the sign of the beast

My birthday-brother Tim and I lived to see another year, so we decided to celebrate a little early by gathering about 50 of our nearest and dearest in Briones regional park for a weekend of springtime debauchery. 20 of us biked there, the rest rolled up in cars, we climbed the bodacious hills around us, corn-hole was played, and we stayed up into the wee hours grilling and singing songs surrounding the raging fire in the roundhouse. Then another friend who shared our birthday arrived, completing the ultimate trifecta: 666. As good an omen as any.


My faithful steed.

The reason I take pictures is because of my mom – I grew up cutting the borders from the black and white prints drying on the newsprint strewn across the kitchen floor of our little moscow apartment (they had converted the bathroom into a darkroom). Paul says our “styles” are similar – go figure. Here are a few shots she took earlier last summer at a gathering in Ukiah.

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