In a sprightly manner, we left the stirring city dwellers of Los Angeles behind and looked onward and upward to our journey to Dinkey Creek.
About 10 hours later, which involved a handful of pit stops and a number of u-turns, we arrived. With the sun barely leaving us enough light, we trekked down the hill, hopped across Cow Creek and climbed up and over the ridge to that magical spot. There it sat, unoccupied, as if it was waiting for us the whole time.
It felt marvelous to be back in such a special place. Sitting in perfectly egg-shaped rocks that hugged you with the warmth of the steady sun, listening to nothing but the icy, cold waters fall and stream down the creek, and seeing no one else except good company (except, of course, the three guys who caught us in the native act under a rock..oooopsies!).
It's interesting that within the normal and routinely engagements of our day-to-day lives e.g. shows, people, work, music, emails, and to-do lists, it's very easy to leave nothing for ourselves. Meaning, we place little value on simply being with ourselves - the time to be quiet, still, observant and without distraction. While there are instances when we may have let ourselves slip - staring blankly up at the ceiling or out the window - we often attempt to snap ourselves out of it because it is judged as just time wasted. (Although, this may be true if you find yourself doing only this accompanied with a small puddle of drool.) But it's crazy what happens when you have absolutely no pressing activities or people to overstimulate you.
Amongst the flower, the wise trees...(hah just kidding), one is finally allowed to be alone and completely to them self. While this may sound super gay and plain to see, in doing so, both Omar and I were instantly swallowed up and dumped into a complete and utter state of lethargy. It was as if the delay of all those moments had caught up and came crashing down on us. We were essentially incapable of saying or doing much else besides just being there, and in almost complete silence the entire time. (Although, once I ventured the rocky creek side, and it was met with some ridiculous fumbles, yelps and curse words, and lastly, a protruding branch in my side.) So, besides the unexpected and painful wood shanking, it was probably the most peaceful and relaxing one could be. Within just 24 hours, I think I had unwound and come on down.
Alas, it came time to gather our gear, take one last dip in the creek, and make the trip back to LA. When we arrived home, we looked desperately lost and out of place, as if we were natives of the forest plucked straight from the branches and dropped into civilization...
So, here's to another successful trip to Dinkey Creek!
30.7.11
26.7.11
some stuff!
Here's some sketches. I've been into doing portraits of my friends lately, so LOOK OUT! You might be next. Hayley is always my victim in such circumstances, so it's time for all you other folks to pick up some of the slack. This is Shaun Lowecki, the drummer I play with in SF, and Kelly Griffin, my awesome gal pal.
Also, the very colorful piece is a collaboration I did with another bay area artist and good friend, Greg Szilyagi. He does a lot of architectural art, so it was a really unique collaboration. He works in marker, so I made us a big canvas, we picked colors out of his markers, and then I mixed paint of each color to match. I think it's probably pretty obvious who did what, but see if you can find the seahorse Greg hid in there for me. Hint... he's approaching the stairs.
Also, I just plain thought this picture of the dinosaur book was hilarious.
Spain is incredible, and someday I would like to come back for an extended stay, but I'm pretty ready to go home now- not in the least because I think I've broken a house rule every day I've been here. No slouching at the table, close all doors when not in the room, always wear shoes on the bottom floor, No computers or electronic devices at lunch or dinner, never leave belongings out, keep your room clean, Certain books may not be read outside of the Despacho, salad dressing doesn't go in the fridge... And I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be on the first floor in your pajamas, but so far Louise has held her tongue on that front. So glad she is Renée's mother-in-law and not mine. Holy cow. That's not to say she's not nice, but sheesh.
The last few days have been SO RAINY, but I've managed to go on quite a few adventures. We went to the aquarium, where there were real seahorses, miniature ships and disorienting underwater tunnels. We had a 1920's themed party at the house which was a blast, and I got super sauced, and then I went to a Jackson Browne concert for free on the beach- AWESOME. Then went out clubbing til 5 a.m., and then the next day I went up a mountain on a trolley to an amusement park that sits above san sebastian. There was a funhouse, roller coaster, bumper boats, little game stands and a lighthouse with old pictures of san sebastian in the early 1900's. Cool!
25.7.11
on the road with jack mckillop
Some words that flowed staring through the windows of a red van in Iowa.
What if we drove this far again? Would our tires withstand the uneven balance and burning blisters of the road? Would the treacherous thunder storms make us shiver and shake in place until piss ran down our legs? If I spent this extra dollar for piece of mind will I find that it sailed across the world back into my pocket with room to stretch its legs? I've travelled this road twice once summer with the mindset of men on their last leg, with thoughts of skin racing through their foreheads, with the greasy slip strings that rattle and hum under their eyelids. Chasing the ghost into the dark. Skincrawlers that leave their mark stretching beast and bone under the roof of a TA truckstop, keeping their ties to the family at its side. Wheels wobbling to put air inside. What once was a simple task has multiplied its force, stretched its grasp until it forged a new scent, a new color, a new scene, chasing the bus in a van to boise. I'll tie my waist tighter to fit my new old jeans, to grasp the frame of the new sleeker me. It's my dream. Right in front of me. With a silhouetted mustache driving me, with flute toting philosophers questioning me, analyzing everything. My moms and dads are far beyond me, in a constant search that seems never-ending, eating home cooked meals on a pit stop for my brother, counting the days until I return, to a place I call home no further.
End of summer party? Let's talk.
What if we drove this far again? Would our tires withstand the uneven balance and burning blisters of the road? Would the treacherous thunder storms make us shiver and shake in place until piss ran down our legs? If I spent this extra dollar for piece of mind will I find that it sailed across the world back into my pocket with room to stretch its legs? I've travelled this road twice once summer with the mindset of men on their last leg, with thoughts of skin racing through their foreheads, with the greasy slip strings that rattle and hum under their eyelids. Chasing the ghost into the dark. Skincrawlers that leave their mark stretching beast and bone under the roof of a TA truckstop, keeping their ties to the family at its side. Wheels wobbling to put air inside. What once was a simple task has multiplied its force, stretched its grasp until it forged a new scent, a new color, a new scene, chasing the bus in a van to boise. I'll tie my waist tighter to fit my new old jeans, to grasp the frame of the new sleeker me. It's my dream. Right in front of me. With a silhouetted mustache driving me, with flute toting philosophers questioning me, analyzing everything. My moms and dads are far beyond me, in a constant search that seems never-ending, eating home cooked meals on a pit stop for my brother, counting the days until I return, to a place I call home no further.
End of summer party? Let's talk.
23.7.11
20.7.11
projectile pro and real no-shit castles
Still having a blast! So yesterday Seb, Renee, MariSol and I drove into France. Both MariSol and I got carsick, but MariSol took it to the next level with professional projectile vomiting. My uggs will never be the same. Seb, Renee and I were laughing so hard that I thought the smell of urine might get added to the smell of puke in the rental car. (Which was so formidable we couldn't get back in the car for several hours.When we got out of the car, Renee used an extra t shirt of her own to put on MariSol, and we used a purple scarf to hold the whole thing up- there's a photo of it here which still sends me into cahoots of laughter, and in fact, the portion of Renee you can see betrays the fact that she was doubled over with laughter. And the look on Solie's face is priceless. Pissed. (photo right above the sheep photo)
Today we went to an old stronghold (a real no shit castle) here in Spain, where the town is still standing all around it, and we had lunch and walked around the preserved ruins. It was gorgeous. Here are some photos of the little town.
Overall, going splendidly! And tonight, Renee and Seb want to take me out for a night on the town.
P.s. all we eat here is bread, cheese and ham. Seriously not good for the soul. When I get back to the states I'm eating salad for a month. Just straight arugula to the dome. Hard.
p.s.s. see the sheep jumping fences? hahaha. France is a landscape of the greenest, most lush hillsides, dotted with what look like pure fluffy clouds with black faces and feet. The sheep are adorable. The roads, not so. They're really nice, but winding, and I've discovered that I can get carsick- something I never really thought I was prone to before.
18.7.11
17.7.11
Inés is in Spain!
After traveling for twenty four hours straight, I am now in San Sebastian, Spain!! And I'm completely in love with this country already! The people have been so friendly, the air is warm and humid, the food is great, and like Guatemala, the days fluctuate every hour between clouds and rain and bright sun. I feel so completely at home that I'm quite sure I'll be coming back very soon!
This house is INCREDIBLE! It was built in the late 1800s/ early 1900s, and it comes complete with grand piano, intricately carved wooden staircases, suits of armor on display, a dumb waiter, century-old portraits, the musty smell of age, and gorgeously warped stained glass windows- so warped they look as though they're threatening to melt down onto the grand staircase beneath them.
The house is a maze. It has four stories, one underground, and each level is the size of a house. Below are the old servants quarters, and the real kitchen, now all used as storage. A dumbwaiter connects all four levels, as well as a back staircase (the blue one), and a grand master staircase connects the two main levels. You can see it here, lined with portraits of the old masters and adorned with stained glass windows to light each step. It is absolutely gorgeous. The garden has statues and exotic flowers, and if you lean out the window and look to the right, there is a beach a hundred feet away across the road.
The town is located in a tiny cove at the northeastern corner of Spain, kissing the border of France. We're going to take a day trip into France. :)
It's Guatemala, but cleaner and more civilized. I love it. love it. LOVE IT!
More photos to come! :)
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