Lolo Scheiner, Scott Thomspon, Owen Adair Kelley, Ruthie Knudsen, two brunchtime crooners, and one young man, solitary, lovely. Kodak Gold 200. Minolta x-700 & Canon AE-1

I worked NYE, having failed to realize it was in my contract when I joined HB last April, and essentially everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, so I spent the first hour or so of 2012 running around and trying to make the best of what was a night of continual equipment failures. In the end I drove home and curled, shivering, into bed, to wake the next morning to some astonishingly good weather. Lolo and I had planned to get brunch at one Temescal establishment or another, but when we set out on foot towards that bright stretch of Telegraph we stumbled upon some friends of hers, neighbours of mine, planning a gathering of their own. So Lo and I skipped (yes) the half-block back to my place, and a returned (walking, and a little more winded then we should have been) with tangerines and raspberries and raw goat cheese to offer up in the great feast that followed. I had a slice of what was probably the best quiche of my life, and people with whom to play music, and outside there were fetching twenty-somethings doing handstands in the middle of Clarke st. I could not have complained. 

We struck then upon the idea of an adventure, so we got in Lo’s car and drove North and then West, without any real destination, but with four grape lollipops in one of the cup-holders, a bag of dates, more tangerines, and a big bottle of sparkling water, which is all you really need. We got very excited about the idea of Bolinas, and somehow made it there before the sun had drowned itself completely, around that time of day when all the surfers have exhausted themselves and come streaming in from the shore. I would describe myself in that moment as being absurdly grateful for such good company and such beautiful surroundings. Also, full.

Since then I have mostly spent my days trying to remind myself that it is, in fact January. It’s hard not to forget. Today I walked maybe 15 blocks to pick up some film and took off three layers getting to the shop. I realize this is a sort of absurd and idyllic existence, that it is a little comical to spend this much time sitting around at farmer’s markets with Ruthie or laughing at Owen, who’s so good about making me laugh at myself. Scott is always playing his cello in the other room, which makes me feel happy, and also a little lazy. I’ve got some shows set up and I’ve got a block of cheese in my fridge that is so good I have to eat it straight, because melting it or putting it on something else would corrupt it. It is that good. A lot of things are that good, and most things that aren’t are trifling. 

Hi everyone.

Notes

  1. pforu posted this