I turned 20, and then I went to a trip with one of my classes to Angelo Field station up north on the eel river. There is an old house from the early 1900’s that’s standing decrepit in a field, with bats living in the wall paper, bat guano every where, and creepy rooms of darkness and old mouldering things.

My folks. Don’t quite know what they’re up to.

The restaurant we went to, NOPA (north of the panhandle….what a name), is populated by bank-makin’ yuppie 20 somethings, but they have really fucking good food there, and damn good drinks, too.

May drinks espresso at 11pm cos she’s tough like that.


Jump-cut to crazy decrepit bat guano house. I had fantasies of wild photo shoots involving heaps of half-naked nubile youths. Uhhhhhh

There were old jars of listerine from 1920, and hair grease, and many other such treasures.

Jesus crookedly watching over poop and old ghosts of people doin’ it.

At this point some bats dive-bombed my head, and to my childish and geeky joy I discovered that there were both short and long eared bats living there. SO COOL

This gnarled apple tree had a crazy bole that you could see things through, like the wild turkeys in the meadow going “goblegarblegobgobblelbele”.

I am not too good at making witty or even interesting captions at this point, sorry.

I was in Paris for the last week of March. I don’t really know how it all happened, but there I was, camera in hand (no light meter? no problem…), pastry in mouth. Captions later. Thanks for the camera, Bob.

Ta gueule!