826 Valencia - Store Log

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What happens at the Store?

Many have said that upon entering the best pirate supply store in San Francisco, they get a sensation of déjà vu. Others walk in and feel at once the miracle work of an unseen hand. Yet there are those whose eyes bulge and shrink simultaneously while their thoughts are so convoluted that they are unable to shout or mutter the question that most plagues them: “What is this place?”

The store log is weekly account of actual events that occur in the shop, as well as testimonials, comments and complaints from our customers.

October 29, 2005

Today’s sign:
Low on lard?
Missin’ a leg?
We know how it feels & we can help.

Today’s T-shirt log:
I got 80 million for my venture capital firm and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
Joy Division
Wish
Che
Relax Your Assumptions
Pedro the Lion
Poo Poo Head (worn with Zabar's hat)

A couple came in carrying one of those rubber bouncing balls that you sit on and straddle two protruding rubber handles that you hold onto as you bounce around the room. They said the best balls are made by the Italians.

“This lard smells like custard!”

A boy sang a Romanian folk tune with eye-rolls and foot-kicks.

A red-haired guy named Jake only has one setting on his clippers, but he said he might be willing to sell his entire beard to us. I wasn't sure what we could offer him, but then Carson came in and offered to donate a chapter of his novel-in-progress. 826 Valencia syncronicity: beard-trimmings bartered for literature.

A guy said he was going to use the giant lock to stretch out his septum.

— Captain Van Dusen

October 15, 2005

A ski pirate came in this afternoon to outfit himself for his next expedition. He said he envisioned himself hitting the slopes in black and white sea hose, a black tie-on eye patch, and a peg leg. I showed him the various peg leg options: the Turbo, for high speeds; the Backcountry, for uncharted territory; and the XC (cross-country), for lost distance peg-legging. We discussed the possibility of a telemark peg leg and how that would work. He worried the sea hose might slip down when he skis downhill, and I suggested he find some sea garters to hold them up. We debated manly, calf-encircling garters vs. frilly, wasit-encircling garters. I suggested he stop by Foxy Lady, on Mission between 18th and 19th Streets.

He got me thinking about mountain unicycling, which is another sport I've been hearing about recently. Could that be done with peg leg, I wonder.

All afternoon I couldn't stop listening to “You Are My Sunshine.” Its lilting tempo suits the mood of the day. Otka has been listless, too. Her eyes are dim. I am writing this with my fancy pen, which I fashioned from a ballpoint pen refill stuck into the shaft of a hat quill. “Jerry-rigged pen,” a customer scoffed when I handed it to him to sign his credit card receipt. But I am enjoying flourishing it about. “Please, visit our fish theater!” I offer, gesturing magnanimously with a sweep of the feather. In quieter moments, I’ve been using it to tickle my chin.

This morning I spotted a short woman in pirate-print Chuck Taylors ducking into a Volvo on Shotwell and 20th, outside the Quonset hut.

Today two customers came in with legitimate needs for eye patches. A boy performed a rap about tofu.

Lard today: stiff in the autumnal chill.

A boy came in with a “penchant for drawing cheese.”

— Captain Van Dusen

October 05, 2005

Today a man came in specifically to purchase gold teeth for her entire immediate family. Apparently, they were going to take their Christmas picture wearing them.

— Mad Ms. Wannamaker

October 03, 2005

Captain Van Dusen at the helm.

Two lard barterings: a lock from Stephanie and a tendril from Chris’s fledgling sideburn.

Otka is currently on a Zen retreat in Marin. Reports say she’s been chanting at dawn and dusk, circumambulating some ferns, trying zazen (though it’s been hard on her fins), eating her crill oryoki-style (very rapidly and in small bites), and has taken a vow of silence. She has been seen sweeping.

At noon there was a Mop Bin Incident. Mops were thrown, the trap would not spring, frustration was felt. A kind man in an Oxford shirt came in and offered his services. He asked for a snippet of twine with the end dipped in lard and a brass elbow joint from one of the treasure drawers. He hoisted himself up on the chest and began dabbling, threaded the larded twine through the hole, strung on the elbow joint as a counterweight, and administered several test tugs on the string and several jousts to the door with the crutch. Further reports pending.

A man came in carrying a bromeliad. He shook one of the pirate locks, held it to his ear for a moment, then remarked, “This one has nice tone.” A customer today observed that the lard seemed “gassy.”

— Captain Van Dusen


	*Archives* June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 September 2005 August 2005 July 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005		What happens at the Store? Many have said that upon entering the best pirate supply store in San Francisco, they get a sensation of déjà vu. Others walk in and feel at once the miracle work of an unseen hand. Yet there are those whose eyes bulge and shrink simultaneously while their thoughts are so convoluted that they are unable to shout or mutter the question that most plagues them: “What is this place?” The store log is weekly account of actual events that occur in the shop, as well as testimonials, comments and complaints from our customers. October 29, 2005 Today’s sign: Low on lard? Missin’ a leg? We know how it feels & we can help. Today’s T-shirt log: I got 80 million for my venture capital firm and all I got was this lousy T-shirt. Joy Division Wish Che Relax Your Assumptions Pedro the Lion Poo Poo Head (worn with Zabar's hat) A couple came in carrying one of those rubber bouncing balls that you sit on and straddle two protruding rubber handles that you hold onto as you bounce around the room. They said the best balls are made by the Italians. “This lard smells like custard!” A boy sang a Romanian folk tune with eye-rolls and foot-kicks. A red-haired guy named Jake only has one setting on his clippers, but he said he might be willing to sell his entire beard to us. I wasn't sure what we could offer him, but then Carson came in and offered to donate a chapter of his novel-in-progress. 826 Valencia syncronicity: beard-trimmings bartered for literature. A guy said he was going to use the giant lock to stretch out his septum. — Captain Van Dusen October 15, 2005 A ski pirate came in this afternoon to outfit himself for his next expedition. He said he envisioned himself hitting the slopes in black and white sea hose, a black tie-on eye patch, and a peg leg. I showed him the various peg leg options: the Turbo, for high speeds; the Backcountry, for uncharted territory; and the XC (cross-country), for lost distance peg-legging. We discussed the possibility of a telemark peg leg and how that would work. He worried the sea hose might slip down when he skis downhill, and I suggested he find some sea garters to hold them up. We debated manly, calf-encircling garters vs. frilly, wasit-encircling garters. I suggested he stop by Foxy Lady, on Mission between 18th and 19th Streets. He got me thinking about mountain unicycling, which is another sport I've been hearing about recently. Could that be done with peg leg, I wonder. All afternoon I couldn't stop listening to “You Are My Sunshine.” Its lilting tempo suits the mood of the day. Otka has been listless, too. Her eyes are dim. I am writing this with my fancy pen, which I fashioned from a ballpoint pen refill stuck into the shaft of a hat quill. “Jerry-rigged pen,” a customer scoffed when I handed it to him to sign his credit card receipt. But I am enjoying flourishing it about. “Please, visit our fish theater!” I offer, gesturing magnanimously with a sweep of the feather. In quieter moments, I’ve been using it to tickle my chin. This morning I spotted a short woman in pirate-print Chuck Taylors ducking into a Volvo on Shotwell and 20th, outside the Quonset hut. Today two customers came in with legitimate needs for eye patches. A boy performed a rap about tofu. Lard today: stiff in the autumnal chill. A boy came in with a “penchant for drawing cheese.” — Captain Van Dusen October 05, 2005 Today a man came in specifically to purchase gold teeth for her entire immediate family. Apparently, they were going to take their Christmas picture wearing them. — Mad Ms. Wannamaker October 03, 2005 Captain Van Dusen at the helm. Two lard barterings: a lock from Stephanie and a tendril from Chris’s fledgling sideburn. Otka is currently on a Zen retreat in Marin. Reports say she’s been chanting at dawn and dusk, circumambulating some ferns, trying zazen (though it’s been hard on her fins), eating her crill oryoki-style (very rapidly and in small bites), and has taken a vow of silence. She has been seen sweeping. At noon there was a Mop Bin Incident. Mops were thrown, the trap would not spring, frustration was felt. A kind man in an Oxford shirt came in and offered his services. He asked for a snippet of twine with the end dipped in lard and a brass elbow joint from one of the treasure drawers. He hoisted himself up on the chest and began dabbling, threaded the larded twine through the hole, strung on the elbow joint as a counterweight, and administered several test tugs on the string and several jousts to the door with the crutch. Further reports pending. A man came in carrying a bromeliad. He shook one of the pirate locks, held it to his ear for a moment, then remarked, “This one has nice tone.” A customer today observed that the lard seemed “gassy.” — Captain Van Dusen