Dune

I was quietly browsing craigslist for cars and jobs, when I heard the front door open and voices speaking in Spanish. I keep getting caught off guard by the fact that we have two cleaning ladies. They both listen to the name Maria and they come once a month on Thursdays. Having maids really weirds me out. It's understandable from my roommates point of view, she works all the time and she has the means to hire them. I on the other hand, am seemingly always at home in sweats when they come in. The last time they were here I was so intimidated that I didn't dare ask if I could use the bathroom (because they were cleaning in there) so I sat in bed 'till they were finished, by which time my teeth were floating.
This time I wisely decided to flee the house and bike over to the beach. Biking down there is easy. It's twenty blocks downhill and it was a beautiful day. The waves of the Pacific get pretty intense and I found my little spot on a dune where I can just sit and stare at the water for hours. I made a promise to myself to go down here more often while I still live in the Sunset. It's so close and so nice. If I had to live anywhere outside of the city I am positive it would be in the dunes. Proximity to water and forest (if you're lucky) makes it smell really good and the sunsets are truly marvelous. If you're on a west coast, anyway.
While I was sitting on my dune I read a little in the book my father gave me for Christmas, selected letters from Neal Cassady. A great book for anyone with a fascination for the Beat Generation, like me!
After a gruesome bike ride uphill back home, I find my room cleaned and the Maria's made my bed. I think they even sort of organized my bedside table. Wow.
I need a shower.

I wonder what happened to Nicole Wray

I have a professed love for R&B music. Not only the R&B that Ike Turner used to make, but also the later kind. I guess my little last.fm chart over here on the site makes it pretty clear.
I don't share this love with many of my friends. Most of them listen to cool obscure music and classic oldies or you know, anything not produced by Timbaland or Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis.. (That means you, Femke!)
With a lot of spare time, a new MacBook and finally figuring out how to use a torrent program, my love for this music is blowing up even more. People have ready made collections like '100 Best R&B and HipHop Songs of the 90's' and I spend my evenings like a teenager listening to Mary J Blige in my room on my headphones while dancing and singing along with no sound. At least I don't use my hairbrush as a microphone and having an airbed prevents me from jumping on the bed, so it's not thát bad.

Anyway. If any of you have a secret urge to listen to some classics, download this mix by Sotu the Traveller. It has Mark Morrisson, Ginuwine, Keath Sweat, and Jodeci among others. And if anyone gives you shit for it, remember he's a part of Appletree Records. That'll give you some credit.

I leave you with one of my favorites. Mazzel!

P.S. Don't download the new Beyonce album(s)! It SUCKS.

Banged up

First thing I did with three of my twenty combs: cut my bangs:

I get that mood every once in a while. Except, I keep forgetting how biking can fuck up this hairdo. And of course, today is the day I got a new bike. This time it's the perfect one.

But I sure look like a wreck.

Time to dress up and head back in to the city for new years eve. By tram.
Happy New Year people, Happy New Year.

But they sure are pretty.

Today I went to buy a comb. At the Walgreens, the cheapest comb was still two dollars more than this set of twenty. I was totally lured into consumer overkill.
What the hell am I going to do with twenty combs?

Marvelous List

Now I know everyone says: Oh forget it Cunningham, there's no gentlemen anymore. Take off the gloves and let's have a fight.

I like reading the NY Times, even though it has shown itself to be a pretty snobbish newspaper. Now I don't mean to get all Sarah Palin on you guys, but it is really elitist. In times of economic repression they report on how to have dinner for under a hundred dollars (oh no!), or how to have personal shoppers come to your mansion so people don't have to see you spend extravagant amounts of cash on clothing as the masses suffer and are reduced to window shopping.
But there is one feature in the Style section that I absolutely adore. It is photographer Bill Cunningham's street style report. Put together as a slide show, he narrates along with the pictures. He seems to be the originator of fashion street photography long before the blogs started popping up, having worked for the Times since 1966 and navigating himself through the city only on his bicycle.
I particularly love listening to that old crackling voice exclaim about small details he points out to us, and his overuse of the word 'marvelous'. I love that word. Marvelous. If I could I'd name my son Marvelous.



Here is an episode I loved, where he goes on the streets and finds what he calls the Mark of a Gentleman.
It's an older one from about a month ago, but please take the time to press on the link, it will only take two minutes out of your life and you can thank me later.

Geo Storm

I was in Florida hanging out with grandma and uncle John.
I will write again soon. For now, the proof that I am actually learning to drive.

Check out that 1990 Geo Storm!
Also, listen to my soundtrack. Yeah.

Only in America

Rich people get to be really eccentric and toy around like little kids, because their money can make all kinds of crazy shit happen for real. I got to see one of the funniest examples of this today with my own two eyes.
In the lovely Presidio Park, right next to the Golden Gate Bridge, lies Lucasfilm. Industrial Light and Magic, a company owned by George Lucas and part of Lucasfilm, apparently touches just about any film made in Hollywood before it makes its way into the universe with their visual and audio effects. Even though the Presidio is a public park, George Lucas spent over 300 million dollars to obtain an extensive residential lease from the government and built his company buildings right in the park a few years ago. I went to take a look today. Unfortunately, I was not allowed to take any pictures inside the office. They made me sign a release (digitally, they made me a part of the system, man) that I would not tell anything that happened inside or take any pictures.

Luckily, the sun was shining and I could take some pictures of the surroundings.


Behind the office buildings, there runs a creek. It's lovely, even though it looks a bit planted. I took a closer look and found this pole next to a little bridge crossing the water:

Can you believe that? Here's the story: the entire thing is a fake. Good ol' George decided that he didn't want artificial rocks by his creek because it would look like Disneyland and everything. So what did they do? They bought a creek from Marin County. They numbered every single fucking rock in the creek. They noted how it swirled. Then they moved the entire thing and planted it in the back yard.
That's right. This pole made me wonder, also, what the emergeny could be where a creek would need to be shut off?

There is also a Yoda fountain by the way. Very relaxing.

For more on me and my George Lucas adventures, keep an eye on Monobrow. Dutch readers only..