Keep the Streets Empty for Me.

It was too good to last I guess. We had weather in the 60s for a week or so. Now SF is blanketed with cold, wet fog which seems to be the city's usual barometric resting point as per my experience. It's just such a stark contrast to the occasional and brief warm California sunshine that makes me glad to be alive. Now the biting wind stings my cheeks when I walk outdoors, and all of the housplants are starting to look a little bit dead.



























The cold and relative lack of any sort of daily structure in my life right now has made me a bit of a shut in this past week as well as mopey, sentimental and generally moody. I caught up on some reading and got heavily involved in watching comcast's horror movies on demand. Following my old therapist's advice I decided to bake my way out of it, and made some chocolate and coconut macaroons. I feel slightly more focused and am remarkably less inclined to smash things, but it might just be all the sugar. Tomorrow I think I am going to make bread or maybe a souffle.















After failing repeatedly to conquer the public transportation system the other night I rode my bike out to see The Wrestler. It was a good one. Aronofsky wins again. In something totally unrelated my dad found an exact copy of this Chewbacca trading card that he used to have in his pickup when I was a kid. He tracked it down for my old truck, and says it's a good totem because Chewbacca doesn't talk much and can fix just about anything. I put it on my dashboard the other day. Looks to me like the patron saint of hair care and auto repair. Chewbacca by the dashboard light.















I found this old belt at a used clothing store on Haight the other day. I bought it (along with a Morris the cat t-shirt, but that's a story for another time) initially for the belt buckle. It's a heavy brass affair involving an eagle soaring through the clouds with a broad setting sun in the background. I'd say it's pretty difficult to go wrong with that.















I was going to chop it up and use the buckle for something else, but I thought the belt was kind of cool, but a bit dirty and actually smelled a good deal like rotting vegetables. I washed the leather in some baking soda and found that most of the dirt came off revealing not only a pattern of hand drawn stars around the front, but an inscription on the back, from Marla to Mark. Lexi and I speculated on the possible outcome of Marla and Mark's relationship, and how such a decent gift could have ended up in a ratty vintage shop. Either way I am certain of 2 things: I scored a deal on a good belt, and I'm going to start leaving notes for people inside their belts.















It was also Nick's birthday the other night, so a few of us got together for burbon and fondue at Luna Park. It was good times. My belly and I love a good birthday party.















Afterwards I went up to North Beach to catch up with Andre and Hadley who were out doing a few shows with The Raveonettes. After laughing at Lars Ulrich's name above mine on the guest list I ran inside. As it worked out I made it in with just enough time to hear the last half of the last song. Solid. We had a few drinks and caught up, and everything was right with the world. When I got home I realized that I had ebayed the shit out of an auction for this Leica digital that I'd been coveting for ages. Score.















If it ever warms up I am going camping.