Wildfires from 35,000 feet.
I was exclusively concerned with Peewee Herman, Batman, and Edward Scissor Hands at the time the Gulf War was happening, but as I grew to learn about it as a teenager and further as an adult, the photographs of the burning oil fields always struck something in me. Towering columns of fire shooting up from the Earth, speckled across an endless horizon, burning day and night. I sometimes feel how those images look. Particularly, the unseen part. I feel like that oil deep beneath the surface. Not knowing how much is under there, but only that it’s being violently spent every minute of every hour of every day.
We headed up to the San Bernardino Mountains and rented a place for a few days around Lake Arrowhead to celebrate Alexis’ 33rd birthday with our friends and quarantine companions, Mike and Christina. I have no doubt if we weren’t in pandemic times we would’ve packed somewhere in the neighborhood of 30+ friends into some Mid-City bar to sing happy birthday to Alexis. We made out just as well though with only the 4 of us up on the mountain, even if my singing voice is a little off key.
We cooked, drank, gambled, embroidered, watched logs on the fire, and got plenty of sleep. It was one hell of a mid-thirties bender if I’d ever seen one. Think we could all say it was a much needed change of pace and scenery, and most importantly exactly what I think Alexis was looking for. I don’t like that we’re getting older, but I can’t complain about collecting memories like these.
The Sand Fire gave us Angelenos a glimpse at what the apocalypse is going to look a bit like.
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by The Platters.
This is my new standard. Art Director Linds Redding published these words in an article on his blog last March, and died of cancer the following October. The article is called A Short Lesson in Perspective and is one of the rawest pieces of writing I’ve ever read.
I’ve gotten out of bed In the middle of night to remove art I just published, out of fear of upsetting people by morning. Fuck that.
If I truly believe in what I’m doing, and I do, then I shouldn’t ever feel sorry for the things I do here. I can offer no apologies. Close your eyes if you have to. This is my new standard. We’ll see if I have enough spine to honor it.
“Dissatisfaction is a symptom of ambition. It is the coal that fuels the fire.”
I Can See The Pines Are Dancing by A.A. Bondy.
Clash of the titans.
