| Appalachian Dispatch |
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I’m going on vacation for a week. I’ll be in Tennessee at The Appalachian Institute of Jurassic Being and Nothingness. I’ll fill you all in when I get back! Until then, enjoy surfing through Cyberspace without me! |
I spent the last week in New York, visiting my good friend (and fellow Davis High School alumni), Herrie Son. Her boyfriend, cinematic wunderkind Kyle Komline, took us to the Explorer’s Club - a pseudo-secret society of Upper East Side geriatrics dedicated to traveling the globe and eating tea and cookies in dedadent trophy rooms. I won’t go into detail, I’ll just tell you that if you have two legs and live in New York you owe it to yourself to find your way to one of their public events. And they’re only five dollars with student I.D.! We also went to classy, intimidating men’s clothiers Turnbull and Asser and Jay Kos, and a masqued ball at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Mimi Zora took me to a WGA screening of the new Woody Allen movie (stop it Woody, just stop it) and a hilariously bad T.G.I. Friday’s in Times Square. I did all the requisite vintage shopping in Williamsburg with Herrie, and my formerly cyberspace-friend Michael took me to a crazy Chinese supermart and a Project Runway 4 party in Park Slope. I sat in on some NYU classes, including one taught by Antonio Monda. All in all, it was fun. And that’s how I spent my vacation! Would you like to look at some pictures? You can do that, after the jump. |
I had no idea where we were going at 8:00am on a Monday morning, but I was ready for anything. My boyfriend, Rudy, was taking me to an undisclosed location for an all-day birthday surprise. Technically, my 20th birthday was on Tuesday– so this was my final day as a teenager– the last dawn before my bones would begin turning to dust, as all things must. As we exited the freeway, I figured we were going to Catalina Island, as the only other obvious destination at the exit in question was the Long Beach Aquarium, and we had been there for our anniversary. The ferry ride over was Rudy’s first boat trip, another indelible benchmark in one’s life. Luckily, he enjoyed the sensation of seafaring travel. As we pulled away from the shore, we could see a dark cloud hovering over the entire horizon– the ashes of half a million acres blowing off into the Pacific. Living in Los Angeles, you get used to this smog… but this is something else entirely. For the past three days, there has been a sepia tone filter covering the sky, causing the normally flattering sunlight to become a harsh reddish-orange. Catalina, however, was a pleasant distraction from the havoc raging throughout Southern California. Neither Rudy nor I had ever been to the island, and I was excited to find it an even more peaceful, magical place than I had imagined. We spent the day exploring the town of Avalon, rather than exploring the untamed interior (about 20 square miles of wilderness, where wild Bison roam). In Avalon (population 3,100), the de rigeur mode of transportation is golf cart. There are many beautiful homes that reminded me of Bay Area architecture, and the “downtown” area is filled with every kind of touristy business you can imagine. Most of the tourists were on their way out as we arrived, returning home from their weekend reprieves. We wandered the beach alone and took a bus tour of the area with about a dozen other quiet visitors. We played a game of air hockey in an abandoned arcade, ate at a couple of fully satisfying restaurants and completed 18 holes of miniature golf. Check out my pictures after the jump! continue reading |
I went up north for a week to get my car repaired, spend some time with my mom before her 53rd birthday, and relax in Sea Ranch with my friends Carla and Alexa. Sea Ranch is a beautiful seaside town where Carla’s parents own a beach house, and herds of deer graze in everyone’s backyards. We listened to Lionel Richie, played Scattegories, and watched Al Gore’s television network by satellite. We also went for walks in the woods, took trips to Tolkein-esque chapels, and tried to ride our bikes through the ocean to Tokyo, but failed. |
This weekend Rudy and I went up to Santa Barbara to visit Jeppe, Rudy’s co-DJ at Break-A-Way, a.k.a. “Senior” of Junior Senior. Jeppe had been wanting to take a break from of the fast paced party-all-the-time world of Los Angeles for some months, so he finally decided to rent a cottage by the sea, surrounded by exotic flora and tropical birds. We arrived in the early afternoon on Saturday, right before Jeppe left for a behind-the-wheel American driving lesson. To kill time while he was gone, Rudy and I sauntered about on the main drag of town, crowded with bored Laguna Beach hos and their rich mothers, pansy gangsters and shirtless hobos. In the Sak’s Fifth Avenue of Santa Barbara, a grandmother of tired glamour informed the shopgirl, “Everyone gives me compliments on these earrings. But they just look good because I’m wearing them.” Outside, a lackluster anti-war group marched down the street, rousing little interest. At a record store sale, there was nothing but copies of Labouche and Salt-N-Pepa and Jewel and every other 90s pop act you can vaguely remember. I did manage to find a Carpenters four-disc box set for $16. When Rudy asked one of the employees to get it from behind the counter, she sassed, “Are you sure you don’t want the Barbara Streisand box set?” Bitch. We also purchased a Slumber Party Massacre double feature. continue reading |
I spent the holiday in Big Bear, a small town two hours northeast of Los Angeles. My roommate Sarah’s parents have a cabin up there, so she invited me and Rudy, and Liz and her boyfriend Corndawg, up to the mountains for New Year’s Eve. I documented the trip, trying to start the year off right… with a video blog. |
