Tuesday, March 31, 2009


the bands of muscles strapped across my shins unleashed a burning scream against the current wanting to waver like strands of seaweed in the tide. if i let myself stop and pay attention to my body it was heaving. my lungs were burning, filling my mouth with the taste of metallic blood as if i had just finished the annual high school mile. and when I went to use my arms they shook and wobbled beneath the weight of my body. but none of that mattered once i was perched upon the board that was perched upon a wave that was headed toward shore. my arms stretched long away from the sides of my body and the sea pushed me along with its natural course. ending seemed impossible, but when it did I rolled back into the sea and saw only the line of rollers waiting to take me for another ride, and the pleas of my body fell away as i mounted the next wave.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Maria Forde

Looking at Maria Forde's drawings I was certain of one thing...I wanted to be her friend. Her show at Needles and Pens on Friday night consisted of a series of drawings with cut out bits of text bearing advice from each person pictured, such as, "Please recycle", and, "My mom says you should never buy a new car". Each sketch was simple, but beautifully rendered bearing each pencil mark and brush stroke. Her subjects engaged you in an old fashioned staring contest as they glared at you from off the paper. Each person's first name was carved out of the bottom portion of the frame as if knifed from the bark of a tree deep in the woods to seal some childhood pact. Maria’s plain subject matter, frank advice, and genuine drawing style gave true testament to the simple and modest midwestern mentality. There was nothing flashy, or fake about any aspect of Maria's show, and knowing that there is still a person who finds value in sharing and celebrating such simple truths is someone I want to be friends with.

You can see her drawings at Needles and Pens until April 26th.
Get to know Maria

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

"I Always Like It Hard!"

As most of you know I am working at a lovely little travel store in Hayes Valley. The store is cleverly designed like the cabin of an airplane with rounded corners curving over the five hundred dollar Jack Spade bags and twirling racks of travel books. The crowed that frequents this store is pretty tame for the most part ranging from poodle toting all male couples to families just passing the time after a leisurely Sunday brunch. The shoppers often come in waves leaving myself and my fellow retailer sharing stories of our previous nights out, or discussing the latest in fashion or film.

However, one afternoon our banter was abruptly disrupted when a tall thin man swaggered in, followed by an equally as tall, but not so thin woman in her fifties. The two of them were mid-discussion as they passed the threshold of our doors deliberating about the appropriate suitcase. The man in front asked, "Well, do you want a hard or a soft case?” and the third member of their party entered the store exclaiming, "You know I always like it hard!” He was thick, and burnt brown from some source unknown to me because San Francisco has been nothing but rainy for the past two weeks. Thick bands of black barbed wire were inked around his biceps, and his shoulders had swallowed his neck whole. Despite many obvious obstacles he still managed to walk with some swivel to his hips, and his meticulously manicured facial hair, and ringed fingers made for an interesting composition. After examining a few cases, true to his word, he not only bought the hardest, but also the biggest suitcase in the store.