spooked

i'm not even going to pretend i understand halloween. i mean, for a lot of people i know it's their favorite holiday (if it's really considered a holiday, i mean i never got the day off from work or school) and i get that. the allure of dressing up as someone else for any reason is a gas, but to have everyone else doing it at the same time, that's wild. and then you've got the candy being handed out from door to door, are you kidding me? this is like a foster kid's fantasy! and as we all got older there may have been this added attraction of something dangerous about to blow in the downtowns, like the festival scene in star trek "return of the archons" episode. all understandable.
but as i've gotten older, and watched my kids grow into this i'm always struck by some of its more sinister nature. and sure, there's a tendency i think to reel from it. i know as i drive by some people's homes this time of year i'm always a little dumbstruck with the thought that i'm surrounded by sociopaths. i know there is a spiritual realm at play here as well. anyway, this is where we live now. and so tonight we'll probably walk around the corner and visit a block party we got invited to. which is a great time to meet some of our new neighbors. also it doesn't hurt that there will be candy.

straining my ear to
hear a message from above
satisfies my soul

parallel universes

I live in 2 parallel worlds. the past and the present. the future is in front of me and lately i have found it difficult to to stay in the present. i keep time shifting. i'm not doing it on purpose. i'll be sitting with someone at a dinner party talking, trying to stay engaged in conversation, and suddenly i feel my body pulled out and pushed back in time. it happened recently and as the conversation diminished i was 20 years back in time in another place.
sometimes geography triggers it. if i roll past an old and familiar place suddenly the strong memories of that place will take me back to another time, perhaps an incident that left an indelible impression that has not been fully processed. i know you are thinking i am just talking about strong memories here, but it is more than that. even as time never stops pushing all of us forward there are unfinished moments that require us to journey back and engage again.
i will continue to navigate between these 2 worlds even as i press forward. just bear with me if even as we're talking i occasionally appear to be somewhere else.

a spark set to blaze
lit a flame so long ago
and is still burning

happy birthday babe. from a chicago alley to chicago pizza tonight in berkeley. you are my wife and the mother of my children, but you're also this little girl. i love you!

even the dragon
whose mouth breathes fire the shape of
man still serves a king

viva italia!

some photos from a recent italian car and motorcycle show in nearby alameda. my boys and i went out on a sunday afternoon and walked around and i snapped a few of my favorites. too many to include here fairly. in a time when good design reflected the sensibilities and flavor of each region, the italians always did it with such class. we wonder sometimes why folks don't feel more passionate about their machines. perhaps it's a reflection of the lack of passion now put into them. everything so much the same. no surprises. when i parked cars up on telegraph hill in san francisco, occasionally some oddball little car would show up, and the driver left you the keys and wondering whether you could figure out how to operate his ride. i miss that. the peculiarities and the sense of adventure in figuring out the small details, like how to find the ignition. anyway, enjoy this little taste of italy.

like something george jetson might fly home


the fabulous alfa romeo badge and grill

i met the owner of this one today. a real beaut from count augusta's wonderful obsession

reaching for outer space while holding tightly to the road. viva! (and godspeed marco)

the glass stained our hearts
and cut deeply into the
past we'd swept away

seeking out the familiar today in a new old world of strange...

living out now what
they promised you years ago
the time of your life

friday toy round-up

been away from the game for so long i've forgotten some of its rhythms. like this. i just came across these photos some of my guys had taken before we moved. the illustration of play. an adventure documented. if only digital photography had been available when i was a lad. i leave the back story and conclusion to this tale up to you...

cranked

who says cars don't come with hand crank windows anymore?

things of yesterday

begin to fade slowly in

the rear view mirror

old and new

i have been at my new gig now just over a month, although it feels greatly accelerated. although i have been hanging around this place for the last 25 years, it still feels weird to be working here. and things i hadn't ever paid attention to before, i'm now beginning to notice. so i thought i'd share some that have popped out in recent days, and give you a sense of some of the more interesting images that have stopped me in my tracks these past weeks. (above, vintage motor oil cans sitting on top of an also vintage snap-on box)

(a leftover hubcap from joe's now gone, ten year 41' plymouth convertible project)


(nice typography layout on a floorwax bottle?)


(where the men go)


(where the women go, which is always nicer)

a thousand sunsets
comforted me from this shore
i sit here again

the trade offs

author mark twain spoke of his great love for the river as a boy. how he loved to be near it, running along its muddy banks watching the sun dance on the water. and as he ran up and down the river bank he was ever fascinated by the river boats that navigated it. like their rail bound counterparts the men who captained these vessels were held in high esteem. one can only wonder what went through twain's young mind as he watched the solitary figure of the river boat captain at his post, keeping eye on the river, and maybe catching his gaze, nodding back to the young boy.
as twain grew he studied diligently to achieve the post of river boat captain, and in fact his pen name "mark twain" is actually a nautical term which refers to a safe depth for river boats. after he had achieved this goal and had been a pilot on the river for some time, he reflected on all that he had given up in doing so. as a captain he was obligated to be constantly on watch for hazards and conditions on the river way that might require quick action from him. he commanded a crew and had to earn and keep their respect. he had the safety of a vessel, its cargo and passengers as his responsibility. and in all of this he realized one day that he had lost the carefree easy attitude that had drawn him to the river in the first place. the poetry and sunsets were gone to him replaced by cold facts which he had taken so much care to absorb as he'd learned his trade.
and so the question is was he better for it? i imagine old sam clemens, now at the pilot house of his own river boat, and as he gazed intently at all that was before him, i see another small boy running to catch site of him. perhaps twain paused from all his work for a moment, nodded to the boy and gave a toot from the steam whistle as the process began anew. and i too am now beginning to feel like old sam.

this box containing
the fix for all of our wounds
feels emptier now

thirteen-an explanation

"3 days back and a day off again? what's with this toastrobot?" actually it has been a time honored observance since this all started, if you take a look back you'll see. it began as an accident, and before i discovered you can actually go back and post supplemental entries, it became a thing. not that i'm superstitious about it. i did however like the fact that much like many of the old high rise buildings which are missing a 13th floor, my little bloggie skipped over that one as well. although, for all the really superstitious people out there who did work on the 14th floor all those years, don't you think they knew?

difficult now to
begin again the journey
a door blocked by time

new life

it's a little like starting over now. a month gone and no posts to mark the passage of time. the process had become second nature to me, almost like a religion. and so a time of sabbatical was called for. it was not planned, but as days stretched into weeks it became clear it was needed. as the song says "time it was, and what a time it was, it was a time of innocence, a time of confidences. long ago, it must be, i have a photograph, preserve your memories, they're all that's left you"
it is different now. so often life hums along at an even pace transforming slowly, almost unnoticeably, but sometimes it crashes through a door, marking a clear point of delineation from one world to the next. this has happened. and as i try to sort out this new life i will endeavor to share it. for now i'm still reeling. everything has changed and everything remains the same. i'm slipping through time now, backward and forward. you may want to grab a handle, things might get bumpy from here on out...

the process repeats
itself over and over
until we are clean