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!
Last weekend’s Midnites for Maniacs was an evening devoted to the work of French director Jean-Pierre Jeunet. I’d not heard his name prior to last week, but now I’m a big fan.
I could wax lyrical about loving three day weekends (and I do!), but here’s three other things…
The time has come.
I’ve made the switch.
I have crossed over to the Dark Side.
Today has been a hard day. I was off kilter before I even woke up. I left home without my glasses. I cried on BART over a most unbelievably sad podcast. The first email of the day was one of those passive aggressive critical emails that makes you want to upend your desk and walk out for good. And then I saw the date: 05/05/15. It all made sense. It’s been exactly ten years since we lost our Grandpa. Pa. And whilst daily life has marched on and the sadness abated to a dull hum, it never truly leaves you. So tonight when I returned home, I pulled out my Kikki.K box filled with all my sentimental things: photos, notes, trinkets. I made a mental note to bring these things out more often, to surround myself with memories and more of my past. They shouldn’t be hidden away like they seem to be right now. I poured over the photos of a man who was once a giant to me and strong as an ox. …
When you attend a school with a strict uniform policy, there’s very specific rules about how you conform, lest you be sent home with a note requesting immediate replacement of unsuitable item of clothing. The one thing Mum and I always fought about was shoes.