ups and downs

Such is life.


No news is good news.


Discard.


I waited for the late-night bus back to Berkeley. The 2am didn’t come at all so I waited until 3am, on this especially windy corner of Market. The tree’s suffered far longer than I, however.


Night?


I saw this person while waiting for another late-night bus. I wanted to go to bed really bad, but it could wait.


Bop is a really peaceful sleeper.


Shadowy meditation.


“I got my pocketfuls of money.”


“I’m gonna spend it all tonight.”


“A whole month’s salary, I’m gonna set it to flames.”


They boarded up the fountain at the building where the magazine I work at is located. Good thing, I’d probably have to pee all the time.


There are no windows in the office. Just this natural light.


Deadline for Issue 14 is almost up. It’s crunch time.


Mmmm, wang fat.


Brushstrokes in the sky.


Color shift.


Nighttime fell and I had an idea for an adventure. Danilo agreed without any idea what we were going to do. He was in the dark. We were both in the dark.


But along the way we found a beautifully lit trash pile.


I decided it would be a great idea to go to an abandoned radio tower. We walked a dark path only lit by occasional camera flashes and scored by the creaking of eucalyptus. Hunter Jackson showed it to me one year ago. There used to be a hole in the fence. This time we had to scale the razor wire.


Those stairs laying on the ground used to connect to the next level. Not anymore.


We had to balance along the shaky expanses of corroded metal to work our way up to the next solid level.


Danilo wrote a song about the loss of a brother earlier that day and felt like it was a sign not to climb up.


I went on alone and made it to a set of stairs twenty feet up and climbed as the rest of platforms as they got smaller and smaller.


It’s way up there and it’s beautiful.


The veiled purpose of the outing was to hang a flag I made.


No claims. No manifest destiny. Just a salute.


And it flew.


Up up over darling San Francisco.

Party people and the place to be. It was really warm two Fridays ago. I went out after work and hoards of people were roving from party to party in the good neighborhoods of San Francisco. Here are a few I came across.


My old house at 573 Fell had a rager to celebrate Lin’s move to NYC.


Joya showed up to show love for Lin. That guy only gets out if the moon is right or the earth’s poles hit a specific variation.


Former residents, present friends.


Protection. . .


. . .from guys like this. My bad, I put him on the guestlist.


The fuzz broke up the 573 soiree, so I went up the street to see off Danilo’s roommate, Chad. He’s gone to Ghana now.


Do you know where that is, Danny?


Theodore was there. He might be the friendliest guy there is.


Deep rest.


There was some kind of glowing orb in the backyard. And I guess it brought me home because that’s pretty much the end of my night. Remember Flight of the Navigator?


After returning from Tahoe, Jessy and Kim came to visit from NC.


I had to work a lot and Ty doesn’t work at all, so he helped show them around.


We showed them his backyard.


Maybe based on the merit (if any) of this website, Mila asked me to shoot photos for SOMA magazine’s party. I made some pictures I really liked with a borrowed camera but I think I’m going to save them for the magazine. Except this one; it’s mine.


Still, I managed to snap a few on my little camera. Thanks for coming through, Hallie. Mobb Deep loves Hennessy and I love you.


Beckon the mighty wolf’s call.


The party consisted of four really good bands. The headliners were called Monsters are Waiting and the singer is a total babe. Her name’s Annalee and we are friends now.


Raiders of the Lost Ark played in Dolores Park on Saturday night. How rad is San Francisco? There were probably 10,000 people there all rooting for Indy.


The twilight was nice and help set the mood for some archaelogical adventures.


Kristi brought her dog Chiquita. She was a huge hit.


I don’t think I could own a dog that couldn’t fit inside my sweatshirt.


Hallie freaked out.


During the movie, she exclaimed, “This dog is so much better than boyfriends. You can cuddle and lick all you want and you don’t have to worry about holding each other in public.”


She was serious.


Thai Temple with the girls. It’s been a while.


Noelle ate mango sticky rice with us.


I think of all the things I’ll miss when I move from Berkeley, the CZ rooftops are of the top three.


Sliding at Cordo.


That waxed cardboard is no joke. It’s the Ferrari of cardboard. Zoooommmm.


I wake up sore, everyday, since I turned 24. But I still got it.

two days in Tahoe


Last time I was in Tahoe, I was on a bicycle sleeping in the woods. This time we piled high into a minivan and went up to Hilary’s cabin.


The cabin was built in 1969 and hasn’t been redecorated since.


I almost had to leave, then I remembered that I play by my own rules.


Damn ol’ Patrick shot the moon (scored all 5000 points) second try. He’s really really good at everything to point of infuriating others.


We went to Donner Pass just above Donner lake, where that family of dirty cannibals ate each other oh so many non-vegan years ago.


Most of the folks that I accompanied on the trip were climbers, so we went to a rock and attempted to sramble up.


Shannon patiently waited her turn and was incredibly good for her first time ever. “No hustling allowed.” Psssh.


I climbed for my first time. Super rad. I think I liked repelling down the best though.


Patrick’s really good at this too.


Hairlight.


Silhouette.


Where’s Shannon?


Blake and Anya showed up with some more friends. Although I’ve only posted pictures of Patrick and Shannon so far, there were actually about twenty of us.


Anya was so psyched to see us and climb. Like a puppy set free from the pound.


Anya kept saying “tnaki” instead of “i can’t.” I think it was some strange summer camp thing and it was totally weirding Patrick out.


Alex and Patrick work on their bird calls.


Dashielle and Hilary anchored up a big ‘un.


Touching the void.


I love a good sunset.


And so do they.


Anya says “love me.”


Word.


Getting mystical.


I always have to do this. Don’t know why.


Night fell back at the cabin.


Treetops.


We played a heated game of Apples to Apples and Blake was probably bummed by how diresome I beat him and everyone else.


I ate some pasta before we went for a night swim. Fifteen minutes my ass.


Skinny-dipping was great. We swam out to this floating dock and there was a large herd of nakee folk sinking ship. And there’s nothing like walking out of a lake naked and seeing a red-light and thinking, “goddammit.” Right, Patrick?


I snapped this as we were getting kicked out by a disgruntled neighbor.


Looks wholesome enough, right? Well after I went to sleep, they played a huge game of spin the bottle, strip poker and engaged in countless other unsavory acts. Or so I hear.


I slept well, but that creep Blake took a picture of me sleeping right before saying goodbye and running back to summer camp for the next month.


The next day we followed the signs to Hidden Beach on Lake Tahoe where only the locals go.


There was a dog and bird named Jo-Jo.


We became the best of friends.


Patrick refuses to be outdone, even by dogs.


Doug goes for it.


Making the most of boulders.


Everyone was still a little tired from all that bottle-spinning so they claimed their own islands and slept.


Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.


The dogs must’ve been part seal.


Delineating the crew.


Orange.


Crystal clear.


We went to a taqueria where they use ninja swords to cut the meat.


Patrick didn’t want to wear his wet panties so he just rocked the towel in the restaurant.


Inset.


Dashielle sitting pensively back at the cabin.


Flowers gone wild.


Goodbye, see you next time. Thanks Alex, Patrick, Hilary, Matt, Dashielle, CZars and everyone else for showing me a grand ol’ time.

and the days blow by

Assorted snaps from the last two weeks, momentous and not.


7/11. Free slurpee day. I had blackcherry lemonade, which makes no sense at all.


My homeboy’s perferred vandalism.


I wonder if this guy uses a ladder to mount his steed.


Scene from Potrero Hill late at night.


My birthday was a beautiful day.


Brent and I rode up to the lake for a swimswim. We take a route specifically because there is an old Delorean parked along the way.


Brent is a hunk.


Chloe brought me back fresh picked macadamia nuts from Hawai’i for my birthday. I gotta let them dry out a little first.


Rachael made me dinner for my birthday at her new house. She has rooftop access and quaint view.


Her apartment is still pretty sparse.


The girls cooking away my gnocchinita and balsamic encrusted mushrooms. It was probably one of the best homecooked meals I’ve ever had.


Who needs tables and chairs when you’ve got hardwood?


AK loves lovebryan so much he checks it on the go.


MJ, what?


Bob’s roommate Phil moved out and left him this.


Rachael is selling her bicycle. It rides like a dream. One of those ones where you toss and turn a lot.


They wouldn’t let this woman on the bus because she threw water on the bus driver and a pregnant woman. The pregger lady said, “don’t let da baby fool you, mama will whoop yo’ ass!”


This feller on the bus expounded on the benefits of narrow handlebars on his bike. At lennnnngth.


Gentleman here looked like a caveman masquerading as a business exec.


All of the preceding folks I met on free transit days. In addition to free rides and interesting people, I ride public transportation because buses don’t blow up like cars do. Or at least this one that Kristi and I happened upon.


Rubbernecks.


We rode up to the lake again. Finally got Mike Wong and Aaron King, two people I always refer to by first and last name, up for a dip. The girls met us up and there and we saw Chris Duncan doing backflips off the rock and his baby driving around in an inflatable boat. Don’t have a waterproof camera so you’ll have to take my word on all of this.


Back at the house they were having a partiny (small party).


Diana repping art by Walt.


Chelsea’s back from Chile!!!! It’s time to cause some trouble.


Sometimes I forget that I have a rad rooftop. Call me sometime when you want to kick it up there.

Twelve Years Rolling

It had a lizard wearing a football jersey on it–a Mario Rubalcaba New School. That was my first real skateboard; a birthday present from my dad. I got it exactly 12 years ago today. Along with an electric guitar. But once I learned to ollie, the guitar was retired to the closet. Now I’m 24 and I’ve been skateboarding for half my life. And skateboarding, more than anything else, has made me who I am. I’m not just a skateboarder and I don’t even skate all the time, but skateboarding has still permeated every facet of my existence since that day.

The following are photos that document the way skateboarding extended through my life. Most of my best experiences on a board went undocumented. Roadtrips with friends, skating through downtown at night, walking miles through the hood to get to our secret skate warehouse. That was before digital cameras, before I took pictures of everything I did. That was the best.


This is really embarrassing. But rad because I was wearing a tye-dyed skate shirt before I even started skating. I got a Thrasher when I was in kindergarten too. It was all leading up.


This is my friend Corey Haun. We started skating together in Florida. The board in the back was my cousin’s Plan B.


After skating Florida for a year, I moved to North Carolina. This five-stair was at the church at the top of my street.


I ollied over my brave friend off the stairs. I think we were using a disposable camera that my mom got with her Marlbolo Miles.


Kickflipping a three-stair downtown the summer after eighth grade.


This was the gap at the bank where everyone skated. On any given day in 1995 there’d be ten of us schralping the curbs and ollieing the wall.


The only photo I have from Vance. This was the best spot in the center of downtown. It was our EMB. Shortly after this photo, the bust factor got pretty high.


The board with Bart Simpson dressed as Gene Simmons from KISS was my favorite board ever probably. A Mike Carroll Girl. I sold it to some hesher for ten bucks after skating it and woodburning a NIN logo on the tail.


I skated my first contest at the Salvation Army in ninth grade. I won. Orion Hunt (far right) came in second and Leo Swain (my left) came in third. Leo is in jail for shooting someone to death and Orion Hunt was shot in a drive-by but survived. Crazy how things turned out.


Vic Blue gave me this photo yesterday. I guess it was the first time we met. This was a contest from when I was fifteen. It was the biggest contest I’d ever entered and somehow won first. A traumatic experience occurred minutes after this photo, but I’ll probably never tell you about it.


Since I began skateboarding I always dreamed of going to San Francisco. It was the skate mecca. Finally, when I was 15, I made a trip. I grinded the infamous Hubba Hideout my first day.


The Jersey Barriers were still up then.


Ollied three-quarters of Wallenburg. Also did the Gonz gap at EMB my last night there. It was torn down by my next trip.


Skateboarding in NC through the rest of high school consisted of this skatepark on the roof of a parking garage. Everyday.


This was the family. I was skating Cairo’s first pro-model board. Now he’s a good friend.


As soon as I could, I moved to California. Going to Berkeley was means to an end. I just wanted to skate. This was my first day as a CA resident. I met Allen Ying who was visiting from New York. He shoots for Slap Magazine now.


I grabbed melon on all my ollies for years. Someone should have said something.


Loved the handrails. This was on campus at Berkeley during my Welcome Week.


This is Elias and I at 3rd & Army when they still called it the New Spot. Elias was one of my heros when I first visited and now signs my paychecks.


My first summer after college, we premiered a skate video called Monkey at a theater in Asheville. We packed the theater and I got really nervous during my part. I tried shooting a film still to keep my mind occupied.


There were a couple years of undocumented skateboarding and college life. The summer after sophomore year I worked at Woodward Skatecamp in Pennsylvania.


This was our crew. We skated everyday for ten hours, but still made time for riding horses and the ropes course.


For my junior year of college, I studied abroad in New Zealand. It was maybe the best six months of my life. The skateboarding was so rad and everyone was incredibly friendly. I made friends with a photographer named Craig Langton. This backside 180 was the first of many photos we shot.


Switch ollie.


This was sketchy because there was a kink and it dropped me off at a wall. Somehow I made it through.


We shot this with the lights of a Mitsubishi Mirage that I bought for $250 out there.


The first photo I ever had in a magazine and the first photo Craig ever had in a magazine. We got the cover of New Zealand’s biggest skate mag.


It was in the grocery store and at the airport. Totally weird. Fifteen minutes.


There was a best trick contest in a ballroom in downtown Christchurch. I won $500NZ for first. I don’t really know how that happened. New Zealand is a magical place.


Another photo by Craig. This one landed in the other NZ magazine.


The scene in NZ was really small so it was easy to meet everyone involved. I shot this photo with the editor of Manual, the artsier skateboard magazine.


The cover to this calendar for the magazine came out the same time as the Skateboarder cover. Glory days.


Back in California for the remainder of college. Atreau and Jacob moved out for a semester.


Three of my favorite people to skate with–Atreau, Jacob and Alex Klein. The courts were the best, may they rest in peace.


Many afternoons were spent skating on the island or around 510. Home away from home away from home.


NC folks came to visit. That always nice. Keep ’em coming.


The Bancroft Bombers crew circa July 4th, 2003.


I’d get a good photo every now and again.


My milkshake melted.


I finally got a digital camera and started taking it skating. This was a mission to San Bruno with Cameron.


I graduated college and went to Europe with the Bancroft Bombers. It was such a rad trip. Fireballs, stolen wallet, Fondo, Maoz falafels, Spanish Steps, Le Dome, etc.


We had a full-fledged posse.


Barcelona has a special place in my heart.


London.


I turned 22 in Paris. Ten years rolling (see griptape).


Things weren’t quite the same after Europe. I got wrecked and stepped off the board for awhile. Getting back on, I was a little wobbly.


But I didn’t lose much.


Still got all my favorite tricks. I just have to hold off on the handrails.


Skating tubes, easy impact.


Winter skating in North Carolina.


I made friends with a street urchin while skating a monument in Cambodia. It’s nice taking skateboarding around the world.


14.july.2006. Twelve years later and still rolling.

It’s not the same and I’m not the same. But that’s okay. I still love skateboarding and it’ll always be there. Keeping me forever young.


I went to a couple galleries for First Thursday with Kristi. This was her friend’s photo show.


Eerie.


The stilts on the right are rad.


We also went to Jeremy Fish’s show. It was so crowded that had to let people in as others went out.


Everyone huddled in the back to talk to Mr. Fish and ask him if they could see Aesop Rock for free.


Mr. Fish is good at painting. I’m sure it was Hallie’s inspiration.


His dark period. Red stars mean sold.


Just up a block, Stiletta was playing a free show. The girls high-five for rock ‘n’ roll.


We posted up in the booth during the fifteen other bands.


Without fail, I see Justin Yu and Jenn Bai every time I go out in the city.


Elias likes to ruin my long exposure shots.


Bling-bling.


Happy 23!!!!!111


On Friday I went to the new DLX warehouse for a job interview. I passed. Besides being underqualified, I wasn’t feeling the fulltime hours and they wouldn’t honor my mandatory two months a year vacation. Thanks anyways. Still I got a tour of the new warehouse and saw this amazing macaroni art.


Jim, the big cheese, showed us a tattoo he got based on his son’s drawing. He got it ten minutes after Jack finished his doodle.


I also went to Hallie’s job and witnessed her hard at work, loving the nine to five.


She gave us keys to her swimming pool and it has a rad view of downtown.


Then it was Saturday as commemorated by the shirt.


Bob got a new tattoo.


I rode to the top of Grizzly Peak for the view.


View from my room.


At night I went to meet Dusty in Oakland. Lake Merritt looks pretty at night.


We looped it without falling in.


A couple of busters on road bikes.


Dusty Stokes is the son of a preacher man. And this is his congregation.


Somehow we started talking about climbing up buildings so I took Dusty to the buildering spot on campus. It’s like bouldering but on buildings. Duh.


Snaking around this corner feels slick.


Sunday rolled around and Daniel and Greg wanted to ride to Tiburon. We stopped at the fort on the way so Daniel could hang out for minute.


Fog over the bridge was henious.


But weather in Marin was beautiful. Daniel embraced.


After the Paradise loop we stopped at Pancho’s in Tiburon and ate plantain burritos.


New lovebryan blogger. Anyone on tandems gets in.


The trees in the Presido were spooky.


Fog is photogenic.


Daniel got a badass helmet because his dad almost died last week hitting a pinecone.


Greg always wears a beanie, even in summertime.


I wore my Coon Dog Day shirt in honor of Mike Belleme’s amazing blog.


I tried to shoot the city enshrouded in fog on the bus ride home, but found God instead. Remember it was Sunday.


It was also Cameron’s last night before going to Europe. Laney’s locking herself inside this hutch until he returns.


Bob says hello.


“The most remarkable thing about coming home to you is the feeling of being in motion again. It’s the most extraordinary thing in the world.”

tour de bbq


Kristi and I walked dogs. I think it was the day before July 4th. The 3rd perhaps.


She had to walk Zoe who was basically a yak in dog’s clothing. I got to walk lil’ Chiquita. No sweat.


Potrero Hill view.


Chiquita has to wear this cone because she has allergies. They signed it like a cast.


We rode bikes sans puppies and came across the new statues on the Embarcadero.


And then down to Hopper’s Hands. I like to think Dennis Hopper was the first person to hit his hands against the fence there.


The Parra Bros came over the house that night to kick it at “lovebryan headquarters.” We shot tricky photos with an off-camera flash. They’re all on Pat’s camera though.


Sweet kids. Pat treated me to smoothies at the Rasta spot.


They got money built into the tiles. Tread on da dolla.


This sunflower is growing on my roof.

And now the July 4th festivies begin. I conducted a solo tour of various bbqs and jams.


Dolores was first on the list. There were tens of thousands of fashionable people sitting on the lawn. One would’ve thought Bowie was playing a free show or something.


Ying was claiming some croquet but we just sat on grass instead.


The bike crew was there. I felt self-concious because I was still on my road bike. Hook it up with new wheelset!!!


Line for the girls’ bathroom. Grandma is totally going to pee herself first.


Up at the Panhandle, Roughneck was putting on a Junk Jam bbq.


Mississippi Joe was six sheets to the wind with sparks and sparklers.


Joe unveils his patriotism.


Ty unveils a shadowy back smith.


Jonah lost all his hair and grew a beard. Looking good.


The Brothers Bingham. Simon is back in town.


Johnny introduces the new line of Roughneck Merlot, a delightful vintage with an intoxicating aroma.


Jilleen was in town from NYC. She looked like a spy with those shades and earpiece.


Hallie called me up to another bbq. It was a bunch of dudes sitting around a nice backyard listening to Dragonforce and eating steak and bbq sauce.


Highlights included this dog and. . . .


Karl. Disabled for life.


And back to Dolores. I knew I could find some chips and guacamole back here.


Just before sundown I went back to Berkeley for Cameron and Fenna’s bbq.


All eyez on Dylan.


Adrienne reps the baby phat bag like it ain’t no thing.


Julian is a star.


Leah was totally disgusted with Chris Chu and Fenna. Heathens they are.


These kids were waiting up on the roof for the fireworks.


I proposed that we go up to Indian Rock to see the fireworks. By the time we got there, we saw firework. I think we caught the last one. Spectacular.


Cameron and Fenna were stunned.


I love Nicole and AK.


A lot of people stole my idea and there were thousands of not so fashionable people huddled on the rock. One would’ve thought Phil Collins was playing a free show or something.


Engagement photo.


Missed connection.


AK has a beautiful Eames chair. Sometimes I go over his house just to sit in it.


A busy July 4th comes to an end. Everyone passed out really early. Wonder why? I wanted to keep going but Andrew serenaded me into sleepiness.

I used to think that doing those fun things we do in North Carolina here in California was like squeezing blood from a stone. But more and more, I’m finding good swimming holes with cold, clear water and killer jumping rocks. Sunday was like the convergence of homes. I love Hallie and Cameron bigger than the sky. Cameron organized a trip to Yuba Gap and Hallie drove. Passengers in tow included Max (Alex Harris’s brother), Fenna, Leah and myself. An epic adventure indeed.


First off, thank you Hallie for driving all twenty-seven hours or however long that took.


And secondly, thank you for the Izzie or whatever those bottled beverages are called.


As organized as he is, Cameron was a little off with the directions. But what’s three-and-a-half hours in a car between close friends?


Everyone got full meals from the hot bar at Safeway. I could only find Tropical Dots. Have you ever had Tropical Dots? They are a flavor explosion of gummy goodness.


Wildberry cocktail.


Lots of Dots, a little backtracking and some amazing CD mixes and we were here. Yuba Gap. Time to swim.


We trekked down the river to a more secluded spot with rocks to jump off of.


River shoes.


Hallie couldn’t wait and had to eat her fried chicken along the trail.


Fenna came out of no where with this glamorous looking bathing suit. She says it’s made by Speedo and fully functional, but I think she had the Gucci model thing going.


Hallie, however, was wearing her underwear from the night before and a top that was two sizes to small. She was falling out all over the place.


BFF jump No. 1.


Cameron’s dive was decent.


Hallie’s dive was, um, . . . . bad. So much for no splash. She entered the water like a falling ‘V’.


And my dive: just like a swan.


Hallie also tried her first vampire grab. She’ll get it one day.


I was going to save this one for the fashion spread, but oh well.


Some of us napped and others of us continued down the river to the bigger jump.


While we were eating hummus and chips that Max swam across the river, Fenna jumped in the water and got sucked under a rock. We thought she was going to die and she really thought she was going to die. We saw the current spit her out a few seconds later with a look of terror on her face. Thanks for not dying, darling.


Cameron consoled her through her first ever panic attack.


And like a true Southerner, she got up on that goddamned rock and defied death once again.


Mandatory vamp shot.


Which gave me a killer wedgie.


I love this photo. I love Cameron.


I love Hallie. She claims to be coming to NC with me in August to engage in similar activity. Y’all better hold her to it.


What? It’s functional.


Summer skin. It’s not over.


Near-death experience No. 2. Cameron, Leah and I were looking for a way to get back without fording the river. Hire the Indian you say? Well this ain’t Oregon trail. Cameron thought he could maybe sidle across a steep sloping rock so he wouldn’t get the bags wet.


He thought wrong and slide down that rock falling into the water and a pile of other rocks. All with a knife between his teeth and a bag full of bottles and personal electronic devices. See all the leaves he took down with him.


The melon broke, a beer bottle broke, the camera got soaked, but Cameron survived. We all saw it happen and ended up laughing about it for the next half-hour.


Hallie with a flick of her locks.


I really wanted to eat the melon, but it was soaked in river water. Maybe there would be a Tropical Dot or two stuck between the seats in the car instead.


Hallie believes in the healing power of smooth stones.


I always have to walk along these things. I just can’t help it.


Who wouldn’t give this one a ride?


We listened to such good songs on the way back. Hightlights included Cyndi Lauper’s “When You Were Mine,” Mountain Goats’ “Going to Georgia,” Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy’s “Eagle and the Hawk” and everything Springsteen. Also the Cold War Kids might be my favorite new band thanks to Hallie.


They had to stop at In-N-Out Burger. I simply enjoyed the sunset.

Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water’s warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin

portraiture

Ben Weiner’s grandfather died earlier this year. When he went to the funeral, there were lots of studio portraits of his grandfather. Everytime the old man had a new child, got a promotion or bought a new suit, he’d head to Sears or JC Penny and sit for a photo. I think that’s a splendid idea considering I got a new suit tailored in Vietnam. I talked with my favorite portraitist, Danilo Parra, and we arranged to make some pictures. He’s got the film, but I shot the shoot with my digital device.


Met Danilo at his house. His roommates are always making arts as well. It might be the most productive residential space in the area.


We meandered through Haight looking for interesting settings. But I got sidetracked and started doing skids.


Off to the office.


We found a perfect pink wall.


Test shot.


Danilo winds his Rolleiflex.


Somehow we ended up at the concrete slides in Golden Gate Park where I pondered wrecking my suit.


Nah. Cordonices is way better anyway.


Danny was hyped.


He made me kneel.


The playground is under construction so we had to hop the fence.


Sabotage?


No comment.


Danilo, you’re my inspiration.


After only half a roll, we called it quits and went skateboarding.


NO PRACTICING.

If I were a rapper, that title would be in the hook of my hit single. Ill, right? Here’s a look at last week’s random run-ins and eventful events.


Bob triumphant, even before race day.


Had lunch with the lovely Mila Zuo last Thursday. She showed me her office at SOMA magazine and proved what a hotshot she is.


Andrea, all the way up from Redwood City, met me in Dolores to catch up on gossip.


Lin is my former roomie from 573 Fell. She’s moving to NYC. Aren’t they all?


What? Dusty Stokes! He’s back. This guy is so talented and rad. Hope you run into him as well.


After burning every last calorie in my stomach at the alleycat race, Mike Wong and Katherine happened to be throwing a vegan BBQ. I picked some plums from a tree as contribution and ate many vegan apple sausages.


“So you gotta skewer the tofu like this.”


Built 4 Sausage Linx. How many Raekwon listeners read this?


Grillmaster Mike.


Later that evening Radiohead was playing the Greek Theater. We got there at the encore and they were playing “True Love Waits.” I got impatient and jumped the fence to see them.


Samatha hopped in too. What a trooper.


Everything in its right place.


Morning bell.


On Sunday I trekked out to the ‘burbs to see Becky before leaving for France. Kyle organized a going away party at his folks’ house in Menlo Park. It was a surprise. Note the hands.


Kyle kept telling me he had a copy of the enjoi video he made with my name on it. And he really did.


Kyle’s grandma Lolly hooked it up.


As did Britney. She prepared homemade vegan peanut butter cups. They were the size of cupcakes too. So good.


We’ll miss you, Becky.


Such a rad couple.


The eating just doesn’t stop. Mike and I met for Food Not Bombs on Monday. The guy in the back was playing Cure songs.


Monday: Just one of those days.


I hardly notice graffiti, but I found this in the bathroom at Taqueria Cancun and smiled knowing that our good friend Kyle Lee had peed in the same spot.


Since I wasn’t noticing graffiti, I didn’t notice these Mat O’Brien eyes on the soap dispenser. They noticed me.


PLANET, the magazine I intern for, had a T-shirt party last night at 111 Minna.


There was a little fashion show.


And we made some friends and got some free t-shirts.


Kristi accompanied me in a vintage California tee. It’s cool because she’s from St. Louis.


Elias and Ty rolled through sporting eagles and wizards respectively.


Nightrider.


For the last two weeks I’ve been teaching skateboarding to wee kids in the mornings at a day camp.


Despite the harsh time slot, it was pretty fun. They even kind of learned something. Peter here swears Will Ferrel is his family friend.


Jacobo was the best. His helmet was incessantly crooked. He wants to become an American president, then he claims he will use his power to get me a job in a comic book store or as a solider. Thanks, Jacobo.

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