North Beach

When Creation Entertainment announced their 2017 San Francisco convention

would include a tour of the city hosted by Rob and Rich, fans decided this was

the perfect opportunity for a project to show appreciation for a little movie

Richard shot there.

The Postcards from North Beach project raised $500 in memory of Rob Mulloy

(the friend Richard wears his signature ball-chain necklace in memory of) and

provided Rich with a journal of fan messages, essays and images devoted to the

movie.

Postcards from North Beach

North Beach is a postcard sent from my past. Watching it for the first time took me back to a particular stage in my life. One select group of friends. An effortlessly cool, perpetually stoned exboyfriend. And the little corner of our city we made our own. It made me smile, reminisce and buy pleather pants (thanks Lucie!). For me, the movie perfectly captures the ups and downs of being part of a select, tight-knit community in a big city at a certain stage in life. The upside? There was always someone to go drinking with, and your name was always ‘on the door’. There was a downside too, of course. Like the way you’d hold off from introducing your super cool new beau to your friends, because you knew *at least* one of them had been there before you and was just dying to tell you what you were letting yourself in for with him. North Beach is the endless summer where all you needed was music, good conversation, black coffee and a pack of smokes. It’s long nights spent in sticky floored clubs so hot from moshing bodies that condensation dripped from the ceiling like rain. Disgusting, maybe, but an ice-breaker. No big deal crashing on some stranger’s pock-marked sofa once you’ve been slam-dancing in their sweat for 4 hours. It’s a movie made by friends, and that shows. Beneath the cynicism and the smart humour is a heart bursting with affection for the people and places it portrays. For me, it perfectly captures the camaraderie of those nights we’d spill outside onto the pavement, aching and sweaty and high, and walk the city until we came down, or sobered up, or until some greasy spoon café opened for breakfast. Laughing and riffing off each other and sharing our last cigarette. I live 5300 miles from San Francisco. But I found home in North Beach. I don’t get too many chances to dance anymore. I quit smoking. I drink (a little) less. The ‘Pete’ I kissed breathlessly on street corners is a husband and father now. But a little of the ‘North Beach me’ still lives in my soul. I revisit her every time I watch the movie. And I’m still rocking those pleather pants.

RAIN TROWER