dusk

maritime park, oakland. june 2012.

a still-light sky and the port behind us. oh, bike party, i love you.

window mirror glass sky

oakland hills. june 2012.

i have a car now. i stayed late at work for a meeting and got out just as the sun had made up its mind to set. the air was breezy and damp, a little mean, but so refreshing after a long stuffy meeting. the light was fresh and nimble.

i dropped my things at home and sped upwards to the hills, trying to catch the last rays. almost did. top of claremont and then right, park on the side and walk along to the private hill; ignore the sign and wind through the dried grass. right leg hit by nettles. sit on a fallen tree and finally feel the cold (good thing you brought your jacket). watch the fast moving fog that must be forming right there over the bay because you see the break there but it never gets to you. then it finally does. figure out that the place where a darker blue fades to lighter faster that the rest of the sky is the earth's shadow, already overhead. let thoughts trickle through your head, not really paying attention, as the red smog deeps and layers upon itself, like icing.

jump down, walk back. find a shortcut through the windy hill roads. think about all the trips you can take now that you have wheels. think of the next place you want to watch the sunset from.

a cold spring

 

oakland. march 2012. 

a friend's back yard, after a day of rain. patterns and colors complement and clash. a bucket full of leaves, water and light. metal decorations dark on the surface.

love!

43rd street. february 2012.

happy valentine's day, everyone.

is it still winter?

43rd street. february, 2012.

16 september 2011

 (old) home. september 2011.

solstice morning

home. dec 21 2011.

it was so good to talk to you at that concert. so good to laugh and reminisce and forget about the thick crowds around us. when you reached out and casually squeezed my arm, just above the elbow, i felt it in my whole body. it was like something that was clenched loosened. my awareness turned towards you. i wanted it again, just that squeeze, that hand wrapped around my arm briefly, easily, connecting us for a moment.

i want that again, now. i want to feel your hand on my arm, i want to know you're there, standing next to me, listening and laughing and happy to be with me, just as i am happy to be with you.

at home, pre-eclipse

the other north oakland. december 2011.

sangria and limes

home. september 2011.

my thirtieth birthday bbq. a big pot of sangria (strawberries, apples, oranges, melon, figs, brandy), a bag of limes, and a bottle of chile powder. you really can't miss, with those ingredients.

wallflower

emeryville, ca. september 2011.

this building is going to be torn down, and is actually quite a nice building, but has seen too many years of neglect to be salvaged. the issue at this point is that there are homeless people living inside who would probably be crushed when the building fell down in the next earthquake. so down it comes now. in the meanwhile, this dandelion has somehow taken root in the mortar between two bricks. 

big hug

hilligas and claremont. june 2011.

bike me home, oakland

old oakland. may 2011.

street night life. swing dancing with my dad to a lucinda cover. that perfect balance of color, as if the light is running down the edges of the sky and into the street lamps. hay bales for sitting, carnival rides for laughing. el taco bike.

oh, oakland. i love you.

window sill

Raymond. 2009.

It's Amazing How Great Dancing Can Make You Feel

Home. 2009.

Calla Lilies; Towel

Home. 2010.

What can I say, I like calla lilies.