It was the spring of 2010, and I hit the ground running in the City by the Bay, stepping directly into the smoky, buzzing heart of the Beat generation’s old stomping grounds. I landed a room in a single room occupancy at the Basque Hotel on Broadway, right in a neon canyon of flashing lights and strip club marquees.
The only sanctuary from that non-stop cacophony was a little divey tiki bar—let’s call it the Tiki Shack. The very first night I hit the pavement, I pushed through the door and found Mimi, the queen of the high seas, holding down the fort. We bonded over dice and cheap beers, and that place instantly became my living room, my confession box, and my sanctuary.
To make things even wilder, Mimi lived right across the hall from me. We’d hop out into the breezeway, tap on the windows, and pass a joint back and forth, creating our own secret tunnel through the madness of the city. When the bar was closed, we’d retreat to the booths, crank up a movie on the screen, and lose ourselves in the glow, forging a bond that time and distance could never break.
Proof in the pudding being that I haven’t seen or spoke to her in probably close to a decade. And when I saw she was an accomplished photographer journalist I asked her to contribute to CHAINSAW. without hesitation she sent the beautiful and ghastly photos. Welcome to the team Mimi. Stay tuned for more from Mrs. Ayers she’s a hell of a writer too.
Chainsaw Magazine 