If you live around 22nd and Guerrero, you know what I’m talking about. Once out and proud, the largest rubber band ball in the world (well, in a liquor store in the Mission) has become more and more reclusive and Howard Hughes-like. Sometimes I forget there ever was a ball.
But when I stopped in the Pride Superette yesterday afternoon, there it was, hovering among the processed grocery foods like a dark planet. A dark, blanket-covered planet.
Much of the ball’s saga can be found here, by the way.
a sad way to end one’s career; i guess the rubber loses some of its tension, its attraction and allure. bet that ball’s got a lot of stories to tell (probably not very interesting tho)