halloween warm up

Jihaari put on another Rollerdisco. I didn’t get to skate this time, but I’m not hating.

It was a costume party and Shannon and her friend were figure skaters. How appropriate.

Sabrina was a bear. An Italian bear. With a cigarrette. Who looked something like a mouse.

Bird Big may not be able to fly, but he sure can skate.

I think this references a print ad that references something I don’t understand.

Davey was a rotten banana and Hallie was just rotten.

I mean wonderful-awesome-beautiful.

When Hallie uses the camera, she sucks the soul right out of you.

This is Sandy disguised as someone sad. Far removed from her actual self.

This reminds me of a Sabbath record cover.

Sandy had a houseparty. The toilet overflowed, the neighbors’ house got tagged, a fire extinguisher may have gone off. It was a complete success.

Megan and Jon are animals.

Sandra and Allison sit on an empty bed in a crowded room.

Back to Halloween. Elias put his costume together and instantly became one hard-ass motherfucker. What it is, blud?

Strubing showed up as a barney. He stayed in character the entire night, pushing mongo from party to party worried that the keg would be “dusters.”

Berkeley came out. Cameron scored with this get-up.

Not a normal sight in Pamplona. Alli and Micaela defy all rules.

They found a matador and it was on.

AK makes a creepy cowboy.

Chloe has a legit phobia of Abraham Lincoln. Too bad she missed this. There were at least twenty of them.

This T.Rex was rad. He just roamed the streets by himself wreaking havoc all night. His costume smelled like paint thinner and was probably wrecked out of his mind the whole time.

Alex was self-conscious about no knowing any KISS songs and decided to offset his facepaint with a pencil stache and a soulpatch.

One party we went to had jars that you put your hands into to feel gross things. When your a kid, it’s usually peeled grapes or spaghetti. But this was actual pig’s feet and human hairballs.

This one disturbed Alli enough that I felt like I should post it.

Chris the Performing Monkey sang to us in Spanish from party to party.

AK is the ultimate Catholic priest. He loves young boys.

Creeping their way into Farlitos.

The Nintendo Power kids cashed in their gold coins for greasy quesadillas.

This says it all.

See you on real Halloween. It’s going down.

Alex and I went to Bolinas for a bromantic afternoon of foraged fruit, pellet guns, hiking, swimming and musing on girls, photos and writing.

His mom has a house off a dirt road and the lawn needs regular watering.

Then it was time to destroy some shit.

I’m no Lee Harvey Oswald, so this was really difficult.

“Hey, Mom. Just shooting shit.”


Break yo’ self.

In the spirit of Halloween, our hand-drawn ghouls got it. There were also exit wounds on the rotten apples.

We live the simple life out there. Wicker furniture and Newman-Os.


There’s a lot going on inside this dude’s head all the time.

Contrary to popular belief the ropeswing is still up at Bass Lake.

Dude had a wetsuit.

I had a nosuit.

How California is this? I love Bolinas.

block party

Lower Haight had a block party. Lucy held watch.

Hella Henna.

“I don’t know where my mom is and I don’t care.”

They had a reptile booth.

You could blow up film canisters with Alka-Seltzer as well.

The tortoise was surprisingly fast. Probably from trying to outrun all the explosions.

The iguana was quite smug.

Blondie was the star attraction. She’s a 60lb. albino Burmese python.

She’s so long I couldn’t fit her in a single frame.

This is the last photo ever taken of Meghan. She was swallowed whole.

I’m not afraid of much, but growing up snakes constituted my single completely irrational fear above all fears. This was the first time I ever held a snake and now I’m invincible.

We also attended the Clarion Alley block party, hosted in part by this lovely man, Antonio.

Maeve made it.

So did Meghan. You thought she was in the serpent’s belly. You dummy!

Someone else was here. If you know you know.

This hurts my eyes like wearing someone else’s prescription specs.

Tough dogz.

Weenie dog.

Rad dog.

Mac dog.

Clarion had its own reptiles.

Rocket and Brandy.

Maeve and Molly.

Karl sans beard.

Focus. Determination. Skill.

Rep yo’ block.

three days

Me and Jake Baker was riding to Tiburon when a man jumped off the bridge. We didn’t see it but the rubberneckers filled us in. I think there’s only one way to do it and that’s a swan dive off the tower. Everything else is half-steppin’.

This is my new friend Sandy. She won’t jump because she’s so happy about our blossoming friendship.

Color schematics.

Buried treasures.

Meghan and Alex Klein having a moment at Smiths Night.

Damn, you got shook.

Benny Gold wuz here.

AA’s Finest. That’s for American Apparel. Otherwise, they probably wouldn’t be in a bar.

What folks from the Marina think they can get away with in the Mission.

Nick Nice in character.

Go Red Team!

quick pix

“Walk up to the snake. Get bit. Die. Walk up to the same snake. Get bit. Die.”

A visit from SJ’s finest.

Val pieces together nice bikes.

Inset of the Hella Kitty.

Weed is pretty silly. As are toy chickens. But put together, this is kinda cool.

Rooftop sunset from my former home.

Sufjan Stevens played a mighty show.

All things go.

One night last week, a bunch of us thought we were going on a yacht party with SOMA magazine. Turns out it was just at a yacht club. Lomax got all dressed up to brave the high seas. Sorry, Admiral, maybe next time.

Hobnobs at the yacht club have to stare at this all day.

Alex Klein is back stateside and that’s always a good thing.

The other AK’s whip.

Brent Hagen turned 25. He had a BBQ. People attended. Food got eaten. Hooray!

They should call it a burn, not a grill.

There goes the last tofupup.

Appetizing tribute to Brent. Cake two of five.

Jeremy’s parents check the website.

Kat also reads the site. She’s a true fan.

Poochers thinks the site is bullshit. He prefers to stink up the backyard rather than read anything I’ve touched.

Sara and Katie.

Shelly and Jerm.

Brent and birthday cake caress.

The yet unnamed Capp House Co-op has all classics. Pretty sure they just shoplifted this rack from the children’s section of the library.


So many photos. So much fun.

Bancroft Bombers roll together.

Pat and I went to see Danilo’s film, Subconciouslessness, at an film festival about alternate realities.

Speaking of alternate realities, Galen is in a whole other world.

Danilo is really good at piano. On top of all those other things he’s really good at. Dammit.

Pat’s first time singing karaoke. I signed him up for the Carpenters’ “Superstar.”

First rain of the season.

Nicolas is a famous actor in Chile. I assisted in a photo shoot of him for an upcoming Chilean film about mercenaries in Iraq.

In order to find a piece of the ocean.

Later that night I come home from work and find 25 whiskey-drunk southerners singing Journey in my living room. We had some NC folks visiting and some birthdays to celebrate. So, of course, they rented a deluxe karaoke machine. I can’t imagine coming home to anything better.

Stacy ain’t afraid to rock the mic.

I never wanna be your weekend lover.

Only want to see you bathe in the Purple Rain.

Claire and Aki have the same birthday. Duets all night, including “Let’s Talk About Sex.”

Tender moment. Happy thirty, girls.

Aki says, your turn.

I don’t know where Darin’s coming from.

Wylie, Feeny and Faye: Where’s the gold at? Where’s the gold at?

Andrew played KJ all night. Kept the singing going until 5am.

Bon Jovi “Wanted Dead or Alive.”

Can’t even express the madness and merriment of this event. My next purchase will be a deluxe karaoke machine.

The following day was the bluegrass festival in the park.

Young and old alike.

The crowds were massive.

And everyone just wanted to hear Gillian Welch croon.

I dragged Pat out of the house.

And we met Ethan Lee.

And a chicken.

The sun dipped and we went to a BBQ.

Fayez dropped by! I love this guy. He’s gotten a lot taller since the fro.

After eating, I made it just in time to see the Cold War Kids. Quite possibly my favorite band of the moment. “Saint John on death row just waiting for a pardon.”

Nathan’s got some pipes. “I got one friend lay across from me. I did not choose him. He did not choose me.”

Just when you thought the day might end, everyone went to Soul Night at the Elbo Room and danced ’til they booted us.

Berkeley kids just started appearing out of the woodwork.

Trying to keep these boys out late, keep them from making too many songs or movies or photos.

I love San Francisco. I love everything happening. I love my friends.

Brent suggested I go to the MOMA to see the scavenger findings on display. Said it would help bring closure to our loss. Jake and Liz came for support and Aaron happened to show at the same time as us.

Toilets. The 100 point clue.

Brent’s dirty sock should be in there somewhere.

Nose goes.

Irish Spring flounder.

I think eggs might be the nastiest food out there, but Aaron’s sunny side up was a work of art.

Just about everyone is on Valtrex these days.

Bob was supposed to be a cupcake for Halloween this year. Make him follow through this year.

Items that enter your body.

Ryan was really proud of the horse he carved from a single piece of carrot.

See that really nice cast of a foot? That was Brent’s.


I really want our fox skull back.

Broken tools.

Popguns haunt my nightmares. So do the lipstick dick prints, kind of.

Heart-shaped rocks in the shape of a heart. Biters.

Aaron repeated our sob story for the camera. Our mattress was the largest and sits as the foundation.

Next year….

50mm f1.4

Sometimes, Pat and I trade lenses. He doesn’t like mine. I try to tell him that it’s not the lens that stinks, it’s him. Proof is pudding.

Look at the way Danilo pops from that tree. What a buttery depth of field!

Rockclimbing approach to treeclimbing. The bark ain’t having it.

A rare white herring in mid-flight. Could possibly be the only bird of its kind left in the world. It’s like photographing a ghost.

Another rare specimen. A Danilo perched high in the treetops.

You can walk right up this tree.

Jake’s knife has assisted release (read: switchblade). Action shot.

Danilo gets a quick shave.

Someone’s gotta feed the rats.

Hippies cutting hairs at the beach.

I think the ravens ate the seagulls.

It gets cold at the beach.

Logan moved back from NYC and had a vegan potluck at her new house in Oakland. It was Thanksgiving caliber and I left uncomfortably full.

Katherine made an appearance in pea green.

Happy Birthday Alex Harris!

Logan’s roommate Jacob played the Ghostbusters Soundtrack on vinyl and enjoyed it a whole lot.

Look at those grips. I’m so glad this girl came out.

New bike, new camera, this guy’s unstoppable.

We’ve got a nice rooftop in this beautiful city.

Even if Pat doesn’t like my lens. I still like his. Almost as much as I like making cookie casseroles with Liz.

Last Saturday some British artist hosted a scavenger hunt through SFMOMA. I assembled a dream team of tough, resourceful and fast men–Aaron King, Ryan Red, Brent Hagen and myself. We were supposed to be training for the last two weeks, but how could we possibly lose?

While I should’ve been riding to the far reaches of SF to familiarize myself, I road to the Vietnamese sandwich shop to meet Ben Weiner and see his MASH Nikes.

Instead of daily calisthenics, I took naps on the sidewalk.

When I should’ve been sleeping or brushing up on my art history, I was at rollerdisco.

And Nick Nice was in the girls’ bathroom. You’ll have to ask him.

Meghan and Keith were laughing at the guy’s testicle that kept appearing in the exercise video that played over the roller rink.

Maybe rollerskating could be a valuable asset to this hunt… Nah.

Day of the hunt, we were up early and in line sizing up all the chumps. Looked like cake. Except for one team….

We got our hundred clues and ran back to Aaron’s office to begin decoding. We enlisted the services of crafty, intelligent friends and Mr. Google.

I got out on the bike and found various items and clues. Like this mobile we were supposed to recreate. Brent dispatched as I chased wild geese.

3:30 Meet the Meek. And shoot ’em.

Allie made daisy chains.

Aaron put a hole in a book.

After doing and collecting a thousand other things, we hustled to the museum to display our findings. Brent dragged this king size mattress through the lobby with one hand leaving a trail of destruction in the name of winning.

Our table o’ junk.

Tetrahedrons, snapshot of someone with a black eye, lipstick dick print, egg sunny side up, cast of a foot, scab, dreadlock, flattened spoon, ear plugs, etc. It’s all there.

We had to leave our awesome fox skull with them.

Aaron made dookie with clay.

A wise slang=wineglass, smashed four eyes, Kate Bush album=red shoe. It was bonkers figuring out and procuring these things. But we ended up with an outrageous number of points. In the bag…maybe.

Judges assessed the items of the other 51 teams and tallied scores.

We waited patiently in the lobby wondering what we’d do with our prize money.

A big song and dance ensued just before the artist named the winners of the $4000 grand prize. Could someone really beat our 3600 points?

Yes. With 3700 points, SF Messengers won $4000. The one team we worried about. Completely, utterly heartbroken.

Bye, suckers!

We lost by 109 measley points. When we went back to Aaron’s office, there laying on the desk was a burlap sack and a toy gun, worth a combined total of 125 points. What can you do? It was fun. Really, it was. And if we had to lose, I’m glad it was to them.

I’m slowly scavenging my diginity and happiness from the gutters of regret and misery. We find the best things when we’re not looking for them anyway.