I had Mongolian neighbors when I lived at the old YMCA Hotel on Turk and Hyde twenty years ago. They were an extended family of six or more in a 10 x 12 studio. Around this time of year, Lunar New Year, I heard perfect a capella harmony with at least four voices through the wall. Made my hair stand on end. They weren't practicing for a public performance, it's just what you do when you're Mongolian and it's Lunar New Year.

They had two little kids under ten years old who they'd just let wander all around the Tenderloin. They also hung out at my place drawing with my Prismacolors in sketchbooks. There's a picture of a yurt with the sun in the corner somewhere in my closet.

When the kids visited, I propped my door open and told the neighbors to keep their door open, too. They were open & fearless people. I was not. The Tenderloin was awful then and even worse now. I hope they did okay.

Their older brothers drank me under the table St. Patrick's Day 2003. I traded jewelry  with them, a silver necklace for a silver necklace. I gave my hippie crystals to the little kids, or they stole them, I can't remember which. Either way it's something worth not holding on to.

That night of drinking & barter, I learned they were serious with the Ghengis Khan love. Imagine if Thomas Jefferson farked everybody's grandmas & there's absolutely no ambivalence about how great that is.

Altogether a superior culture. Beautiful ferocious people.