Right Place, Right Time.

Matt and I in SF.

APE at the Concourse.

This week has been sucked away into the twin distractions of out-of-state travel and the house-buying process. I don't want to say too much about the latter, since everything's complicated and up in the air, but the trip to San Francisco and APE was fun if not relaxing. I didn't spend much quality time there involved with comics stuff - just partying (of course), boozing and gossiping and guffawing. I met up with my old high school friend Dan and wandered the sunny streets, smoking and catching up and absorbing the beautiful city sights.

The gallery after-party. We escaped to a dive across the street for further merriment.

We're tourists!

In the last few days I've been witness to several small but noteworthy moments. I can chalk this up to being outside more, and to always noticing when little events catch my eye. Today while riding across the pedestrian bridge over I-5, I heard a strange whirring, ripping sound. I watched as a mattress and box frame whipped off the top of a loaded car passing beneath me and landed in the right-hand lane. I stood and watched as the little wagon pulled over and two men ran out and dragged their bed from the highway as cars dodged around them. I didn't know whether I'd see an accident, and luckily it became an anecdote and not a bad memory. Then there was the moment last week where I passed two teenage girls holding bottles-in-paper-bags on my way to a potluck at Heather's; the very moment I passed one girl, she leaned out and projected an arc of booze vomit into the street. Guess you had to be there. And while returning to Matt's brother Kevin's apartment in the Noe Valley stroller-and-designer-dog neighborhood, we were lucky enough to witness a man offer his umbrella to a girl walking near him as the rain began to fall. The two strangers huddled together and walked quickly up the sidewalk, and I flashed forward in my imagination to their future grandchildren asking them how they met. There are so many little moments going on simultaneously in this world, and to catch a few peripherally on my own way through life is such a small but profound pleasure.

Up and Up.

After the shitstorm that was last week, things have settled down and are perhaps even on the upswing. Springtime makes it that much easier to see the positive; no matter how blackened your mood may be, when you leave the house and let the pink and green of your neighborhood settle into your vision and the sweet, lurid grass and pollen scents rush into your face - the crap just falls away. Good things are happening. The Willamette Week called me today to ask permission to run my image alongside a feature about the Sam Adams/City Hall show, so there's a reason to pick up that rag this week. And I don't want to jinx it, but we might have found our house today... just sayin'; we don't know anything yet.

I hadn't started a garden this spring in anticipation of moving, but I might still go out and throw some lettuce in the ground. The tulips I planted last fall are in bloom out back, more a source of cut flowers than for any landscaping use. I need to get outside and get physical with my hands and legs again, biking and dancing and digging in the ground. This Saturday we fly into San Francisco, and that will be a big social weekend - so this week will be more for me and my mind, getting both of us back into a state that welcomes events with hope instead of dread. A few days to remind myself of who I am and what I'm doing are sorely needed. SF pals, look for me at APE!

Matt's scooter was stolen last night.





It had a fork lock on the front, which means in order to roll it forward, someone had to drill the lock out. A better theory is that someone just loaded it onto the back of a truck. It could also have been put on a pallet and rolled somewhere close. These Vespas are not common, especially this original tomato-red color, so if you live in my neighborhood (Alberta/Mississippi/MLK) and see this scooter, please get in touch. It's not covered by our renter's insurance and Matt only had liability on it, not theft, so we won't be reimbursed for this.

We were leaving the house this morning to go look at a property and I just saw the crumpled-up tarps and motorcycle covers that had covered the scoot. The worst disappointment isn't that we aren't covered for this loss, it's more that there was a huge sentimental value for this ride because it reminds us both of the first few months we met and started our relationship. Though we hadn't been riding on it lately, we both have fond memories of meeting each other and falling in love on the back of this thing. I feel so violated that some fucking piece of shit came and took this away. I hope they rot in hell.

Under the Donut Tree.

Here is the newest print from our lovely kitchen-located studio. I'd had the pencils about half done on this one for the last two months or so, but on Sunday I just sat down and worked on it, and all day yesterday. It took quite a while, as this mother was about 18" by 13" and I hardly ever work that large, but it was worth it. Matt will be printing it today and I hope we can mix up the right colors - I want it to look like a children's book from the 30's.

We had plans to look at a condo this morning. I figured it would be a nice one to check out, since it had been on the market for a few weeks and the pressure would be lower. It sold last night. I'm getting to the point where I think I might have to take a little mental break from thinking about houses because it's severely affecting my moods. It's all I think about, and I usually end up completely or half-crying like a baby wherever I am (at home, out in public, on my bike). It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. I see a place listed and I imagine what I could do to it, what life would be like there. Then it sells and I have to drop all thoughts of it. I gotta stop for a little while. Maybe focus on some real problems, ha.

This is my hundredth blog post, by the way. Viva la Grindstone!