I just sent this out to my high school friends:

A couple of things:

1. A friend told me to check out the Camera Obscura at the Cliff House, which I’d never done. It’s a small building down below the restaurant, with a rotating lens that gives you a moving 360° panorama of the beach and Seal Rocks. Also, in the Cliff House, on the left side of the bar, there’s a large monitor with photos of early San Francisco, including Sutro Baths, the original (and spectacular) Cliff House circa 1900, and Playland at the Beach*. You can get a beer and watch the procession of old photos.

2. Last week I got a book titled The Barbary Coast: An Informal History of the San Francisco Underworld by Herbert Asbury. I didn’t realize how lawless and violent San Francisco was in its early days. It was like Deadwood, the TV series.

Here are a few other books (I know there are hundreds) on San Francisco:

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Thursday I hiked, hopped, jumped down a steep canyon… The entire west coast has rivers and creeks that run down to the ocean. Anywhere from Washington down to San Diego, it’s the same, clear water heading to sea, running perpendicular to the coast. In Baja, it’s arroyos…This canyon, with a good water source running even in this drought, isn’t much traveled; it’s makable, but not easy…so beautiful…at one point I slipped and fell down a slope; luckily hit no rocks…gotta be more careful.

These varieties of bromeliads grow without soil, getting their water from the air. Here they are happy growing in and around dry stalks of cholla plants I brought back from Baja California.

Jeez, has this been a shitty week. And jeez, am I a big baby. Yes. Any body part goes wrong and I’m devastated. I look at friends like Sherm in his wheelchair, can’t move a muscle or talk these days and he perseveres, and gets a twinkle in his eye when I give him shit. Or a bunch of my high school friends, who I saw recently at a 60th reunion. I should not complain.

  I had surgery to repair a rotator cuff repair a week ago,and it was only arthroscopic, for christsake, you know, “…minimally invasive.” Well I’ll tell you, my body does not like any kind of invasion. My arm’s been strapped to my side,with the bladder for an ice machine inside the bandage, all week. Can’t tie own shoes. Can barely sleep, have never slept on my back. After 3 days of the pain pills (oxy), I felt so groggy and shitty, I quit them. I don’t understand people taking oxy “recreationally”). Makes me feel like I’m in a hazy, fuzzy tunnel. I’ll deal with some pain in exchange for some mental clarity.

   Anyway, just started getting into gear last night. I had given Lucky Peach magazine several hundred of my photos to do a story in their next issue, which is on “the apocalypse.” The angle on me being homemade shelter, gardening, foraging, stuff you can do for yrslf in tough times. They let me comment on the 6-page layout (turned out great, they used about 50 of my photos), and I went through it with them yesterday (Sunday), and this got me back into the communication groove. Issue will be out mid-Feb.

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Rainy morning, from Cafe Roma, North Beach, latte, brioche, MacAir. I asked the barista for wi-fi password, she said “I don’t know.” Meaning password is “idontknow.” Like “Who’s on first?”

Turns out I need shoulder surgery. After all these years of intense usage, I finally tore the rotator cuff muscles in my right shoulder. Skateboard fall. (Yes, yes.)  I’ve put off this type operation (in both shoulders) for years, since there’s a long recovery period. But this time it’s beyond a shot of cortisone and rehab, so biting bullet. One step back, two steps-forward. I want upper body function over the next 20 years. “Fall seven times, get up eight.” – Japanese Proverb.

Scattershot of stuff going on around here:

Tiny Homes on the Move: Wheels & Water I’ve probably got 60 pages roughed out. A lot of homes on water. 72-year-old Swedish sailor who is building a 10-foot sailboat and plans to circumnavigate the globe. He’s already sailed around the world solo. Young woman living (and sailing) on own sailboat. Further adventures of Swedish welder Henrik Linstrom (in Tiny Homes), sailing with his girlfriend from Baja California to the South Seas and then (now) in New Zealand.

   On wheels: a family of four who sold their home (no more mortgage payments) and now live in a very spiffy self-remodelled school bus. A French circus wagon home on the road. Two ski bums (a couple) and their winter camper/home.A bunch of custom housetrucks. Surfer van/home. I’m getting a few pages done each day.

Travel I’m kind of travelled out for a while. Long periods of sitting in order to get somewhere great no longer seem as tolerable. More time at home means getting deeper into surrounding natural world. No longer having to train for running races leaves more time for pure exploration. What can I find out there, going on own power (no gasoline) from home?

Tiny Homes, the book Still selling well, people love it. Hopefully sales will keep us afloat while we craft the new book into existence.

Feedback From Our Building Books is phenomenal these days, seems to be increasing. I think it’s that we now have a suite, or critical mass, of building books, connected in a very real way. People were inspired to build by Shelter, and their work appears in Home Work. Inspired by Home Work, appears in Builders of the Pacific Coast or Tiny Homes, and so on. Especially great are the 20-30-year-olds discovering Shelter (40 years after its publication).

Gun Control. Jesus, Mr. Pres, will you please kick some ass? Come out in warrior mode about controlling assault weapons and hand guns. Jesus!

Rolling Stones in NYC. They sound and look amazingly good. How about this duet Mick does with Mary J. on one of my favorite (for more reasons than one) songs?: