Open the pod bay door Hal’s...

Had lunch today at Hal’s, a place Beth had recommended in Venice. I guess you would call it “upscale casual”—they have live jazz on Sundays and Mondays. It’s in that Abbott Kinney area of Venice with lots of nice strolling and shopping to be had.

One of the finest sandwiches I’ve ever eaten, a tuna melt, but with really fine tuna and cheese. Lexie had a nice salad with duck.

Looked at the website and they had a funny description (copious air parentheses intact and original, not sure why):
The bartenders are some of the nicest ever, so “people of all ages” “gather like flies” in this “upscale” “hangout” “on the hippest street” in Venice; “local artists”, “young professionals” and “divorcées” “meet” here at “martini time” and, hopefully “get the digits” from each other.

I just went in with my own “fine lady” to get a “sandwich,” so I didn’t leave with any “digits.”

Also stopped at a little jewelry/beadery called The Goddess to feed my bead habit. Like the idea of jewelry components being souvenirs from all over and having some kind of special-ness.

Santa Barbara.

Very pretty drive to Santa Barbara. Still amazed at how the terrain is sort of the same, but different. All of these accidental gardens everywhere.

Santa Barbara was recommended by Lexie’s lovely host Tamara. It’s a beautiful city. We wandered about in the old town for a bit. Saw the mission, which is pretty sadly maxed out with commercial tchotchkes. Toured thru the old city hall which is still in use. It was actually the rebuilt version after the earthquake, but still is pretty old and gorgeous.

We had lunch at a place where Lex and her friend Erica had eaten when they came thru here back in 2004.

Did a quick spin thru the Santa Barbara Museum of Art. They had a fabulous Rufino Tamayo retrospective up. I like his work a lot more than I’d always thought, never seen this much of it. Work from the 20s through the late 80s.

Back in LA, listening to Morning Becomes Eclectic and about to be making some morning tea and oatmeal.

The long and winding road.

Left beautiful Carmel Valley this morning and drove the incredibly long and winding road from there down to San Luis Obispo, where we’re staying in a punky little hotel for the night.

The coastal road, down past Big Sur, etc. was one of the most spectacular drives I’ve ever made in this great country of ours. Was always told that this part of the world would remind me of the west coast of Ireland—one of my favorite places. And it does.

Breathtakingly beautiful.

Props to Jeff Summers, my friend and good neighbor State Farm agent, who recommended the restaurant where we had lunch today, a place called Nepenthe, near Big Sur. I had kind of forgotten where it was, then all of a sudden saw a sign and whipped off the road. Good lunch, with amazing views of the coast.

Tired, watching Jack Black in School of Rock, then passing out.

Do you know the way to San Jose?

Why yes, I actually DO now. Took the 101 south out of the Bay Area. So in case you need to know. That’s the way. Or at least a way.

Nice trip down the coast. Drove through Carmel, mostly because I didn’t know there was a separate exit for Carmel Valley. It’s really beautiful out here. Merv Griffin has a house on a ridge over near here. I wonder how Old Uncle Merv is these days...

Drove through an astonishing range of landscapes from Frisco to here.

I saw this woman in Pat’s this morning who reminded me that most tourists—like most people in general—look at a lot of things, but really see very little. Heard her say “been there, done that” to the waitress, and it kind of confirmed my theory. That’s got to be one of my least favorite phrases. One of the things I’ll pinch people for when I get old.

Rocky Raccoon, checked into his room...

You know you’re not in the South any more when you open the top drawer in the hotel where you’re staying and there’s the old Gideon bible...but also a copy of Teachings of the Buddha.

Yesterday was a big driving-around-the-city day. Got lost on the way to the Golden Gate somehow and a driving adventure (mis-adventure) that would have induced a panic attack 6 months ago wasn’t even able to ruffle me in the least.

This is an absolutely insane driving city. All the one-ways, the bus/streetcar/cablecar lanes. The symbol of driving here for me is coming up to an intersection with a “no left turn” sign...and a “no right turn” sign...kept imagining i was going to pull up to one that also had a “no going straight/backing up/or turning around” sign.

Signs, signs, everywhere signs...blocking out the scenery breaking my mind. Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the signs?

Did the tour at Arion Press yesterday. Met some great folks, and it far exceeded any expectations. Andrew Hoyem was in LA for a few days, so didn’t get to meet him. Highly recommended for anybody who likes books, art, artist’s books, type, tours, people...

Went to a thing for Dave Warnke with Julie last night. A program he’s working with to help teach street kids to turn their street art more in the art direction and less in the crime direction. Very cool. Met some lovely people. A girl with the biggest, bluest eyes clearly had a crush on me...but she was Dave’s nine-month-old daughter...We had a nice Italian dinner at L’Osteria in North Beach after driving around for a small eternity looking for a parking spot.

Headed down to Carmel Valley to see my sweetie today, then we’re heading back to LA along the coast.

That’s Pat!

In a very friendly spot around the corner from my hotel. Pat’s, nice little coffee shop cafe, with good music, nice people, and wi-fi! Didn’t have any yesterday. Couldn’t check email or anything, egads!

The Hotel San Remo is great! A little noisy, but they make earplugs for that. Such a funny little place, was apparently a shelter briefly after the earthquake and the fire. Restaurant next door claims to be the oldest Italian restaurant in the country Fior D’Italia—I don’t have much Italian, but i’m pretty sure since Fiorello Laguardia was “the little flower”, it means “Flower of Italy.” Funky all-over-the-place art some fake some really legit. Old drawings, prints etc. Plants everywhere. Heard four languages while I was checking in...

The hotel gave me a discount coupon, so I had a really nice meal over there last night. Some beautiful ravioli with pumpkin and sage and other tasty stuff. Yum. Also one of those Negroni cocktails made with campari!

Yesterday was kind of blurry. Got up at 4.30 to leave for the airport. Yikes. Got in too early to check in, but the nice people checked me in early, and I called Anne and lay down til I heard back from her. She’d had a meeting on the Embarcadero and came by and picked me up. Then we stepped back in time...went with her to her swim club on the Bay, The Dolphin Club. She had shot images there for Darol Anger’s last record that I worked on. Beautiful old boats, old guys, old pictures, old trophies, people swimming in the cold water. I wandered around and took pictures while she swam, talked to a couple of the old guys. She’s been a member for about five years, but i think it’s been running since 1887 or something.

We walked for a while and had lunch at a place in North Beach, called something with the word “cigar” in it. Groovy old place. Had a great panini and a beer and hung out and talked. She had to go pick up her son from school, so we parted company and I went to the Museé Mecanique. Dan Brawner had told me about it years ago, when it was in the Hill House. It’s at one of the piers on Fisherman’s Wharf now. Great crazy old machines...arcade things, creepy laughing dolls, 3D pictures of the earthquake, zooetropes...took some nice pictures.

Heard from Julie Mcfadden while I’ve been eating breakfast. Going to a thing for Dave Warnke with her tonight.

Taking a tour of The Arion Press over in the Presidio this afternoon, one of the presses that does some of the beautiful books in the Wilson Collection at the Nashville Public Library.

Pink schmink.

So I’m not really all up on it, but I’m pretty sure Pink is one of those clothing labels like Juicy, that puts its name right there across a woman’s ass. Free advert and an invite to gawk and possibly comment.

I was just at Ralph’s picking up a few things and I kept running up behind somebody’s little sagging old grandmother wearing a sweatsuit with “Pink” emblazoned across her backside. She may have been given this thing by her grandchildren, who think she’s the hippest grandma ever. She may be thought of as “wild and crazy” by her neighbors at Golden Age Gardens. I don’t wanna be judgin’—but I don’t want to be invited to stare at somebody’s grandma’s ass...

I guess nobody would put “Dignity Schmignity” across their ass as an ironic gesture.

Happy belated birthday.

Catching up on some of my regular podcasts today—one being The Writer’s Almanac—and realised that Friday April 13th, the day I left Nashville (a very lucky Friday the 13th indeed), was the shared birthday of three of my favorite writers.

Kind of the opposite of that thing when three famous people die on the same day.

Seamus Heaney, Eudora Welty, and Samuel Beckett...a belated Happy Birthday to you all.

Open your golden gates.

[[As an aside, sorry for not posting more photos, I don't have any image software on this new laptop and the images from my new Canon 5D are huge]]

Gearing up to head up to San Francisco tomorrow for a few days. Looking forward to meeting Anne Hamersky after working with her on a bunch of Compass projects over the last ten years or so.

Staying in a cool, funky, affordable little Victorian place that Anne and Scott recommended called the San Remo Hotel (see pic at left). I would normally say I’m not a shared-bathroom-down-the-hall kind of guy, but what the hell...I’m on an adventure, and it’s San Francisco, flowers in your hair and all...

Spending the day planning, packing, etc. Slightly dreading that I have to get up before 5 in the morning to make my Alaska Airlines commuter flight, but I’ll survive.

Tiiiime is on my side...yes it is.

One of the really nice things about having the amount of time I’ve got out here is that you can just take time to feel what mundane things are like. Going to the grocery store, washing clothes, listening to the radio (Indy 103.1 and KCRW are my faves). The things that make up so much of life. Also you can do some serious sleeping in...

Just went by the Marina post office and encountered some of the rudest USPS workers that I’ve ever dealt with. They had that “I’ll treat you as a human being, but only just barely” attitudinal deviation down pat. I was being my best please-and-thank-you person, and still they were awful. Maybe they’re in some kind of a**hole competition. I’d vote for them.

Finished William Gibson’s All Tomorrow’s Parties yesterday. Typically fine. Nobody does that sort of future-world thing better. Went through a tremendous jag of reading his books a few years ago. Read Neuromancer, Burning Chrome, Mona Lisa Overdrive, Virtual Light and Idoru, almost without a pause.

Upright Citizens.

Went with Kim last night to see a couple of shows at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater. After an early dinner at Tender Greens in lovely downtown Culver City (which Beth had put on my list of things to do).

The Scientology Celebrity Center is across the street, looking like a fabulous old European embassy or something. Only in Los Angeles. “Come out of the closet, Tom Cruise!” Wondered what might be going on over there...

UCB is improv comedy that came from Chicago and has planted itself in LA and NY. Three of the longer running members (minus Amy Poehler) ran the first show, a long-form improv, with five other performers. Must say, the fact that the first show was FREE really influenced my take on it. When you pay 20 bucks to see somebody, they damn well better be good. Free is good.

The second show cost something. A dollar. It featured Jeff Garlin from Curb Your Enthusiasm and Bob Odenkirk from the fabulous Mr. Show. There was supposed to be a third, but he was sick with food poisoning and another regular UCB guy gamely stood in for him. I’m not too familiar with CYE, but Garlin is a funny, sweet, middle-aged guy with A.D.D. (or so he says, and I believe him). They were just taking turns riffing off each other starting with a loose thread. Only knew Mr. Show in little samples courtesy of Bill Demain, but it was a treat seeing Odenkirk.

A very good night of fun for a dollar (that’s only Sunday night, but all of their performances are cheap to free) plus a small valet cost.

Ah, Venezia.

The gondoliers, the sinking buildings...oh, wait, different Venice.

Spent today riding a bike and walking around Venice. Mostly an incredible crush of las touristas, being Saturday and all. It was really nice feeling wind and being by the ocean for a good chunk of time. First time since being out here.

Boardwalk awash in hippy scent and freaks for hire. Watched some disco skaters bustin’ their best moves. And some amateur skatepunks bustin’ a two foot half-pipe. Watched a crusty old hippy playing piano, took some pictures of him—he said I couldn’t take pictures if I didn’t tip him...so I tipped him. He was pretty great, playing an old gutted upright with a custom paint job.

Rode along for a bit with a guy who was nearly being pulled by this tiny little dog, who was running three feet in front of the guy’s bike, like his life depended on it. Hellhound on my trail. Small terrier with the heart of a huge sled dog.

Talked to a guy named Tim Rudnick on the Pier for a while. He works with something called the Venice Oceanarium. Lifelong Venice resident, probably sixtyish. Described their thing as “a museum without walls” they had a little tent set up at the end of the pier telling kids about marine life, catching plankton, looking at stuff under a microscope...said they have a big grunion party coming up, when the grunion come up on the beaches to mate—and also a weekend where they set up and read Moby Dick in its entirety. Big fun.

Working out my East Coast/West Coast bias. Always thought you had to be one or the other. New York or LA. Dogs or cats. Paper or plastic...like that. Always thought I was mos’ def’ a New York person—thought you needed the extremity of harsh winters to keep your yin yanged—but, you know, I could really dig being somewhere where it’s just so freakin’ nice...most all the time. Is that so rawng?

I feel most pleasantly exhausted from all the biking. Have been way out of an exercise routine of any sort for a while. May head down for a little splashin’-around-the-pool time, then a hot bath. Or maybe just a hot bath. Damn, if this ain’t the life of Riley. (Can’t say “Thank you” enough to my lovely patrons, Beth and Thom!)

Henry the Human Vegetable.

Today seemed like a day to watch some tube, read (started reading a copy of William Gibson’s “All Tomorrow’s Parties” I found in the apartment—my other books seemed too heavy) and eat. So...mission accomplished—and the day’s not over yet...

Do not judge me for my inactivity, gentle reader—for yesterday I swam and worked out on a treadmill in the gym.

Getty up (again).

Went back to the Getty today, been there since ten this morning. Very different crowd, lot's of school kids. The amazing thing is, despite the seemingly enormous crowd, the place is so spread out I never got into that blockbuster-show-in-New-York kind of crush.

Went back through Tim Hawkinson, Sigmar Polke and John Humble—then hit the bulk of the permanent collection, which is fabulous.

Saw a couple of the finest Degas that I’ve seen anywhere. One I think was called “The Milliners” the other was a portrait of a woman (she may have been in a sanitorium, can't remember). Tons of amazing antiquities—esp.classical sculpture.

A beautiful Van Gogh “Irises”—a couple of great Rembrandt portraits (esp. one of an old man dressed as a soldier, with a feathered cap)—that huge James Ensor painting “Christ’s Entry into Brussels in 1889”—one of my absolute favorite things...a little wood sculpture of a head by Gauguin, with horns.

Such an amazing cornucopia of work, such a great physical setting, and hats off to Richard Meier for the stunning architectural triumph that is the Getty campus. If I lived in Los Angeles, Getty membership would be a must. It’s just one of those places that takes a lot of digging.

I’ve really learned to parcel out my energy in museums over the years. Didn't look at everything, just looked hard at a few things.

Sorry ice cream...

...I’m on my way to Pink Berry.

Just had my first taste of Pink Berry. Trendy new frozen yogurt boutique. Very plastic design-y. You can add in fruit, or things like fruity pebbles or cap’n crunch. So it can feel “healthy”—or not. People apparently are driving for miles, and even getting parking tickets just to sample this nectar. I think the Pink Berry folks are originally Korean, not clear on that. No history on the website, just colorful happiness and hype.

Pink Berry...yum.

Getty up.

Oatmeal. Jasmine tea. KCRW...wait a minnit, what is this, Groundhog Day? It’s just nice having comfortable new habits to make this feel home-ish.

First trip tp the Getty yesterday. Kim Baum went out with me. We barely scratched the surface, so I’ll definitely go back a time or two.

Favorite things were:

Work by Tim Hawkinson—who I remembered from that Art21 series on PBS. Very select but tasty little exhibit. Called “Zoopsia”—something about hallucinations of animals. Also this giant installation floating above the main entrance hall called “überorgan”—a lot like the ductwork in “Brazil”—plays music every hour from a big player piano-type roll. Seem to remember it from Art21.

Photographs of Los Angeles by John Humble. Beautiful urban landscapes shot on an NEA grant. Got the book, but haven't had a chance to look at it yet.

Sigmar Polke photographs from late 60s–early 70s. Was always inspired by his experimentation and sloppy-ness. These photographs seem pretty timeless

The buildings and the gardens. Wow. What a great place to be a gardener. Amazing to see an architectural project like this that seemed to have no budgetary constraints. Nice that it’s free to the public.

Had a very nice dinner with my friends Joshua and Moira at their lovely Craftsman house in Hollywood. Joshua and I met in Ireland while traveling two decades ago and have managed to become and stay good friends, despite seeing each other much too infrequently.

I helped him and his biz partner John work on some packaging for some great wine cataloging and food pairing software called The Personal Wine Curator. Check it out.

Eclectic again.

Slept in a little this morning. Oatmeal. Jasmine tea. Nik Harcourt and Morning Becomes Eclectic becomes my habit. Very overcast, might go to the Getty today.

Yesterday was a total chill. Reading—started “All the Pretty Horses”—more napping—TV watching—and TWO big outings to Ralph’s!

Ralph’s!

Big outing yesterday was a trip to the Ralph’s down the street. Went to just pick up a couple of things and was grabbing stuff like I had never been in a grocery before. And wine!

My old friend Kim Baum came over last night and we ordered out some good Thai and had a good time catching up after a few years.

I slept in like the dead this morning. Up listening to KCRW’s Morning Becomes Eclectic on the radio, and enjoying a nice bowl of McCann’s Irish oatmeal with fruity bits.

Home alone.

Took the kids to the airport this morning. Heard the Chili Peppers’ “Californication” first thing on the car radio.

Back at the house and feeling like doing a whole lotta nothin’ for a day or so. Looking forward a long hot bath tonight and some wine on the roof. Just the realisation that I don’t HAVE to DO anything, or WORRY about anything...well...it’s pretty incredible.

I’m thinking maybe a nap, then down to the pool for a little reading. Brought Alfred Kazin’s “A Lifetime Burning In Every Moment” (from his lifetime of journals) and Cormac McCarthy’s “All The Pretty Horses” (one I’ve never felt like I had time to dive into—here’s that rainy day).

Got turned on to Cold Stone Creamery’s cake batter ice cream first night here, looking like a toss-up whether i'll lose any weight out here...although I AM going to start practising tai-chi, with my “tai-chi-in-a-box” kit I bought from Target before leaving Nashville...

Mr. Helen Mirren.

First celeb sighting... Producer/director Taylor Hackford, a.k.a Mr. Helen Mirren, at the restaurant Ago (like Spago without the “sp”)—great Italian, backed by Bobby DeNiro and the Weinsteins.

A woman with tremendous teased-up, prom-queen blonde hair was reading her date the riot act a few tables away, his overly cosmeticised face barely registering dismay.

The waiters may have been real Italians, or they may have been central casting Italian-like actors from Peoria. But they were nice.

Marina Del HEY!

Woke up in a semi-stupor at Thom and Beth’s this morning, so I’m pretty sure I made it alive. The in-between was a little blurry. Somehow, even though I didn’t actually sleep on the plane other than being a little dozy, being so tired made the four hour flight fly by (no pun intended).

Made a lovely new friend, Nicole, who was going from Tennessee to see family in Long Beach. Always a crap-shoot who you wind up sitting next to, but this was a definite win. We watched a lot of TV with no sound and laughed at things that probably weren’t funny, but looked that way.

The Marina is really beautiful. Went up on the roof and out to the pool with the little Holden man this morning, but the weather got blustery and chill. They’re leaving tomorrow, and I’ve got a feeling I’ll be spending quite a bit of time next few days up on the roof at night with a bottle of wine, staring out at the glittering lights of this sprawling city of angels and devils.

Homeless.

Today it’s official. Turned in my keys and paid for the extra days in the house. The 1-800-GOT-JUNK guys came in and cleaned up the remaining mess. Off to Cali this evening.

A big shout out to all who helped with the getting out—without whom it would have been utterly impossible, despite my relatively well-laid plans: Bryce, Dan, Jerry Dale, Ali, Amy, Brad, Erin, Josh, Laura, Kahlil, Britt, Roger, David, Scott...and Capucine and Lexie, who cheerleaded like champs. (If i forgot anybody, forgive me, email me, berate me...my mind is mush).

The whole thing has broken my back and my mind. Will probably mostly sleep for a few days when i get out to LA, but things get lighter by the hour. Running for the barn...

Plucky Little Birds.

I was driving home today and saw something that never fails to encourage me.

A little tiny sparrow was diving at a big old retreating crow. Despite the inevitable disney-fied images of animals that we tend to conjure up, I could imagine hearing him saying, “Come on you big bastard...pick on my kids again, I’ll tear your f***ing eyes out!” It’s always heartening somehow to see little guys making it—or at least taking a shot. Realising that maybe they’re not big, bad-ass birds, but that through courage and plucky determination, by golly, they can take on the big guys. Of course sometimes I guess they get eaten by hawks...

Anyway, this is the metaphor for my new big adventure. I’m not totally sure why...

The movers come tomorrow. I turn over the keys on Monday. Off to California on Tuesday...banjo on my knee.