Dumb Nostalgia: The Power of Negative Thinking

I'm back in SF after a busy couple of weeks involving tears, booze, cursing and violence that has come to mark even the most civil of holiday seasons. It is cold and rainy today. I really wish that it were not. I have missed the worst of it, it would seem, between the unprovoked tiger attacks and gale-force winds that have been plaguing the city as of late. It has been a good day to slip on some gucci loafers and finish reading the steinbeck novel that I got for christmas. That's right...Gucci loafers.

Yesterday it was sunny as all get-up though. Just the way it should be.

I went and had some brilliant Burmese food last night...damn burma superstar.

And then went to see Juno on the recommendation of several people who may remain nameless. It was a real kick in the pants, in that it was not so good. It was so charming and contrived that it made me a little sick, or maybe I just don't jive with 'heartwarming.' It would have been a total washout if my old pal kimya hadn't done the music for it, and if the bathrooms at the theatre weren't so cool.

I am still in awe of the California Christmas. For the third straight year I have taken a walk on the beach on Christmas day instead of shivering in a tiny apartment in New York. It has done remarkable things for both my outlook on life and my appreciation of this godforsaken holiday.

Those rolling Monterey hills. It's nice to have an image to put to a Steinbeck book after all.

I spent just about a week in North Carolina over New Year's. It was magical and all, but mostly just relaxing. This is my dad's license plate. Honest.

I toughed it out at the newly acquired spot in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It's an amazing log cabin amidst acres of christmas tree farms.

It was, however, eight degrees at one point and a bit snowy for my liking. My skin has gotten pretty thin this last year, and I'm generally a pretty miserable person when it's not 70 degrees and sunny with a mild westerly wind blowing ever so slightly, not to mention snow.

I had a good couple days roaming around my old hometown. I slept, ate good food, walked, hung with the dog...

... learned how to knit (well, learned how to shape yarn from a ball into something that resembles a torn sock) and saw my sister off to Costa Rica. All in all not such a bad time at all. Before I left I got some pictures of this old church that is on its way out. I thought it was interesting that there was a big sign on the front door saying 'condemned.' People usually go to church to escape that sort of thing. Ho hum.

Sepia makes it sadder, I find.

I sometimes leave a trail of unpleasantness in my wake, magnetic poetry be damned.

It was only a fleeting moment, but at wholefoods yesterday, between the fresh rosemary and soy milk, the scones and the recycled paper towels, I realized that I am walking a narrow, pretentious path that I have grown to hate in other people. It feels like slipping into a demographic. At least I am aware of it, step two is washing it off. So it goes.
That aside, I also had some rather grandiose plans involving an escape to Mexico, where it is currently not raining and has an 85 % chance of being rather amazing. My passport is still, unfortunately, in limbo between passport agencies as I'm waiting to get work visas for the impending trip to Australia and New Zealand at the end of next month. While I have just about 2 months off without the promise of a retainer I am effectively chained to this part of the world without any hope of leaving (for business or pleasure) without my passport. At least I have a few weeks in an Australian summer with some pals to look forward to. Then I'll be stabbed and shot at in South America. Not sure if I'm prepared for that sort of heartache not to mention the filth and depravity.

I give Brazil the bird.