Memorial Day. First time taking the Expo line all the way to the water.
My Uncle Tony, technically my Great Uncle, passed in April. I’d bet anything he’d want to be celebrated, not mourned. So I’m gonna try my best here.
No matter what room he was in, his laugh was the loudest thing in it, and he was always laughing. He slept with a few thousand refrigerator magnets under his mattress because he said it helped his back. He was a character to say the least.
When we’d show up to visit, between my brother and I, he’d give one a BB gun, and the other a spear tied to one of our ankles. He’d tell us to go have some fun and catch something. He had a dock out back where the waters eventual led to the Gulf of Mexico. There was always a lot of fishing.
I learned for the first time I could swim without sinking in his pool. The same pool he told my brother and I had the “red dot” technology, so he’d know if we ever peed in it. We were mortified.
He and my dad would take us to watch the greyhounds race at the track. We always had ice cream and Uncle Tony always had a cigar.
He gave me my first magnifying glass and my first pocket knife. Still have the magnifying glass. He gave us a lot of great memories, the kind you never lose.
He died on a cruise ship in the Caribbean. Honestly, I can’t imagine a more fitting way for him to go. He was a man full of life, till the very end.
Godspeed Uncle Tony.
My brother and I on Uncle Tony’s dock.
The most magical place on earth is a little more magical after some cold refreshments.
Geographer at the Teragram Ballroom in Los Angeles.
This is How We Walk on the Moon, covered by Geographer.
Had a few people over Easter Sunday to help us drink some Champagne. We either bought too much, or they weren’t much help.
A Valentine’s day tradition.
Our first ride through the neighborhood on her new bike.
Oscar the frenchie. First met him when he was no larger than a balled up t-shirt. I can also remember seeing the first signs of gray in his beard. He was my old boss’s dog, but it wasn’t long before he became the studio mascot.
He peed while walking in zig-zags, creating something Jackson Pollock inspired by the time he was done. He dragged his paws when he walked, and I swear sometimes he’d just exhale and roll his eyes at you. Eyes that pointed in two completely different directions. He was a lazy, ridiculous, charming dog, that everyone loved because he made everyone smile.
So long bud, you’re already missed.
Alexis got me a telescope for Christmas and I thought this warning tag was kinda funny.
Christmas 2015 at Mike and Christina’s.
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.
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.
I made Alexis again, she dislikes it. I think it’s pretty spot on.
Brace yourself, this whole rant is going to sound a bit dramatic.
I don’t care what anybody says, going bald sucks. Especially in your early twenties. When I had the realization that I was losing my hair at the fresh age of 24, it was the first time I realized that I wasn’t gonna live forever…
Like I said, this is going to sound a bit dramatic.
Of course no one lives forever, but when you’re that young, you really do feel invincible. At least I know I did. But now I had this constant reminder of my mortality. A reminder that time was passing and that I was getting old. Not to mention the feeling of a waning identity. Thinning, receding, balding. It doesn’t get better, it just get’s worse. It’s chronic.
I fought like hell. Slathered lotions and potions on my head, adjusted my diet, and did enough reading on the topic to probably deserve a certificate of some sort. But by 30, the same haircut I had for the past 6 years had slowly but surely just become a combover. Yikes.
So on my 30th birthday I walked into the barbershop and asked for a buzzcut. Decided if I have to keep going through it, I didn’t want to do it kicking and screaming, trying to hold on to something I already lost. I want to go through it with grace.
Was it for the better? Was it for the worse? Am I being dramatic? Absolutely to all of the above. All I can honestly say is, I don’t feel like I’m hiding something anymore, and that feels really, really good.
At the end of the day it’s only hair, and there are infinitely worse things out there. I’ve got a lot of wins in my life that I hardly deserve, so I’ll take a few losses. Or even a full head of them.