04/10/2009

San Jose graveyard


We walked downtown today. It's about four miles away. We took the bus back. The afternoon rain had started by then plus we didn't want to go back down through hell's bottleneck, that's what I call it, the ravine below the graveyard. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, we were about a foot away from traffic the whole way through.



M. Lee took this photo of me before we hit that stretch of the road. We didn't know what we were headed into but even so I was wondering about the wisdom of smiling before an open grave.






Wild bananas over the cemetery wall.




Street kid, probably strung out on glue.



03/10/2009

Street dogs under a Harvest Moon


Tonight, night of the Harvest Moon, the muffled voices of three dogs playing in the street attract me to the balcony. They look up, wary for a moment, then quietly return to their play. They have the night and life to themselves. The street is a stage in amber light. A frustrated fourth dog shouts and whines from the wings as they trot out of sight.

Outtakes


Naturally, we must start the journey with the standard... photos from the plane.

LA night. Just so you know, capturing the red flashing light on the wing tip was really really hard but you're worth it.


Morning star, Guatemala


Guatemala sunrise


Strange fruit, Costa Rica


Man and bird, San Jose Saturday market day.


02/10/2009

Arrival

We were met at the San Jose airport by Jim, our host. He was carrying a bouquet of red carnations for me but, luckily, managed to do it without being embarrassing or serious. And already he and his wife Bibi have made us feel completely at ease in their lovely B&B/home a feat because it is not at all in keeping with our usual, preferred funky style, but more about that later.

Besides us, there are also a couple of permanent residents living here, both named John, both American expats. One is a guy, turned poet in later years, who hung out in the North Beach clubs during the '50s so, almost undoubtedly, heard M. Lee's dad play back in the day. Yes, we had a mini poetry reading over breakfast coffee, sticking to a couple of poems each. We have very different styles but it was fun.

The dogs are barking at the wind tonight. It howls restlessly over the rooftops. It's the rainy season here but there has not been much rain. We're going to the Saturday market in the morning. I'm sure it won't be as interesting as the Mayan market in Antigua but we'll get some fresh vegetables and I'll get some photos.

30/09/2009

We're sitting at RenoX waiting to board a Southwest flight to LAX and after that we leave for Costa Rica at 1:30 am. It's going to be a long night. There was lots more running though my head earlier but it's gone now. I forgot my (favorite) pink shirt and left my water bottle in my friend's car. It could be worse. Maybe it is but it's too late now. After much deliberation, Buug was elected to accompany us. He's delighted. That little fellow loves to travel. Well, gotta go.



27/09/2009

Through the looking glass


Bugsy in the backroom

By the end of the day my bag will be packed. That is my promise to myself. In the meantime, for your entertainment, I posted a few more photos from our recent trip to the Great Basin at flickr ... if you're interested. I'll post more here later, after my bag is packed.


Defunct Currant Cafe
Currant, Nevada




Currant is a ghost town along Nevada's Hwy 6, a road that makes Route 50, the so-called "Loneliest Highway in America", look like a traffic jam. The Currant Cafe and Motel are currently one of Mother Nature's little reclamation projects. It's my kind of place.


Currant Cafe, on Nevada Hwy. 6 

Currant Cafe, a once friendly stop along Nevada Hwy 6, the real "loneliest highway".


Currant Cafe, caught in the looking glass


Currant Cafe, a lost world


Currant Cafe interior


Currant Cafe through the looking glass

Currant Cafe, another dead Nevada roadside attraction

25/09/2009

Costa Rica countdown



Five days. I only have five days now to pack. Five days to do all the things I could have done five days ago. Should have done ten days ago. And so it goes. And yesterday, what did I do with yesterday? Burned the whole day ... out ... when I should have been home, preparing flash drives and backup flash drives, sorting through clothes and pencils. Damn.


22/09/2009

Looking back




My mother's diary sits on a shelf next to my morning sitting place. It is red and has a little brass lock and key. Had a little brass key. That is long gone. My brother gave me the book a few years ago saying, "Here. See what you can do with this." He gave me her little black diary as well and a couple of faded old, fancy candy boxes full of letters, some written by her and some by other members of the family. A few of the letters are over one hundred years old, written in pencil, and still readable. I get a deliciously strange feeling reading them. He had them for years and could never bring himself to go through everything. I have yet to do it myself but, by chance, I peaked at her September 22nd entry this morning. She was 18. Today was Sunday in 1935, following a very late Saturday night. She wrote. "Speaking of the last roses of summer - I know just how they feel."


20/09/2009

Swami and Bugsy


Morning chat at the Currant Motel.

Swami has friends all over the world.

I still don't have time to post photos from the Grant Range trip. I realize that must nearly ruin your day but this one of Swami and Bugsy lounging at the Currant Motel will have to do for now. I am very in the rears on all that but, at the moment, I must finish a newsletter. It's not anything interesting, just a vehicle for minutes and a treasurer's report, but I try to add something extra each time. It's crazy though. I was up past midnight last night looking for the right image that will, at best, get a passing glance. Can't help it. Anyway, we're leaving for Costa Rica on the 30th and I haven't even begun packing. My brother and his wife pack about an hour before they leave for the airport. Experienced travelers, they. Also, where they go, they can count on buying whatever they need. Not always so in Central America. The neighbor over the back fence is blaring Country Western in his yard, which kind of fits the mood of this blue sky September morning. I hope you are making the most of your day. It's what we've got. Today. Nothing more or less.

18/09/2009

Nevada resident


We're back from five days in the Grant Range. I'm on the run but will post more photos later. We saw lots of wild life, including this shy fellow who wasn't at all happy about being photographed. I shouldn't have done it. Harassing wildlife is lame and, with rattlesnakes, stupid but I forgot both manners and sense when he came by.


11/09/2009

Home away from home


We're in Tonopah for the weekend.


Again.

Downtown Tonopah without the
Mizpah, Nevada's most haunted hotel,
as the centerpiece.

This is my 13th assembly here in seven years. On the surface nothing's changed much although, since we were here last, the town has put up a spiffy new official sign on 395. You can see it in the first photo. And, by the way, the Mizpah Hotel will be on the auction block September 16th. That's just a few days away! Just think. It could be yours for a song.




The Ramada didn't have our reservation so we're at the Economy Inn for half the price, $35 a night. It's not as bad as it looks from the street plus it has free wi-fi and a great view if you like defunct mining/desert ghost town scenarios. However, the clowns next door carried on until 6 in the morning. Given the volume of their voices and the number of "fuck him, fuck thems and fuck hers" they had to be out of their pea brains on speed and booze.




The sticker on the windshield of the Mustang parked outside their door explains that the car is being moved from Vegas to Portland by a hired driver, so hopefully they are, by this time, gone. Otherwise the manager promised to move them to the front, a place he reserves for Assholes.


Desert elan

Of course, changed or not, I photographed the same old roadside apparitions we pass every time we take 395... Luning and Mina which are wide spots in the road which are well on their way to becoming ghost towns and a roadside brothel called Playmate Ranch.




You will be happy to hear they are all doing well, ie they are still inhabited.



Playmate Ranch (brothel)

White limo at gas station next door to Playmate Ranch



My favorite photos from the trip so far are of the fat, flat, white clouds drifting east although they suggest rain by Sunday, which is exactly when we head out into the Great Basin for a week of camping. Lovely. Well, rain here usually evaporates before hitting the ground but we shall see. We're leaving early tomorrow morning.


09/09/2009

Toulouse Lautrec


Today is the 108th anniversary of Toulouse Lautrec's death.

The artist

He died of complications from alcoholism and syphilis at the family estate in Malromé at the age of 36. A couple of years before his death he tried "drying out" but soon returned to hard drinking, despite a series of paralytic fits. According to Wikipedia, his last words were, "Le vieux con!" ("The old fool!") This was his goodbye to his father.


Self-portrait

I liked his work the minute I first laid eyes on it back in high school. And I suppose his glamorous depiction of the seamy Parisian nights in Montmartre, its brothels and, in particular, the Moulin Rouge, helped lock in my childhood notion that to be an artist one must be willingly and tragically lost. Certainly the fascination helped him to an early death. At least I avoided that.

Self-portrait at the Moulon Rouge


Salude Toulouse.

08/09/2009

Outtakes


Me! That's who wants to know.
Portland

Here are a few photos from the last few weeks. Locations range from Portland, Reno, the Mohave, and LA to the lateral universe wherein dwells the Invisible Theatre.


Baby Thea x 2


Glow Boy
Spice Rack, Indian grocery in Reno





Burning Man van



Carson City. NV





Mohave cloud



LA cloud
Station  wildfire



One last round of Bánh mì sandwiches
for the road from the pigeon friendly
Saigon Bakery in San Gabriel's new China Town



Perfunctory Hollywood sign shot.
See it through the smog way off, up on the hill?



Headed home


Mohave hills


~WINNER~
Bad Grammar Sign of the Day Award



Invisible Theatre
Uncle Monkey, Baby T and the Gang



07/09/2009

Baby Thea's big adventure


Corn for the critters and an amazing adventure for Baby Thea.


Larger format here.


06/09/2009

Home again


The graveyard, the Savannah Memorial Park Pioneer Cemetery, was a bust, by Nevada standards sterile and tame. It got a drive-by. We didn't even bother getting out of the car. Historic? Old graves. Okay. In America anyway but Z-E-R-O character. Now Nevada has graveyards. Desert crazed. Lovely. Lonely. Graveyards. If you are very quite, you can just make out, mixed in with the wind, lingering sighs.

Turns out the motel had coffee in the office after all, plus cold orange juice, danish in cellophane and free copies of USA Today. Makes up for the hair choked shower. We would definitely stay there again. The knock out feature was its incredibly thick walls. I really hate motels with thin walls. I do not want to be hostage to TVs and toilets and late night conversations through the wall. We did not hear a peep at the Rodeway Inn. Now Del Mar Ave. was another matter. Getting past that required ear plugs and Valerian root tablets.

Now we're home until Friday then off to Tonopah for the weekend then we're headed back out to camp in the Great Basin until Thursday.