Meet Molly, the brains behind MagicMolly. I’ve been a big fan of her website for the last year and forced her into a collaboration while she’s in town. In the exciting world of urban fashion, “X” denotes a collaboration.

We had this idea to make a massive cat’s cradle with trees and neon-colored yarn.

It took some visualizing to create.

But we made it proper with some arboreal help.

If my helicopter wasn’t in the shop, the aerial view would’ve looked like this.

Molly really wanted shift to the next phase of the game.

Pinch here.

If I had my helicopter and the ability to easily uproot and replant trees, this would be the aerial view of stage two.

Stage three. We never got past this one because I couldn’t figure out what to do with my pinkies.

Sorry, the installation was only a one-day event.

And the most satisfying part was cutting that taut string. Impeccable timing X artful destruction.

Orphaned again this Christmas. But rather than linger over the absence of home and family this season, I decided to do something epic. Thus the Santa Cruise to Santa Cruz was born.

Galen Jackson and I have been riding brothers for years now. He was an obvious choice for this ride because of his dedication to Santa Claus and love for 96.5 KOIT, “the official Christmas music station.” He even pre-empted the ride by creating this wikipedia entry. We left from my house in the Mission in San Francisco at daybreak.

We wished many a “Merry Christmas” (and some a “Merry KOITmas”) through Golden Gate Park and enjoyed Wham’s “Last Christmas” on KOIT.

Ocean Beach. Some of the City’s homeless were just waking up on shore hoping to find gifts from Santa buried in the sand. Steel Reserve? A new pipe?

Pacifica is beautiful in that early morning light.

Oh Highway 1! How guide me! Like Rudolph’s nose to Santa’s sleigh.

Amazing views all day. Each one a gift.

30 miles down, 60 to go.

I think this was some of the wreckage of a school bus. I hope the surviving children got new watercolors and kneepads in their stockings.

Devil’s Slide. I don’t see the big deal. It’s not like a tightrope or anything. I thought it was pretty. Satan is just a mixed up version of Santa anyway.

Quick stop for urination, candycanes and vistas.

Is that “Jingle Bell Rock?” Turn it up.

Bianchi was the tenth reindeer.

A few more hits later and we stopped again for lunch on a peaceful bluff overlooking the sea.

Galen was missing Christmas morning with his family to be here. But the way he sees it is Santa does so much for us, that this one is for Santa.

I did for Santa, all those hardworking elves, little baby jesus and James Brown.

Candycanes, so gross.

Slouch.

Stretch.

Too much nog.

After four straight hours of KOIT and multiple renditions of “Feliz Navidad,” we put on some Danzig. He’s worships Santa, right?

Strapping the box down, securing the gifts.

Pescadero Lighthouse.

Xmas on the beach.

Christmas doesn’t get better than this.

There was something pretty and colorful out there.

The coast had dozens of pumpkin patches. Someone should have told them it’s not Halloween, it’s Christmas.

Santa might have flown all over the entire world last night (except to Muslim countries, Israel and most of Asia), but we cruzed a solid 90 miles. And I still made it to Oakland for a vegan Christmas dinner.

We smeared the Christmas Spirit down that coast like gravy on a biscuit. A special thanks goes out to Dick and Joan Jackson for picking us up a raising Galen and giving me that little touch of family on Xmas day. And thanks to KOIT for sponsoring our trip, even if they didn’t know it. And, of course, to Santa for being so fat and jolly.

Santa Claus really does stop in San Francisco. I know it’s hard to believe. For a long time I thought San Francisco didn’t celebrate Christmas. Why else would everyone leave for that holiday? I’ve heard about families and shopping malls and other fundamentals of Christmas in the City but I’ve never seen them. Still, friends and locals have assured me that it actually does occur. So there might not be nativity scenes in every yard and the carolers might not make it to the TL, but come Christmas Eve and stockings will be hanging. The following is a project that sets out to document proof of Christmas in Frisco.

Kari is moving to France. This was our last hurrah.

Love you and miss you, girl. Bon voyage. It’s gonna be amazing. I promise.

Andrew’s brother and look-a-like, Ian, is one half of Terri Timely. They needed extras for a video they were shooting and we happily volunteered.

They built a forest inside a building in Fremont. It was a magical world.

The video is for The Little Ones. They’re from LA and really friendly.

Alex Harris is a good blogger. Look behind that tree.

There were all kinds of extras. They had these girls from an Oakland High School who were sure to shake it.

These guys cut a rug.

We “free danced” in three minute intervals for about three hours.

The forest even had grass and boxes to dance on top of like it was MTV’s The Grind.

The Little Ones are bigger than they look.

She was a primary. That means that she acts and dances.

Cameron thought it was going to be a Pearl Jam video and brought his Quicksilver flannel.

Suzette came out because she likes to do cool things.

The party don’t stop. Except when they shout “CUT!” Then it stops and we stand there.

And eat snacks.

And have pizza parties.

Danilo lurked around the set thinking of what crazy films he could make with such a budget.

Ed was practicing his lip-syncing.

We spent a lot of time wondering why there was a light switch in the forest.

Then a living room sprouted out of the ground like a mushroom.

It’s got a homey feel.

The Little Ones are good, even without amplifiers or microphones.

Cameron wishes this was his room.

Doesn’t he look about twelve right now?

Back at CZ, Kari had a going away party. More dancing. Good thing we were all warmed up.

Hallie took a study break.

Chloe’s a blogaholic.

Danilo’s an alcoholic. Just kidding. He probably didn’t even finish his Sparks.

Alli has nothing to say to me.

Andrew Kyle has two first names and a crazy wig.

Chloe swears she had a good time. Probably because she didn’t fall for Karl’s attempt at the punching game.

Anya freaking it like a blind man.

Oops!

Speaking of popping out, look at AK’s eyeball.

Busting outta them jeans.

Navid goes for broke.

And Navid’s officially broken.

Poi balls: a surefire way not to get any ladies.

Aww.

Kim is my new friend and likes no-bake cookies and the “Yea Yeah” song.

There was a glowing fire that almost set Michelle’s straw hat ablaze.

Morning light. Does that mean the party’s over?

I was calling in reinforcements. (Actually, I thought this was a boring photo but someone mentioned how I balance the Shaggy on the door. Okay.)

Party breakfast. Potatoes fried in love and vegan pancakes.

“God, thank you for the party. May it continue eternally.”

My purple camera has been sent off for repairs. Flashes aren’t supposed to smoke? Here are some pictures it took for me before getting sick.

Capture the flag in Macys.

Pink and polio.

Artists get in for free.

Trouble.

Double.

Where I grew up, we threw sticks at things in the woods. Kids in Newport grow up like this.

This guy was a huge asshole that invaded our hometown skate scene in high school. He found Atreau and me randomly in a skateshop in SF last week. Still up to the same old tricks but I think I like him now.

Pat would make a pretty tree.

Danilo enters the poison house.

There’s something radical and gnarly about Chinese broccoli and gravy.

In case you didn’t know.

My former home, Casa Zimbabwe, had its special dinner party. This is probably my eighth one but it’s nonetheless tasty and extravagant. Of all those times, this is probably my first time helping out in the kitchen. Oh so sanitary.

Blake was heading up the vegan front making peppermint patties with Scharfenberger dark chocolate.

After days spent preparing the feast it was time to eat.

I sat with these hooligans.

This one was Medieval themed. Looked a bit like prom. But I didn’t go to prom and have been excited to recreate it ever since.

Bryan Kett was the raddest Hunchback of Casa Z.

Anya is so sophisticated for her age.

Kari however….

Courtney is not to be outdone.

People just started bringing out delicious food in a series of nine or ten courses.

All the while we had live folk music playing.

You gotta work up an appetite for the next course.

That’s a balloon, dude.

Heart-melting and ass-stabbing at the same time.

Like any good man of Christ.

I stuffed them pumpkins and they were gords of inexplicable flavor.

Rayo was protected where it counts, I suppose.

Feasters feasting.

Someone ate this. That’s not seitan, that’s the real thing.

Where have so many jesters infiltrated my blogs? Are they the new pirates?

Pat has a huge wingspan.

Shannon has a heart of gold.

You got a little something on your arm there, kid.

I don’t know these kids, but I like Superhero #3’s colorway.

Scarfin’ material.

That’s what I think of your dumb dinosaur.

So innocent looking…for a homewrecker.

Discussing the night’s gossip.

From lutes to Luda, the dancefloor was bumpin’.

Blake’s a sorcerer in the kitchen.

Drunken cuteness.

Kari finally gave up that crotchshot.

Tomorrow morning people will be eating cereal with forks. Thanks, Kar.

Some girl I never met was trying to play sleeping beauty.

Navid shared some of his peach Swishers. Despite being from Thousand Oaks, he smokes them regularly because they are “deeeelishuuss.”

These kids stayed up until four uploading their pictures on Facebook. Lovebryan is second priority of course.

Six hours after the dinner bell rang and this was all that was left.

A few folks gathered in the hallways fighting the Sandman.

I’ll miss CZ and Kari Nye like you don’t even know.

Raise high the roofbeams, this one’s goin’ places.

My old roomie Blake came to visit before making a trip to South America. He’s got the right idea.

He’s better at using my camera than I am.

Oh!

Patti has emerald colored eyes in the daylight.

Dog walker with a dog in a walker.

Danilo called me late at night and told me to meet him at this place for some mysterious reason.

A shadowy character was lurking near the Christmas tree.

It was none other than the Jester.

Lonely and bewildered.

Then he made a friend.

But friends don’t last long for the Jester.

Window shopping.

When the Jester gets hungry, he visits his cousin Jack.

Nicky Nice also gets hungry sometimes.

Yeah, that’s two tacos for 99 cents.

The Jester acts hard around his new girl.

When us regular folk wanted to eat, we went to Naan and Curry. They don’t bother bussing the tables at two a.m.

Danilo was still figuring out his film.

You can watch it now on the Parra Bros. page.

Back home I had to make sure all that nasty samosa was outta the ol’ chompers.

Up and down is supposed to be better for the gums.

And spit. Don’t forget to brush your tongue.

First Thursday with the boys.

Tu Lan Vietnamese, the yummiest, sketchiest spot on all of sleazy Sixth. Cameron’s holding it down in the line.

Six and a half years of college and Andrew is a rad grad!

His speech was something to the effect of, “I’m an amazing human and I’m going to be incredibly wealthy with or without this silly diploma.”

They left the vegan out of the cake.

Nikola’s got layers like a tie-dyed onion.

What a harlot!

This is the finest household in all of Berkeley.

Don’t ask. It’s some weird graduation tradition. I was embarrassed for the whole lot of them.

Fallen.

Kneeling.

In contrast to the world, this blog could have used more segues.

Six and a half years in California and I’d never been to LA. For a long time I just didn’t want to go. Didn’t seem appetizing. But as I’ve gotten older and my appreciation for everything in motion has grown, I decided LA was worth a try. Aaron King called me on Thursday and asked if I wanted to accompany him and Ryan Red to LA for the weekend. Sho nuff.

We arrived late Friday night. And went directly to the HellHearse Manor in Los Feliz. This is James Oliver’s massive bedroom.

Ryan Red was just that.

The folks at the Manor bought 300 Christmas trees and drove them down from Oregon in a U-Haul. They’re selling Noble and Douglas Firs between 3 and 10 ft.

They keep them out back by the swimming pool. I guess Muska skated the pool last time they drained it.

This is Petecia La Fawnhawk and she resides at the Manor. And totally rules.

They’re all about the big screen in LA.

Red wears panties.

We drove around a lot because that’s what you do. I saw a few familiar sights.

The Gambler.

Everybody has a stylist in LA.

Need I say more. So delicious.

Red and Pete are basically movie stars.

The underlying reason for AK’s visit was that his step-grandad was having a surprise (but not startling) birthday party for his 90th year on this planet. It was WWII themed. AK was going to be Hilter, but ended up with a sailor suit from this army/navy store. Same diff.

I believe this man was supposed to be Winston Churchill.

Rosie with the Riveted Hip.

Here’s granpapa and his cousin reminiscing on all the good old days, all ten-million of them.

Apparently zoot-suits were banned during the War because they used too much excess fabric.

AK trying to pretend he’s not gay.

Oh to be on the sea again.

Petecia was Eva Braun and invested in a new wig.

Even if I didn’t look as gay as Ryan and Aaron, my specs still emitted rays of Roy G. Biv showing my true colors.

Ha!

Petecia was fueling up for her performance later that night.

Ninety candles is too many.

Some party.

Oliver was the oldest attendee at 90 and four months.

He gave me the play by play of how he flew a bomber and dropped 8000 pounds of explosives on the hotel Hilter was in.

He told me how he was a hero.

AK’s backyard.

There’s always a sunset in SoCal.

That’s one good-lookin’ mirror.

Pete’s your private dancer. Dancer for money. She’ll do anything you want her to do.

Shipping off, back to LA.

But not before one of these, darlin’.

Back in LA, AK and I happened upon the Keep store and instantly made friends with Margot. Her and Grace of Bon & Ging clothing accompanied us for more vegan food.

Then it was partytime. I didn’t bring my big camera so as not to step on the Cobrasnake’s toes. But this party was super rad and took place at a huge art space. It was for some girl’s birthday. She’s the bassist in this band and was dancing around for the whole first song. I can’t remember her name but think I love her.

Petecia rocked so hard with her band Fawnhawk that her wig fell off.

Look who’s in LA. Jacob Biba was visiting Alex Klein. We chilled for a sec.

Alex Klein, a new LA transplant, was holding it down on the dancefloor.

And Zoe was there! She broke away from her law school homework just long enough to grace us with some Yunza moves.

PJ showed up. We left SF on such short notice that I forgot to call my LA friends. Fortunately, I ran into this guy.

The next day we went to the beach in OC. I’m still a tourist.

Such nice weather in December almost weirds me out.

Boys being boys. Matching shorts.

Boys being creeps. AK says that’s what Sam gets for wearing a Miller Light bikini.

We barged a private community with houses like this to get to Jump Rock.

This was a pretty piece of coast.

The tide was low and Aaron did some depth checking. About waist deep.

But we came so far. BFF jump.

We vamped in turns.

Oh, California.

Land of dreams.

As a final order of business, AK bought me my first tofu-mushroom burger from Taco Loco. Like the entirety of the trip, it fuckin’ ruled and I am greatly grateful.

Suzette makes and photographs forts. I thought it was a splendid idea and volunteered my living room. Here’s her fort and my photos.

It’s still up if anyone wants to come chill.