at cafe, shirtless, blond, dreadlocked surfer dude has tattoo of an outline of france off his hip while aryan evangelists work the queue.
january was, for the very most part, an alcohol free month until last night. ugh. why? hangover is atleast tempered by beautiful morning.
the morning arrived too soon.
‘tis the witching hour. stars are out but soon they will set, time to go home. sleep.
by mistake, tristmegistus shandy became tristram shandy. his tale is the subject of a cock & bull story. the c & b is where i’m headed.
wine with la carlita, followed by a promenade in the cool of the evening. falling dew, passing cars, distant echoes of cicadas.
i’m not ill but my kronan is sick and i don’t have the cure… hauling it in for last-minute repairs… damn it.
an unplanned survey of abbot kinney boulevard reveals that there is a total absence of public places to sit. not a single bench. : (
coffee with the jesus, goddamn it. at the groundworks on main. holy FUCKING CRAP, the sun is glorius today.
admiring the herbs & baby leaf lettuces in tiny pots at the venice farmer’s market brings such a feeling of optimism.
shooting in venice! outside the jesus’ apt. on broadway! squadcars, flashlights, smashed car window, blood on seat. (jdf at work, btw).
picked up treats at nijiya market (before i stumbled upon the shooting). never tried a natto roll before. a supremely tasty discovery.
ah, kcrw’s raul campos starts things off with paris (the twitter song).
southbound, january 2009
funny how LA is such a densely-packed metropolis yet i can co-exist in my own hermetically sealed bubble. not practical on a thursday night.
two questions: does norwegian goat cheese on rice crackers qualify as lunch? and wtf is “beaner time”? it sounds kinda uncool and racist.
as i walk along horizon avenue, a steroid-addled grey squirrel gamely performs spiderman leaps from hanging birdfeeder to post to branch.
methodically eating mustard greens and watercress after midnight while listening to dancehall is not such a bad thing.
post futbol, cold sweat, and one order of cocteles de camaron y dos tacos des pescados from la playita on lincoln. now to get home!
brisk and oh so chilly an evening to be running beneath the stars by downtown l.a. hey! there’s charlie! pass me the ball!
ahem, am i the last person to discover that the “new” ice cream shop on abbot kinney is not a chain and is, in fact, owned by 2 young danes?
wow, a twitter film re: bras or no bras, freeballing at home & visits from the gas co. guy. the plot begins to sound a bit suspect & tawdry.
anyone see/hear the plane crash at the santa monica airport? sorry to hear that there are fatalities. weird day for traffic & travel.
3 female friends loudly ‘chat’ nearby about the merits of going bra-less. i shyly avert my eyes & pretend not to have heard a word.
back in the venice apartment! would never have suspected an earthquake. now inspecting renovations that were done while we were away.
approaching venice, wondering what items lie broken on the floor after friday’s earthquake. shattered wine glasses? books on the floor?
rusty tin roofs & rolling hills of green fields; vineyards, highway billboards, hedgerows, overpasses & steel battalions of power lines.
dos tacos des pescados in a quiet taqueiria just off the pier in the slighty threadbare, somewhat derelict village of pismo beach.
… caught in a tornado’s path in salinas, kansas, climbing the prairielands at night then seeing the towering rockies in the moonlight.
just passed the madonna inn.
roadtrips call to mind other roadtrips: the all-night chain-smoking drive from harlem to oberlin college back in 1990 - to name one.
other roadtrips of yore: a hasty late night departure from la rondalla in san francisco that ended on the morning shores of big sur.
skyline ridge near bonny doon. on talk of the nation, sarah lacy, speaking on co-working, just said “learnings” (bona fide SYPspeak).
winter in san francisco is perhaps my preferred time to spend here. alas, the days went by so fast. today i must turn south. fare well.
the estrada & i have just moved to hold the next annual summit, a date to be determined, possibly the second sunday in february. hmmn.
the dogpatch afternoon takes my breath away. extended shadows, bold sky fading towards twilight. the cold, pull up your woolen scarf!
can’t believe i’m riding the SF muni again. the belching, hollering, cackling, coughing, perspiring sea of (c)rude humanity. deliver me!
happily ensconced at coffee bar… news of the collapse of iceland’s government hardly surprising… i mean, wasn’t this a long time coming?
james brown’s hysterics have driven me away from coffee bar. there’s only so much screaming & yowling that i can tolerate.
the year of the ox and the year of the water buffalo. and so it begins. on a cold brisk san francisco morning. speckless blue sky.
in shallow alto, touring adriana’s alma mater (stanford) as well as a slew of historical points of interest from her past.
riding our mountain bikes on the san andreas fault (if anything starts shaking, it’s ok to blame us). heading for upper crystal springs.