My girlfriend brought these flowers over for an Easter brunch we had at my apartment. I don’t have a vase, so we put them in my glass boot, which was a gift from my friends Anne and Andy. Typically it gets filled with beer, not flowers. When I saw it, It reminded me of how much I’ve slowed my drinking, and how much of a good thing that is.
Alexis. Drew. Magic Johnson’s Friday’s. LAX. San Jose. Terminal Drinking. More flying. My first stamp. Lima. Our apartment. Carolina. Sebastian. 4am 90s top 40. Taxis that weren’t taxis at all. Karaoke. Pisco sours. Sushi. Con permiso. Agua con gas. Agua sin gas. Tour busses. Catacombs. Chili’s. Our taxi ran out of gas. Ice cream. Another plane. Cusco. Our hostel. Cinemax. Michelle. Dancing in markets. Hiking. Hunted by wild dogs. Altitude sickness. Snickers grande. Canadian Irish pub. Dos mas please. A train. Aguas Calientes. Jurassic Park. Hot springs. Market bargaining. Machu Picchu. Touring. Hiking. Photo ops. Wonder. Naps. Rain. A late train. A missed bus. High-speed taxi driving. Intercepting and boarding our bus. Frostbite. Arequipa. Sand boarding fail. Rafting. Rafting rescue. Cerveza hunting. Bibs. Alpaca. Another plane. Back to Lima. More Chili’s. Ramada. Security cameras. More Cinemax. Another plane. San Jose. More flying. LAX. Mckenzie. Home.
That was my trip to Peru. Exhausting, but I wouldn’t do a thing differently. If this was difficult to grasp, then I described it perfectly. You really had to be there.
Royale, the company I work with, sponsored me and two others to attend the Style Frames design conference in New York City. I took in a lot from the experience, and feel truly fortunate to have had the opportunity.
It was my second, and longest visit to the Empire State. I spent most of my time in Manhattan. It’s an amazing thing to walk through its streets. Literally standing in the shadows of the achievements of men. I could see a contagious hustle about everything. Everyone moves with purpose. It’s inspiring. But even in all this wonder, I remember feeling most amazed at the sight of my own breath.
My apartment doesn’t have a washer or dryer, or even the hookups. So naturally, I kept a key to my old apartment complex. Twice a month, for a good three years, I ran their treadmills while I did my laundry. If you listen to your headphones loud enough, people know better not ask you what floor you live on.
Anyhow, they finally changed the locks on me. But now I’ve got a girlfriend kind enough to let me wash my clothes at her place. What’s funny is, mile after mile on that treadmill, for three years, she was always the one I was thinking about. I would daydream the impossible event of her falling for me. In reality, she hardly knew I existed. And now, I drive to her apartment, and she lets me up to do my laundry.
Taken at the LA State Historic Park during FYF, a two day music festival during Labor Day weekend. Givers played my favorite set of both days. It’s so inspiring to see and hear such talent. I remember standing there feeling like I needed to be somewhere else. Creating something of my own. Not just watching. But I truly enjoyed the set, and even more so the company. So I’m glad I wasn’t.
But still, I want to create more. I want to inspire.
They were playing Atlantic when I took this and they dedicated it to their lost friend Eddie. It was heartfelt. This girl’s voice could move a mountain.
Atlantic by Givers.
My Aunt Janet. She’s been so involved and supportive in just about everything I’ve done in my life, every step of the way. Seen me fail, succeed, short and tall. She is a person in my life that truly cares for me. Could never thank her enough for all that she’s done. Over the years, she’s taken me to see and do so many things that I otherwise may never have experienced. I wouldn’t be who I am without those experiences, and I wouldn’t be who I am without her.
My Grandfather, James Patrick Smith, when he was only 20 or so. Today he’s 80. But everyday, he’s one of the greatest, most influential people in my life. My family says I take after him, but I know I’ll never compare. He’s made entirely of good qualities. If I become just a fraction of the man he is, I’ll have done pretty ok.
Happy Birthday Gramp. Can’t wait to show you all the things I accomplish by your 90th.
The company I work with, Royale, had its holiday party at our studio recently. Doubled as a small gallery showing for our staff artists. Everyone submitted a lot of great pieces. I had thirty or so in the showing. Sizes varied from 8x8s to 20x20s. Some framed, some not. More sold than I’d expected and all the proceeds went to Charity Water. Its a great thing.It was strange putting my face to my art. Really don’t ever talk about it much. You wouldn’t know I do this unless someone told ya. I’m fortunate to have so many friends that appreciate and support what I love to do. Choosing guests was somewhere between a rock and a hard place. Couldn’t invite fifty people. In the end, it was them that made the night for me. Theres a whole mess of pictures on the new Royale Blog. All in all, a way fun and sincere night.
Charlie, Jess, Ryan and myself. Hadn’t seen these ones in years. Didn’t even know Ryan and Jess lived here in Los Angeles. Charlie and I grew up together. Met the summer between fifth and sixth. We’ve grown a lot taller and wider since, but here we are, in the same picture. Can’t help but smile thinking about the all things we’ve done and lies I’ve told my parents to do them. But I always made my curfew. Was glad to see my friend.
Kev and I. Known him over six years, four of those we worked together. Friday was his last day. He left to catch a dream. There’s no line I could draw or words I could write that’d get across how monumental he’s been to me. So I won’t. I’m glad he’s gone. He’ll finally shine so bright.
Me and my one and only brother, when we still ran wild, with the Gulf of Mexico to our backs. He turned Thirty last month, can’t wrap my head around it still. I’ve grown taller than him, but he’ll always be my big brother. He’s got a reputation for being quiet, but I think he just chooses his words very carefully, always respected that about him. I believe in him, and have pride in him, always.
My Dad, Montreal, September 1982 on a motorcycle trip. Only twenty-three here, but already married four years, and already a father. Makes me wonder sometimes what the hell I’m doing. Don’t think there was ever a time he wasn’t invincible. Nor will there be, and thats why hes my Dad.