Today is the 4th of July. Independence Day. I woke this morning, cooked myself patriotic pancakes (purple ones, a combination of the distinct lack of red and blue food coloring), then took a long, meandering wander along the canals. I watched people BBQ on their back decks, clothed in red, white or blue (or a combination of both), proudly flying the Stars and Stripes from their second stories. And really, you couldn’t have asked for a more glorious day here in the Bay Area. No one does patriotism quite like Americans. Listening to: Anthonie Tonnon’s new album Successor. Eating: Purple coloured pancakes with Canadian maple syrup Drinking: Chai Doing: Doodlin’ for ‘Murica. It’s a beautiful day for doing as much or as little as you wish. This year, it’s low key. I plan on spending the rest of the day in a food coma, only rousing for some night filming for a new short film I’m working on. Happy Birthday, ‘Murica!
This weekend is all about colour and pride here in SF, but lately, I’ve been drawn to working in black and white a lot. I’m enjoying seeing life in contrasts.
I received specific instructions from the Range Master to be early. Not on time, but early. He knew me too well.
I left for the range at the crack of sparrows. I was running late, no breakfast, wet hair. I pulled out of the driveway and drove against the traffic whilst listening to the dulcet tones of Ira Glass.
Little has changed in the Bay Area since I’d been gone — aside from rents that have increased exponentially, something everyone complains about on a daily basis here. And really, the rents are ridiculous. Getting settled always takes longer than anticipated. But I knew what to expect. I’ve taken plenty of walks, shot plenty of time lapse down by the bay. Started my new job. Mapped out the new projects for 2015. Taken a roadtrip up the coast. Reconnected with old friends. Started to catch up on the overdue obligations. It’s a interesting time. It’s still home. One of my homes. And it’s nice to be back.
But the recent felling of a young cricket star — Phillip Hughes — in the middle of the SCG, and the emotional fall out from it, it’s always a timely reminder that we have no idea what is going to happen in our lives.
I was wandering around the Inner Sunset last June, when I stumbled upon this artwork. It was prominently displayed in the window of a small business just off Judah and framed by heavy, deep blue curtains. And the visual has stayed with me since.