So I made it back to SF a couple of months back, and never got around to uploading any pictures. Finally did it, so here they are!

Yes, Fizzy's again. My favorite dive bar In SF. And my favorite place to meet the gang for some pre-outing drinks.




Oh gussie... I'm going to kill you!!!!


Of course I'll cut back on the drinking mom!


I made it to Japan Town Denny's before passing out! Jet lag!!! It's the jet lag!!!


Denny's....


Denny's!!!!


I love this town....


My mom looking at the church where she got married in North Beach.



Stay tuned.....

I started volunteering for a Greyhound Rescue and rehab group today. We had a meet and greet at a local Petco where we had a couple of pooches for people to meet. Harrison, and Chella. Greyhounds have to be one of the sweetest creatures on the planet, Just look at that face!



(thats a pic off the web because I forgot my camera, but look at that face!!!)

One thing I noticed was peoples reactions to the dogs. No matter who came through the door, despite age, gender, race, or social standing (and trust me, theres quite a variety at the Yonkers Petco) the reaction was the same. Theres a face people make when they see a greyhound. They know what it is, but at the same time they look confused, intrigued and surprised. They almost all stopped and stared, trying to make sense of the tall, muscular magnificent animal in front of them. And on top of it all, they smile. Every one of them. Maybe it's because greyhounds have been domesticated for over 4000 years. They are buried with the great Egyptian Pharaohs. They've been worshiped and treasured, and they've hunted along side us. Maybe somewhere in our genetic memory, we all have a connection with these beautiful animals.

Sadly, these wonderful animals are slaughtered by the thousands every year. Once they are too old to race (6years old), injured, or merely seconds too slow on the track, their lives are forfieit. If you'd like to help, or just would like more info, please visit the site below:

http://www.greyhoundrescuerehab.org/

READ IT. NOW.

So I promised y'all a squirrel battle!

I was asleep on my couch the other morning, when I was awakened suddenly to the most hideous sound you could imagine! I sat up in an instant. It sounded like a high pitched squeal, as if someone was running a kitten through a blender. I ran into the living room, where the sound was emanating from, and was confronted with a horrible sight! My window was wide open, and two squirrels were standing on the windowsill inside my apartment!! They were both on their hind legs facing each other in what appeared to be a battle stance! They were raking their little claws at each others cute little faces and their mouths were wide open, exposing razor sharp teeth and emitting the insane sound that woke me. I stood there in shock as this primal battle played out in front of me. When all of a sudden, they froze! Teeth barred, claws held in mid strike, eyes wide. And then they turned and looked right at me! I was frozen with fear. We faced off like a gunfight sequence in an old western. And just when I thought they were going to strike, they ran! Not out of the house, but further in! Trapping themselves between the fixed glass of the window and the wall. They tried to escape, clawing at the glass frantically!!! I slowly backed out of the room, and as soon as I was out, they ran through the open window into the garden outside. And this my friends, is where it gets really exciting! I ran over and closed the window, and there in the garden was the most amazing sight! Squirrels, squirrels, squirrels... I have never seen so many. At least fifty of them in the garden. And they were running! Running like maniacs! In pairs, and in groups... Chasing each other, up trees, up walls, through bushes. They were knocking peoples planters over and making an insane ruckus! There is a ledge that runs around the entire building right below my window, and some squirrels were using this like an indy 500 track! Here are some photos of the action:

There is finally a trailer online for Horton! Check it out if you get a chance! Or if your going to see the Simpson's movie, you'll see the trailer on the big screen...

http://video.aol.com/video/kol-horton-hears-a-who-trailer-no-1-hd/1947816

So I am walking to work this morning and I got to this one intersection that is particularly dangerous. Cars are coming around a bend through the crosswalk and the average speed that has got to be in the 40's. I often wait there, on the curb, and imagine what it would feel like if one of those metal beasts were to make contact with me. I won't go into details about the results of my overworked imagination, but it's pretty grim. Now when I walk to work, and I get to this intersection, I have to look behind me to see the cars barreling around the turn. Today, as I am looking back, one of the cars passing me hits the breaks and screeches to a halt. I look at the driver, a little asian woman. Then I look at the reason she stopped. A black man, about my age, is standing on the opposite side of the street waiting to cross. (don't ask me why I am giving you the ethnicity of the people in this story, it has absolutely nothing to do with it.) I can't really see why the woman stopped. The man is all the way on the sidewalk and they are just staring at each other. After a second he begins to wave the car on with big arcing hand motions. He starts yelling things like "It's okay! Go ahead! Go on!" The lady slowly resumes her course through the intersection. As soon as the man across from me spoke, I knew he was different. There was something wrong. I've been around enough people in my life who were autistic, developmentally delayed, or mentally retarded to be confident in my evaluation of this persons condition. And I felt more sure as he continued to yell at the next cars to blast through the intersection. Looking at each one, making his big arm gestures and encouragingly telling them it was fine to pass, and "move on". He did this for seven or eight cars before there was a break in the flow and I saw him step into the street and start to cross. I took my eyes from him, looking back to see if I had an opportunity to cross. I saw cars coming towards me fast enough and close enough that I strategically decided to maintain my safe position on the sidewalk. Then I heard that mans voice again.

"Good morning sir! Good morning!"

I turned to look at him. He stood there a couple of feet from me. Still in the street, but out of reach of the cars flying by behind him. He smiled, a big grin, and he had sharp twinkling eyes.

"good morning" I said. And then I stumbled on his next comment.

"You look like you draw. Draw on paper. You look like you draw all day."

I quickly checked myself. No, I looked completely normal. No Fooly Cooly t-shirt. No sketch book tucked under my arm. No pencil behind my ear. Just jeans, vans, and the leather man bag that Kim gave me for Christmas. I replied...

"Yes, I do draw... all day."

To which he said:

"You look like you draw. I draw too, but at night."

With that, he walked passed me and continued on down the street. The crosswalk signal chirped that it was safe for me to enter the intersection. I stepped off the curb and made my way across, looking back more than once at the man who had pegged me as someone who draws all day...



Stay tuned, my next post is going to have a squirrel battle in it.

Most of you who know me, know that I spent a lot of my childhood weekends and summers at my granparents property in Mendocino. 40 acres of secluded bliss that we called Camelot. My granfathers name was Arthur after all. A paradise for anyone, but especially a young boy with an active imagination. In writing this I realize I want to say a bit more about that magical place, but unfortunately thats not what this post is about. This post is about Boonville. The closest bit of civilization to Camelot. A small town of about 700 people that was a 15 minute drive down a windy, dusty road from our property. It has a grocery store, a school, a church and a video rental store. There are a couple of bars, and a hotel as well. And thats about it. I was in San Francisco last weekend and made a visit to Green Apple Books on clement street. It's right across the street from Jeff's kickboxing school, and is my favorite bookstore in the world. (eat your heart out Strand) Anyway, in the "Employee Suggestion" section I found a book called Boonville.



It was written by a guy who used to live there. And despite the fact that it is a fictitious novel, it seems frighteningly accurate. it definitely shows a dark side to the quaint, usually sleepy little town I'm so fond of. Not sure if I will ever look at it the same way. Also not sure if I'd recommend it, unless you really wanted something to read, or if you had an attachment to Boonville yourself. But there is a lot of charming insight into human nature buried in its pages. If anybody checks it out, let me know so we can discuss.

Stay tuned. (God that was a boring post. Sorry. Better next time. Promise)

My good friend and coleague Dave Chai is featuring me on his website this month! I'm super honored. Check it out here:

http://www.houseofchai.net/HTML%20Pages/featmain.htm

Yesterday was absolutely beautiful here in Westchester. So I grabbed a book and headed out to the park to nap under my favorite tree. Between reading and dozing I noticed two pigeons flying around above me. They were mostly white, but speckled with swatches of black and grey. Nothing special as far as birds go, but as hypnotizing as any creature who can soar above us with the greatest of ease. They would circle around above me in huge sweeping arcs never more than seven or eight inches from each other. I was amazed at how they maintained their proximity to one another. One always right above and a little behind the first. They even flapped their wings in unison. They would land for a minute in one of the towering maple trees behind my house, and then take off again, repeating the aerial dance.

After a while they landed in the grass beside me. They stood for a moment, their wide, round pinkish pigeon eyes staring at everything and nothing all at once. And then as if determining that the coast was clear, the female began to eat. Pecking at unseen morsels hidden beneath the canopy of grass. Her companion stood guard while she pecked away at her afternoon meal. Standing tall, eyes darting back and forth, his head tilting in response to any movement of other park patrons, squirrels, or the wind in the trees. He seemed proud to me, and would only let his partner get a couple of feet away from him before moving to catch up with her. She seemed completely unconcerned about the world around her. Oblivious to the movement of potential dangers, she was liberated by trust.

I sat and watched. And thought to myself, how lucky are they?

So I just finished a book called The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter. It is a wonderful story about a young boy who is adopted by his grandparents when his own parents pass away. It takes place during the depression, they are Cherokee, and they bring him into the mountains and raise him in the Cherokee way. The book is filled with interesting characters, and amazing insight to mans relationship with nature. It's a book written for young adults, but I think it would appeal to just about anyone. A very interesting thing about the book was that it was originally published as an autobiography. I did a little research online and found out that the author was in fact a white man, who was raised a farm with his family. He grew up to be a writer for a particularly racist politician. He also was apparently a member of the KKK, and quite racist himself. Heres an article for anybody interested:

http://www.nativeweb.org/pages/legal/carter.html

He apparently went to some effort to hide his past, including changing his name from Asa, to forrest. But what intrigues me the most is what the book means. Did he believe in the concepts he projects to the readers? Or is it truly a racist work in itself, preying on the american stereotype of the Native American Indian? And does an authors personal beliefs, or actions in life depreciate the value of his work?

I came to think of my Grandfather. He was a man who lived during the great depression. To me, he was always wise, compassionate, and tolerant. But I learned through conversation with my mother, aunts and uncles that he wasn't always so. A good person yes, but not always the open minded man who understandingly accepted the world around him that I knew in my 32 years with him. My grandfather grew, changed, and learned every day of his life. And so I found an unexpected secret in this book. Not anything that was written between the lines, or hidden in the subtext. I, like my grandfather, and perhaps like Asa Carter, can evolve. I cannot escape the mistakes of my past. Undo hurts I have caused. But I can learn. And there is still the potential in me to do good.


Stay tuned....