The Best Things in Life Aren't Things

It's been a busy few days back at home. After hosing 3 layers of sunscreen and dust from myself I managed a near solid night of sleep. Monday night was free movie night at the independent, so we wandered down, braving the dropping temperatures, picked up some beef teriyaki goodness from King Foot Subs, and watched No Country for Old Men on the big (ish) screen. I happened upon a listing for a lecture featuring Chris Ware and Art Spiegleman the other day. They are both really amazing artists, cartoonists and designers. It was beyond sold out, but I found someone through craigslist who was on her death bed via some sort of terrible virus, and couldn't attend. Lucky me +1.

It was pretty inspiring, to say the least. It's hard not to be sometimes.

On Tuesday, after reading an article on Mark Kozelek and his favorite SF hangouts, I got wandered over to the local antique mall, which I had no idea existed as it's hidden inside a bathroom tile warehouse.

It's a pretty interesting place. Loads of stuff, and just a representation of how much crap people accumulate over the years, and, furthermore, how much it seems to be worth to them. There were boxes of matchbooks, spoons, thimbles, snow globes, brooms...















Valve handles...

And all manner of junk. I came away with an old Ansco Rediflex camera and a busted up Kurt Vonnegut book for a dollar. I call it a score.

There was a myriad of other things that I could have come home with. In retrospect, I'm pretty glad I decided against this. Just checking it out, really. Could you imagine driving down the 101 with this sticking out of your trunk, twig and berries first?

Then it was off to see a pal of Lexi's. His band was opening for VHS or Beaver or something. It was alright, although I really hate going to shows unless it's something pretty spectacular. Lexi's pal looks like an unhealthy union between David Fricke and J Mascis which makes him a walking cartoon that's totally impossible to dislike. The club on the other hand was not nearly as endearing.

But I stuck it out, and now I'm off to play with a baby and eat some home-cooked grub. It was meant to be a pot-luck vibe with some friends, but I cheated and bought a loaf of garlic bread, a bottle of wine and a pecan pie. So there.