giant group of reprimanded children. A smile tugged on your lips as you caught Ice’s gaze from across the room. His scowl shifted into a warm smile as he looked at you, shooting you a quick wink before nodding back towards the stage. You bowed your head before adhering to his silent request, catching Benjamin’s thankful smile towards the older man.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” he murmured. “As I was saying, yes. Gold has been found in the area, and with Mr. Kerner’s help, we’ve been able to set up mining operations outside of town and establish rights to the gold in the area. Those of you who wish to try your luck at panning or mining will need to first apply for a permit. You can do so by seeing me or Maverick here, and we can help you with the paperwork.”

You tuned out the rest, allowing your thoughts to wander as your brother droned on and answered questions from the crowd. You had heard talk about the shady characters that a gold rush tended to attract, the types of crimes they committed. The town of Maverick wasn’t crime free, you knew that better than anyone, but there was an unspoken rule amongst the people you called neighbors: protect your own.

You had gained the trust of the locals only a month prior when you had saved Jake from swinging from the gallows - something that was more for your benefit than for theirs, but it had won you their respect and gratitude nonetheless.

So lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed when you had twisted around to look at the outlaw in question, your brow furrowed into a faraway glare that had him raising an eyebrow at you. You snapped out of it when he made his way past the few people standing in the aisle of the packed assembly hall, crouching down beside you. The smell of clean linen and faint tobacco permeated the surrounding air, and you let out a quiet hum at the familiar smell.

“Normally I know what you’re glaring at me for, honey girl,” he whispered, a hand coming up to rest on the back of your chair as he shot you a curious look, smirk barely contained. “But I’m afraid you’re going to have to clue me in on this one.”

You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from him to look back up at the stage.

“I wasn’t meaning to,” you confessed, lips pulling back into a grimace.

“What’s eatin’ away at you?”

“Perhaps you just have that effect on me,” you challenged with a smirk, sparing him a glance. A lascivious grin spread across his face as he leaned in closer.

“I think I have a lot of effects on you, pretty girl,” he teased, running his eyes up and down your figure, causing your cheeks to heat with anticipation. Birdie cleared her throat, drawing both of your attentions to her. She raised an eyebrow at the two of you before turning her gaze pointedly to the surrounding crowd. Your cheeks were heated for a different reason this time, and you noticed Jake’s cheeks dusted a light pink as well when you peered at him.

“Sorry, miss,” Jake murmured, shooting her an apologetic smile before looking back at you with a shameless wink. You rolled your eyes, staring back at the stage pointedly. Jake stood, shifting his weight onto the foot closest to you, but making no move to leave his new spot. You could feel the eyes on you two, most of them coming from the direction of a certain group of girls. You paid them no mind, allowing your thoughts to wander back to the dangers of allowing gold mining within the town of Maverick.

Would it boost the local economy? Most assuredly. Was that worth the shady characters that would come crawling in from whichever city they left behind? That remained to be seen. The violence and crime was already something you had learned to live with, to deal with on your own even, but that familiarity had come at a price, and your fingers itched with the phantom blood you could still feel dripping from the tips, Isaac Cassidy’s pitch black eyes still boring into you from beyond the grave.

It startled you when people began to move around you, voices ringing out as the townfolk made to leave. A hand appeared in your line of sight, and you looked up to see Jake giving you a soft smile as he waited for you to collect yourself. Shoving aside the sick feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, you took his hand, feeling an instant sense of release to know that he was still safe, still with you.

“I have to talk to your brother about some things,” he told you, pulling you to your feet gently. “Wait for me by the door? It shouldn’t take but a minute.”

“I’ll be counting,” you told him, a teasing lilt to your tone as you squeezed his hand. He chuckled, eyes sparkling with what you could only describe as adoration. His hand lingered in yours for a moment longer before finally letting go, eyes never leaving you as he backed up towards the stage. You chuckled, shaking your head, only turning when Birdie brushed up against you.

“You’ve got that man wrapped around your little finger,” she giggled. You raised an eyebrow at her, eyes darting to Bunny who gave you a knowing look.

“Don’t even try to argue,” the saloon girl said with a roll of her eyes. “Everyone here knows it. Even those girls who haven’t stopped glaring at you since Seresin came sauntering down the aisle.”

She gestured behind her, and sure enough, the group of girls were shooting you daggers as they whispered amongst each other. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead turning back to your friends.

“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” you retorted, clasping your hands in front of you as the three of you began up the aisle. Birdie let out a rather indignant and unladylike squawk at your words, eyes growing wide in protest.

“You can’t be serious!” She exclaimed. You pursed your lips, eyes darting to the back wall.

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of,” you began, a smile tugging on your lips, “but if I’m guilty, then so are the two of you.”

“Can we walk you two home?”

Bob stopped in front of your little group, Bradley not far behind him, and you took a step back to gesture at your two friends.

“By all means, gentlemen,” you smiled, earning a pair of matching glares from your friends.

“This isn’t over!” Birdie hissed as Bradley laid a gentle hand on the small of her back just as Bob offered his arm to Bunny. Both girls gave you pointed looks before allowing themselves to be led out of the building, the last of the chatter in the entrance hall leaving with them.

It had been fifteen minutes, and you were beginning to grow impatient. Shooting a glare at one of the doors leading into the assembly hall, you could hear the group of men erupting into laughter. You huffed, pacing back and forth in front of the entryway. What on earth could they possibly be talking about?

“I need some air,” you muttered to yourself, the leftover heat from so many bodies gathered in one space causing your head to feel light. You pushed the door open, sighing in relief as the cool, night air engulfed you. The sweat clinging to your skin added another layer of relief as you stood in the middle of the street, head leaned back and eyes closed.

Soon, the summertime would be here again, and you grimaced at the thought of the sticky heat that would cling to you with little to no relief available. You truly hated the heat.

You allowed yourself to relax in your moment of solitude, arms stretched wide as you twirled in the dirt road, a smile once again gracing your face. Life out in the west had started rough for you, no one could argue that, but you had managed to survive and even find a place for yourself here with the help of your newfound loved ones. Of course, there had been a rough patch in the middle there, but you had overcome it, coming out stronger in the end and even earning yourself a little nickname from the locals: Priest.

“I don’t get it,” you had frowned, staring at the barmaid in front of you. Bunny let out a sigh as she placed the mug down, placing both hands on the bar as she stared at you.

“It’s because of the way you made Isaac confess to everything,” she explained, cocking her head to the side. “And the way you brought him to his knees, begging for mercy.”

“He didn’t beg for mercy,” you scowled. “Who’s saying that? That’s not true at all!”

“It doesn’t matter,” the other girl had sighed. “That’s what story is making the rounds, and that’s the one that’s gonna stick, Scout. Just let it happen because it’s going to whether you approve of it or not.”

You still thought it was silly, quite frankly, but you had let it go. You had even gotten better at holding back your eye rolls every time you heard someone refer to you with that nickname.

An odd feeling overcame you, pulling you back into the current moment. Your arms dropped down to your sides as you opened your eyes, gaze flickering around the empty streets before landing on a figure hiding in the shadows just two streets down. Your heart stopped at the unexpected sight, eyes narrowing to try and make out who it was. He was a man of average height, and you could just barely make out the few features on his bearded face. You were sure you recognized the man who stood there watching you. His face was unreadable, intensely so as he stared at you, hands in his pockets. Before you could call out to him, the door to city hall opened behind you and you turned with a jump.

Jake trotted down the few stairs, a scowl on his face as he took in the sight of you alone.

“I thought I told you to wait for me by the entrance?” He asked, stopping in front of you with his hands on his hips.

“I did,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a matching scowl. “That was twenty minutes ago.”

A sheepish look crossed over his face, and he hunched his shoulders as he looked at you.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “We lost track of the time.”

You hummed, turning your gaze back down the street towards where the man had been standing, only now he was gone. You frowned, brow pinching as you tried to think of where you knew him from.

“What is it?” Jake asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. You shook your head.

“It’s nothing,” you sighed, placing your arms around his shoulders as he swayed the two of you in place. “Just thought I saw something.”

“Your eyes must be playing tricks on you,” he murmured, leaning forward to rest his head against yours. He gave you a suggestive smirk. “You must be tired. We should get you back home and in bed.”

“I feel that it’s in my best interest to inform you that I will be going to bed alone tonight,” you told him, earning a pout from the blond.

“Haven’t you ever heard that doing things together is much more fun than doing things by yourself?” He retorted.

“And haven’t you ever heard of not taking advantage of a lady?” You shot back, an eyebrow raised at him. He tossed his head back into a cackle, leaning back forward with a grin.

“Honey girl, you and I both know that you take advantage of me plenty,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I do no such thing!” You argued, pouting up at him. He huffed a laugh before placing a brief kiss against your lips.

“Sure you don’t,” he responded, the grin never leaving his face. “So what would you call the other day when I was working hard on your brother’s ranch and you practically tackled me in the barn to-”

“Jacob Seresin, don’t you dare finish that sentence,” you scowled. His grin grew impossibly larger as he squeezed you tighter against him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, green eyes growing soft as they took you in. One of his hands ran up your side and stopped to cup your cheek, thumb running gently over the skin there. You basked in the attention he showed you, eyes fluttering shut as you took the time to absorb the moment.

“Jake?”

“Yes, honey girl?”

“Hurry up and propose to me,” you stated, eyes opening to find his soft expression mix with one of utter amusement.

“Can’t rush these things, darlin’,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Want it to be perfect for you.”

You let out a sigh, pursing your lips in impatience. Jake chuckled at your put out expression, pulling away just enough to direct you towards the way home.

“All in good time, honey girl,” he rasped, squeezing your hip. “All in good time.”

A/N: And we're back with the DGU! Friendly reminder that I am doing away with my tag list and using my side blog: @arcanevagabond-library for update notifications! Just follow that blog and turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of all updates! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I also post updates on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond if you'd like to check me out there as well. Until next time!

[justdavina]

Justdavina says.....End Gender- Specific Clothing!!!!!

I hope you enjoy this blog dedicated to liberating all genders (especially men) so that they can wear what they choose. Dresses, skirts, high heels, and all other clothing considered gender-specific should all be personal choices free from peer pressure. I am especially fond of androgynous looks.

Gorgeous Crossdresser Penelope “Penny” Rose from San Francisco, California shares her favorite Outfits - Style to wear. Some words by Penelope: “Hi, I’m Penelope (but you can call me Penny) and I’m here to chat about my five favorite outfits. I find it incredibly hard to only pick five, there’s just too many looks and styles that I love to present myself in. There’s also some outfits that I really love that are a little more out there and that you can find on my various socials. With all that said, let’s have a look at the ones I have chosen.

“Let’s kick things off simply with this adorable black dress. Given its shortness I’d count it as an LBD but the sheer size of the skirt makes it more of a statement than a regular, more figure-hugging LBD.

The skirt is the main appeal of this outfit for me though; it’s very flattering because it hides any extra pounds you may carry on your waist under its abundant poof, it is short enough to show off your slim legs perfectly which creates a great contrast and its shape is just inherently femme while maintaining a level of girly playfulness. Pairing the dress with shiny black nylons and black pumps completes an elegant showstopper of a look.”

“I love how cute this outfit makes me feel. The pencil dress hugs me in all the right places (without being too tight) to show off my curves and the belt further accentuates my waist, making me feel all the more femme. But apart from the flattering shape I also like the striking blue/red color contrast between the dress and the belt/heel combo. I like how this is a bit of retro look without feeling old-fashioned.”

[chronivore]

Poison Ivy (The Cramps) @ Slim’s, San Francisco, CA (1991-10-02) by André Barcinski

[historia-vitae-magistras]

New England Alfred always pulls at my heartstrings, but consider Detroit-flavoured Alfred. A city born in his brother's foreign tongue, its archives are as full of the 18th century as anything on the Atlantic, but never in English. He looks upon Frank Lloyd Wright and Monet and doesn't flinch at the odd gunshot in the background. The American dream turns towards the all-American waking nightmare with the soundtrack of Delta Blues, Detroit Rock City, and the Real Slim Shady. He's dislocated a shoulder smashing on the riot shields, refusing to give another inch to the ruling class. He walks down a street that was once considered the crown jewel in America's Paris and later used to train teenage soldiers how to hunt in urban combat and shivers. He never does get as much credit for the winters here as Matt does for his.

The summer a grenade rolled under his cot in Vietnam, the rest of the country and much of the world swooned with the summer of love. That summer, San Francisco laid languorous with lust, but he went home to Detroit. Because Detroit burned. It's always burning. The Black Day In July never ended. They don't bother putting out the fires anymore. Urban sprawl drains the city like open veins, blue and red lights flashing, and that eternal American question: Who are you? It can't be answered the way it used to. "An optimist." He'd say, scoured clean by fire hoses set on strikers. But now it's harder to answer. Now, democracy's arsenal lay open on the morgue table. And a city, a country and he are vivisected by one scalpel stroke, and one bone saw blade cracks open one chest to answer. What went wrong in Detroit? What's happening to American democracy? Who are you, Alfred? Who are you?

Detroit's only real Van Gogh stares at him from under a sun hat as intently as the locals do that Bruins jersey he forgot to take off in the airport bathroom. The river that parts him from his brother whispers under the silence of the city desolate and depopulated: O, American Atlas, are your shoulders still as broad as the Spirit of the Detroit?