In November I got an email from Peter Meehan, who, along with David Chang, is co-editor of Lucky Peach, a quarterly foodie magazine published by McSweeney’s. They were doing an “apocalypse” issue and wondered if I had off-the-grid photos they could use.
A few months later, Christine Boepple, an LA-based writer, came up and went through about 10,000 thumbnails (in binders) of my photos.
Here’s the result, just out in the magazine. Kinda strange for me, having someone else do layout of my photos. I ended up liking what they did. The shelter stuff they chose is all pretty funky. Also pics of food from the wild and garden, preserves, roadkill furs, and kitchens from both our homestead and other places I’ve been.
There are certain less-than-glamorous homesteading chores that I am really good at. Shoveling, doing dishes, and trapping rats. Sigh.
Rats around here are not the loathsome Norwegian variety, but rather wood rats, or pack rats, which look like a big mouse, Kinda cute. In the woods, they build pyramids of twigs 3′ or so high—rat architecture—always in secluded spots, so you have to be bushwacking to come upon them. In semi-rural areas like this they cruise human habitations for easy pickins. One year I trapped over 40.
For years I used the standard wooden Victor traps and would put peanut better in a little piece of plastic (with punched holes), tied to the trigger with baggie ties. Then I started sheet-metal-screwing a 1/2″ copper pipe cap to the trigger, which I filled with p. butter.
I went through maybe 4 types of other traps until I discovered these. They have a bait cup so the rat has to tug at it, thereby releasing spring—plenty strong enough to insure fatality.
I’m writing this after getting one last night that had been eluding me for a week. Outwitted by a rat night after night.
Method: I washed 3 traps (getting rid of scent), smooshed some bacon in the cups, surrounded by smears of Skippy peanut butter—mwah!
I’ve been driving 4×4 trucks for over 30 years. The trade-off for the weight and truckiness being that I could pick up firewood, haul lumber, sacks of concrete. and go anywhere, any time. I spent 12 years 4-wheeling in Baja. Many trips to the American Southwest (always in spring). 3 long trips to British Columbia, shooting pics for Builders of the Pacific Coast. 4-wheeling it across the river to my friend Louie’s house in Mendocino county. I’ve been a truck guy forever. The latest, for my last 10 years: a 2003 Toyota 4-cylinder, 5-speed Tacoma 4×4 with metal camper shell, pull-out canopy, all-time classic tough, dependable vehicle. 140,000 miles, good for another 140. Desert Roamer. (I may sell it, and get a beater truck for local hauls.)
But there came the time, several months ago, when I realized I was through with the long truck hauls, the 3,000-mile trips, and hauling the truck over the windy roads homewards from my weekly trips into San Francisco was a chore.
I embarked on a study of cars, and ended up settling on a Honda Fit. Other contenders (in this field of scaled-down, aerodynamic SUVs) were the Toyota Yaris Liftback, Mazda 2, Scion XD, Prius C model, VW Golf diesel. The Cube too cartoony, the Scion xB too boxy. I didn’t do extensive reviews, but in the end settled on the Fit largely because of its ingenious cargo space in the rear — 4 by 5 feet with rear seats folded down. 20 cubic feet of space vs. 15 for the other cars. 4 doors and a hatchback so you can get into the rear from all sides. Like a small truck bed. (I could get into my truck bed camper shell on all 3 sides.)
I wanted to see how the Fit did on curves, since a winding mountain road is about half of my driving. I talked salesman Murray Cherkas of San Francisco Honda into letting me take a Fit across the city and then down the winding block of Lombard Street, “crookedest street in the world.” I took the 8 hairpin turns fast, and the car behaved beautifully. Sold. Read More …
We’re now entering the third industrial revolution, Anderson said. The first one, which began with the spinning jenny in 1776, doubled the human life span and set population soaring. From the demographic perspective, “it’s as if nothing happened before the Industrial Revolution.”
The next revolution was digital. Formerly industrial processes like printing were democratized with desktop publishing. The “cognitive surplus” of formely passive consumers was released into an endless variety of personal creativity. Then distribution was democratized by the Web, which is “scale agnostic and credentials agnostic.” Anyone can potentially reach 7 billion people.
The third revolution is digital manufacturing, which combines the gains of the first two revolutions. Factory robots, which anyone can hire, have become general purpose and extremely fast. They allow “lights-out manufacturing,” that goes all night and all weekend.
My friend Roger and I went on a 1-1/2 hour run—well, swift walk—in Frank’s Valley last night. Bitterly cold on the coast, but as we got deeper into the valley, and got circulation going, it got warmer. We’re about the same age, both recovering from shoulder surgery, and both San Francisco natives, so we have a lot to talk about. Last night we reminisced about the theaters on Market Street in the ’40s. The Fox (a movie palace), the Orpheum, the Warfield, the Golden Gate, the United Artists, the Esquire, and in an alley behind the Esquire, the Tivoli. Then on to the neighborhood theaters, like the Empire, The Parkside, the El Rey…
This is a photo shot with my iPhone on the way home, driving along the coast, the red lights being an approaching car. I discovered that if I touched my brakes, I saw the road reflectors light up red in my rear view mirror. So I’d touch the brake pedal every once in a while, see the string of red lights in the mirror, then focus back on the road in front. It was like a light show, with this music on Sirius Radio: Meet Me in the Morning by Bob Dylan, Rambling Man by Waylon, then Bring Back Joe by Scotty McCreery. Fahhr out!
Great pleasures can be so simple.
Now listening to Frampton Comes Alive, a great live recording made in San Francisco (at Winterland, 1975) in front of 7000 fans, when the musicians forgot they were being recorded. Frampton said they were all amazed when they heard the recording afterwards.
“Published on Jan 25, 2013
Alvin de sardine marseillaise.
Sculpture réalisée dans un tronc de poivrier, à l’occasion de l’expo “sous le signe des poissons”.
Retrouvez là dans le cadre de Marseille Provence 2013 à la maison de l’artisanat.”
Sent us from Warsaw by Julien Croisie.
(Wonderful to have sympatico connection in Poland — Julien sent us a bunch of good links. It truly is the “world wide” web.)
Pinetop Perkins playing boogie woogie now. Years ago I walked by the Sweetwater bar in Mill Valley and there was a sign saying “Tonight — Pinetop Perkins.” Yeow! I was there. He was in his ’80s, slim, wearing a purple suit with lavender tie. It was rare, like getting a chance to see Muddy Waters (who he played with). He flirted with the ladies. “Put on your high-heel sneakers, wear your wig hat on your head.…”
Last night saw Skyfall, the latest James Bond movie. I loved it. A bit overlong, but very enjoyable. Sly tongue in cheek plot w. references to the old Bond movies. Great photography, stylish graphics, good acting. Now here’s a good mainstream American movie.
Such great stuff now coming in for our new book on 20th century nomadics. It’s kinda like I’m a spectator watching all these great stories, adventures and photos come in. Book as living organism.
This Delta radial arm saw must be 50 years old. Bought it used in the ’70s. Has worked flawlessly ever since. American made. At left is a Back Revolution machine, sold by Stretching Inc. Use to invert and stretch spine. You hang upside down by yr. hips.
Time to venture out into the day. This afternoon, old friend Don Manoukian coming by. Don played for the Oakland Raiders in the late ’50s, was a professional wrestler known as “The Bruiser.” From a big Reno Armenian family, his mom was a great cook.
Several times, when I was maybe 11, my grandmother took me on what she called a toot. No, not that kind of toot. We’d take a streetcar down to Market Street (San Francisco), walk up and down past the movie houses,and then go to two movies, one after the other. A toot.
Thursday, my friend Louie and I went on a toot in San Francisco. Two old guys– 78 and 84 — country boys at that, in the Big City. I can’t believe Louie’s that old. He lives farther back in the country than I do, so the sights of the big city are a treat for him.
We went in early in the morning, first to Trouble Coffee, out by the beach. I showed Louie the v. cool restaurant Outerlands, just up the block from Trouble. Then we walked — sunny bright morning — over to Mollusc Surf Shopon Irving, a great place — surfboards, fine selection of books, wetsuits, surf clothes, then checked out the Cajun Pacific Cafe, with its colorful mural; unique restaurant. Then down to the big Flax art store on Market.
In November I got an email from Peter Meehan, who, along with David Chang, is co-editor of Lucky Peach, a quarterly foodie magazine published by McSweeney’s. They were doing an “apocalypse” issue and wondered if I had off-the-grid photos they could use.
