One Step Behind You

The last two days have seen a pretty dramatic change in seasons. Back East the start of Fall, and the last few days often mean falling temperatures, dying leaves and maybe a week of the most reasonable temperatures all year. Here it means that the fog disappears and the sun burns hot, hotter than most of the year, through the month of October.

The sky has been totally striking, and it makes me feel like a criminal for being indoors.















The calendar in my kitchen has been bursting with obligations all month long. This could be why I never got around to learning how to play the banjo or make tie dyes at home. Well, some obligations are less painful than others I suppose.















It was Kate's birthday this week. Nick wrangled up some folks at the Tonga room (where it would appear that the actual ruins of a 100 year-old merchant ship have been dissected and turned into a Tiki bar). I drank more rum than I care to recall out of something that looked not unlike a giant, tropical toilet bowl. 



















The Frieda Kahlo exhibit is on for a few more days at the MOMA. It was absolutely rammed, but was the largest collection of her paintings that I had ever seen in one place. I was really drawn to this study of her family tree that she had done in the 30's.  How amazing would it be to labor away on a portrait of your great-grandmother? This dude, deep into his audio tour, snapped my inspired trance in two.



















The second floor of the museum was under some sort of construction, but the line was still filed through the mess. Most people stopped for a moment to ponder the trio of scissor lifts in series, or try to read into the plaque that said 'pardon our dust.' I guess art is what you make of it, or maybe what you can be convinced of.















I made my second pilgrimage to the doctor (preceded by my second visit to the dentist where we discussed the pros and cons of gold teeth). I picked up the rather brief, curt results of my physical from someone who was not my doctor (though I can hardly lay claim to a man that I see for 15 minutes every 3 months). I was given a clean bill of health, and while that sounds like something my grandmother might say, it technically means that I'm in decent shape. Not that I'm really surprised, but I've done my fair share of damage to myself over the years. The doctor, in an evident hurry and not interested in discussing the finer points of my stool sample said 'is there anything else?' Being that I had logged in approximately 7 minutes of actual doctor-patient time I sighed and said 'yeah, write me a prescription for some ambien.'















And then for some reason my blood pressure spiked on the way out. Strange.















While I was downtown I wandered over to The Cartoon Art Museum which I've had intentions to visit since I moved to SF. It was really, really great. After having been through what seemed like an industrial drier cycle filled with about 400 people and 75 Frieda Kahlo paintings it was nice to be the only person in a museum and to be able to walk up to a big Peanuts strip or stare at a Bill Watterson drawing for a while.















Saturday is the grand opening of the Academy of Arts and Sciences in Golden Gate Park. Jake and I might cross paths although it's free and likely to be filled with folks as amped as I am by stuffed zebras and carnivorous plants. I'm pretty excited to have that down the street from my house, but right now I'm trying to find a good sports bar nearby that is showing the debate tonight. Seriously, take a running fuck at that guy.



















I got all fired up last night watching some old Neil Young stuff on Vh1. I think it was bits of 'Live Rust,' where he's all tattered flannel, little bald patch, and appeared to be rocking in the free world. Next month should be a blast as we're doing a solid dozen shows with him in the US and Canada (and also in Regina, which is pronounced like vagina, maybe they have t-shirts, I'll check). I wonder if I could convince him to play me to sleep every night with selections from The Dead Man Soundtrack. I am really trying not to think about The Bridge School lineup though which is usually pretty stellar. This year someone has really driven down the curb appeal by adding Jack Johnson, Josh Groban and a presumably acoustic ZZ Top performance. Shocking. 2 more days at home for me, and then more time than anyone has ever wanted to spend in Chicago. I'm about to get well acquainted with Kamil's couch.