feather2pixels

I ended up accepting Indy Sarah’s press pass to the Shins show and so on a cold Wednesday night I found myself eastward bound in a taxi down Market Street with her. I was excited; the Shins are good and the Shins are popular, but I had never seen them play and thus couldn’t fully commit to liking them.

We arrived in the middle of the first song, which according to band policy, meant that I had two and a half songs left during which to take pictures via my photo badge. They passed in approximately twenty seconds.

It was about then that I realized I have no idea who these musicians are, much less what they look like. It was a truly disappointing moment. Not that the performance was bad in any way, but it made me realize that all that I know about this music, which I supposedly like, is recordings–just another way to suck the experience out of life. Lots of people before me have expressed that sentiment at concerts but it’s my big thing now and maybe the experience of being behind the cameras cast it in full relief. Anyways, in addition to the digital, I also managed to lug the Polaroid along and by luck snapped this remarkable shot of James Mercer in what looks to be the bowels of hell.

So the verdict: The Shins’ are good performers and their music is intelligent and well-balanced, the logical result of a natural selection process operating on a sea of shitty indie bands, weeding out the undesirable characteristics in a lucky few. The problem is the Shins don’t move me. Until the encore, that is, when they came onstage, harmonicas in hand, and played old shit lithe way Neil Young would have. And sometimes two songs can make a show.

Then I accidentally let Indy Sarah use my chapstick and she gave me a virus.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I teach aboard the ship. When I step aboard, the federally-mandated security officer always greets me with “how’s it goin’, teach.” It might be one of the best things about my job. As far as today goes, I foresee a lot of hermitting in my office with the door closed. My big interview in on Tuesday. I should know about the summer soon (to sail or not to sail).

For the time being, Morgan Jameson and Indy Sarah are both out of the picture. While this is obviously what was supposed to happen, many questions remain unanswered: why did i push away what i could have for what i could not? Does something good automatically become something bad? Do I posses the ability to take control of my life? At any rate, now I will need to invent new ways to feel sorry for myself. Thank God Fall Out Boy just released a new album.

For the second week in a row, Phanna and I defied all odds to win trivia night alone. I wouldn’t mention it if it weren’t the best thing tha happened all week. Not just the Pig Buck, but hanging out with Phanna–he told me that he’s finally ready to start being human again, which certainly sounds like good news.

There is absolutely nothing good about text messaging.

Big postcard developments are happening. Get excited. I got a backing coat on a series of two hundred forty last night at silkscreening. I also got covered in blood red acrylic. My workshop-mate, Joanna who has a sloped pointy nose and a soft touch, was working on a valentine for her boyfriend. I really liked the way they came out and convinced her to donate one to feather2pixels. Apparently, her boy friend is really into pork. Do you see why I am so excited about silkscreening?
Anyways, it’s a symbol of the first of several predicted stupid, fucked-up situations that I will be torturing myself over in 2007: one valentine, two women. It’s not a simple situation and feather2pixels has been vague about details. In the hopes that I can finally shut the fuck up about it:

Morgan Jameson is bad bad bad news. It’s hard to imagine what good can come of my dealings with her.

“you want to be close to me and i have a problem with that. i
have a problem with anyone wanting to be close to me. i know
this. this doesn’t mean there’s anything i can do about it. you
seem to think this has something to do with you but it doesn’t.
at some later point i’ll feel better about life and i’ll feel better
about myself and i’ll feel more secure and optimistic, and then
i’ll be ready to open up to someone. but that’s just not right now.”

Hmm. You would think that would be the final word, but the fucked-up begets the fucked-up and she surely needs my attention (which, given the proper circumstances, is not effected by such secondary concerns as my job, life, and happiness) as much as I crave her breath on my shoulder. I am crazy about her.

Sarah is gentle, active, and stable. It’s hard to imagine someone with more positivity to offer.

The polarity of the situation was recently pointed out to me. I have all the power with one girl and none of it with the other. But relationships are not supposed to make you feel dreadful. It’s obvious that I am a classic control freak–it got me to California–but what precisely is the noxious relationship in the acids of my brain between power and love? Who will receive the pork valentine?

God dammit, I totally lost a blog post. The gist of it was that I had the most action-packed weekend in recent memory.

Critical Mass wasn’t quite rained out on Friday, but I would say that the mass wasn’t quite critical enough. I got there (The Ferry Building at 18:30 on the final Friday of each month) late and joined a group of maybe twenty other stragglers for a subcritical mass. Subcritical Mass was in some ways more fun but noteably more dangerous than real Critical Mass–there aren’t enough bodies to stop traffic and at one point a Honda Prelude came within a foot of hitting me head on at forty-five miles per hour as we biked the wrong way down Folsom Street. We finally found the main group, but it didn’t really have enough people to form a collective conscious. Instead we were a bunch of indecisive assholes, tentative at every intersection, and I biked home to work on feather2pixels.com.

So: feather2pixels.com: check it out. I guess this is my best stab at a first draft. Everything you need, nothing you don’t. Not that anyone needs any of this crap. I feel good about the modest format, though even this laughably little took me months to program. I can’t escape computers.

So after blowing $10 on a misloaded film cartridge, the old Polish dude at Action Camera in West Portal showed me how to properly load my new Polaroid on Saturday morning. After producing a few successful shots, I say “I can’t believe I waited till I was twenty-seven to pick one of these up.” Every frame looks like it was taken in in 1976!

That night, after finding my favorite Dylan album on vinyl, I made it back to the Exploratorium for a sound festival, which was a little disappointing by Exploratorium standards, but I saw some old friends and I felt very cool to be known at the greatest science museum in the world. A pepperoni and mushroom pizza with a pitcher of Bud was enjoyed afterwards at Vincent’s.

Sunday started with a surprisingly solid breakfast in North Beach followed by a hike in the Marin Headlands. I’ve never actually hiked there, but the hills smelled strongly of Calfornia and the Pacific was sparkly from the summit. There are endless clusters of abandoned forts up there, decaying in the caustic fog sixty years after the Japanese didn’t invade. A murder of crows kept their eyes on us as we climbed through the ruins and wished that I had bothered to bring along my new camera.

This is Sarah:

After three unsuccessful attempts to find Rocky II at area video stores, I met Krisitin at the Sunset Baskin Robbins. We settled for the original, which wasn’t really a bad thing. And there you go: an exhausting, exhilarating, perfect week. A model for what I want out of life.

Thursday. Trying to remember what I do on Thursday. Get up early, for one thing. Like, last semester early. And after an initial week of superhuman energy I have been sleepwalking through the rest of the month. It didn’t help that I started drinking on Monday this week.

Here are some uninteresting things about my life:

-Lost at trivia last night. Not just lost: last place! What the hell? Things better get back to normal quick.

-Burned up about a gallon of gasoline in 1988 Volvo, riding three miles across town to watch “An Inconvenient Truth” at the Independent movie night with Corinne and Rinne. Awesome awesome awesome.

-Won the lottery.

-And for now I am living up to my 2007 resolution of averaging one movie a week. I caught “Romantico” with the Valeri family on Tuesday after an all out suhsi orgy in the old neighborhood. Remember that I am tired? I embarrassingly nodded off and for a moment got to be the guy who was snoring at the movies.

-Speaking of the old neighborhood: SF changes so fast. I realized that on one block of Polk Street, 75% of the stores had been replaced from the time I moved there in 2003. Businesses that stay are the exception, not the norm.

-I finally have an idea for the fourth postcard. I am realize my dream of a three-stage print.

-My healthy relationship is going great and I think I may have won the upper hand in my unhealthy relationship. But did I fuck up my last emai?