Every morning I read a news digest that gives me the broad strokes of what happened in the world while I was sleeping. Every night I read it again, to learn what happened while I was working.
Mainly, it contains awful things, but it’s still my responsibility to read it everyday.
Sometimes breakthroughs in science, medicine and technology make it in. Articles about real progress. These articles make me happy.
But mainly, I read about people hurting and killing each other, in various scales. Day in and day out. It is troubling, and I can’t imagine it changing.
The best you can do, is harden your heart.
Dan bestowed “The Secret” to us all, on his 28th year of existence.
A rare video chat with some of my oldest friends, catching up over beers, across thousands of miles, sitting in Florida, Oregon, New York, Texas, and California.
The occasion was Dan’s 28th birthday, who I first met when I was 11 years old. His finance Dominique set the whole thing up and surprised him when she handed him a laptop with all of our faces on it.
Such a great feeling shooting the breeze with some of my truest friends.
An old idea, rehashed.
My old name tag from Albertson’s. Seemed fitting for labor day. My good friend Charlie worked there, and got me an interview when I was fifteen maybe sixteen. I was hired as a Courtesy Clerk. You did a lot as a clerk. You were asked to do what needed to be done where there was no one to do it. It was never the same from one day to the next. I spent time helping in almost every department. Cleaned toilets, buffed floors, stocked shelves, cleaned machinery, and froze working in dairy refrigerators. If there was something too heavy to be lifted for a customer or employee, they called the 135 pound kid over to handle it. It was 30 hours a week, the maximum allowed for my age. Full days every Saturday and Sunday and a few 3 to 4 hour days throughout the week after school. It was hard work, and by the end of the day, I felt it.
Mostly, I fetched shopping carts and loaded groceries I bagged into customer’s cars. Often helped load for elderly customers or mothers trying to manage one too many kids. Occasionally there were the able bodied eccentrics, who just liked to talk to strangers. Always got a kick out of reactions as I handled a customer’s eggs. You’d think I was moving an unpredictable stick of dynamite. The few minute walk from the checkout line to the car taught me how to make small talk. Weather was the typical topic. Customers were always curious to know if I was saving up to buy something specific, a car maybe. I always surprised them and got a few laughs when I said “retirement.”
A faulty moral compass kept me from accepting customer tips for a long time. My family, friends, and co-workers eventually convinced me I was insane for it. Think I made five or six dollars an hour. The job taught me the value of those dollars. I vividly remember sitting at Wendy’s on my lunch break, calculating in my head how much time the food I was eating cost me. I ate every crumb, and soon after started bringing my own lunch.
Collecting carts outside was my favorite. I didn’t have to talk to anyone. There was time to think. I taught myself to whistle out there. I always wore a wrist watch but once I learned that time liked to move faster when you didn’t watch it, I kept my eyes away from it. Instead, I liked guessing the time by eyeing how far the building’s shadow was cast across the parking lot.
I have more memories and stories from the job than I can fit here. It was invaluable to me and the most laborious job I’ve ever had, yet I worked every labor day I was there. In a strange way, I do miss it sometimes.
Shot at Sue Bierman Park in San Francisco, looking at the Bay Bridge. Recently there for a short work trip. Haven’t spent much time there before, just a day, years ago for a friends birthday.
I took the longest bus route I could find from the airport to my hotel. Wanted to take in as much of the city as I could. Spent the first day there scouting shoot locations. Essentially an all day walking tour. Spent the second day at the shoots, and that was that.
Fun to see and be part of the process away from my desk for a change.
Another CicLAvia with my good friend George.
Don’t really remember much of high school. I have more memories of my after school job than of school itself. Never thought it was important.
Ten years later, I can say with certainty, I was right.
The Parker, Palm Springs.
This site is a lot of things. One of them is a safety deposit box of sorts. Until the world falls apart and the internet takes it’s last dying breath, I have to believe that anything I put here, is here to stay. These words made their way to my inbox over four years ago, and I want them kept safe. They meant so much to me.
Inspiring is the best I can ever hope or wish for as an artist. It’s largely why I still share the work. Always thinking someone might find these thoughts and feelings I’ve bottled and sent drifting across the internet, and that it might mean something to someone. To quote Esme, it’s weird to think about, but totally awesome.