Tag Archives: Bob Marley


~ 0 ~
SFO in the early morning
triple couple brunch date
SFO in the afternoon
yellow fever film
SFO late at night
Japanese, Mexican, American, or Chinese?

~ 1 ~
Hank Williams on the
turbulent red-eye
flashlights in the early morning
United Club at IAD
hella babies on the
flight to Jamaica
the first Jamaican woman to speak to/about me:
“it’s not fair. he’s not even using it,”
referencing my hair
all customs agents are the same stern
accosted by taxi drivers
one is hella chill so we go w him ($15)
he walks slow as hell
“we grow up w weed”
tried to sell me some but his guy is out
Caribic House
gentleman clerk
third floor balcony view of the sea
buy weed from souvenir shop ($20 for crap)
Pork Pit
buy weed from random vagrant (J$200 for crap)

~ 2 ~
breakfast at the Mocha Cafe
Knutsford Express to Negril
buy Blue Cheese from taxi driver ($5 for quality)
Yoga Centre
stroll and smoke along the beach
the German dude
yoga in the evening
shower and drinks
Alfred’s Ocean Palace
couple drinks and cricket at the Sunrise

~ 3 ~
smoothies and breakfast at the YC
chillin on the beach
spring rolls and papaya salad
Natalie naps / Americanah
drinks at One Love bar
curried conch w rice & peas at sweet spot

~ 4 ~
goodbye YC & Negril
KE to Kingston
wild winding ride east
the big city
the Spanish Court,
free rum punch on arrival
walking in the rain to
Devon House
coffee for her, coffee i-scream for me
walking in the lightening rain
Natalie goes chic in the city
divine Indian at Nirvanna

~ 5 ~
free breakfast: eggs, platanos, festival, bacon, fruit, coffee, water
taxi drive with a former yam farmer to
the National Gallery of Jamaica
walk through saturday downtown market
taxi to the grocery
Tashanna the angel
Natalie runs on the treadmill, i walk to KE
sunset swimming in the freezing infinity pool
hot bath w love
shower the hair
dress and small dinner
last home drink
up up up the hill to
dub club
smoky dub music in the clouds
saw fireworks
and popcorn
and dancing
circles, circling back to a
champagne glass next to the drivers seat
flask of herb wine next to mine
slowly, slithering back to New Kingston
in the nighttime of a new day

~ 6 ~
free breakfast: kitchen sink omelet, fruit, coffee, water, festival, platanos, and a complimentary mimosa
walking to the banks, several failed withdrawals
packing up
waiting for Robert
red shirt, tan truck, big smile
cash out
ride up
the treehouse
the tour
the pool and trail
dinner at 6?
acki and shellfish, peas and rice, greens not calaloo
reading and drinking
scrabble in bed under the net
never ending music for a wake, then an end

~ 7 ~
wake up puffy eyed a little before 9
shirtless on the balcony
big rainbow across the sky
Chef says breakfast is on the way
coffee, scrambled eggs w veggies, fried plantains, breadfruit (looked like dry pineapple slices), slices of mango, a peeled orange, everything fresh, juicy, lovely
more coffee, Bobby and Chef smoking
driving to Holywell
the waterfall hike
smoke at the falls
kiss on the hills
walk to David’s coffee plantation
the Chinese crew, little kids giggling and playing games, the two big dogs loafing and eyeing everyone, the coffee man deeply darkened by the sun yet profoundly lightened by endless cups of coffee
walking back home
Natalie’s forgotten R1: the run
gap cafe too fancy
walk thru the military yard
flask of clear rum, water, cheese puffs, and chocolates at the bubbles stop
walk home
cold shower (Ginger on drums)
wifi, soup, and dinner (more Fela)
seafish, fried carrots and greens, potato, yams, plantains
greasy spliff
drinks and reading

~ 8 ~
up a little earlier, round 830
coffee and breakfast on the taller balcony
acki and fish, breadfruit, fried plantains, papaya, orange
reading reading reading
the ride to Craighton
the $25 tour w Jerome
280,000 coffee plants—arabica not robusta—the latter 52% of the world coffee, the former 48%—though like the #1 most traded good (oil), the #2 (coffee) is often adulterated as there’s no standard nor authority—and Blue Mountain arabica is something special, with 70% of its sales going to wealthy Japanese—Jamaicans themselves drink instant coffee—unless they’re like Robert—usually Arabica ripens in 5-7 months, in Blue Mountains it takes 9-11—juicier, sweeter—Twyman and other north side farmers get less sun so their harvest is shorter
three cups of coffee after the lesson
walk to red light
bananas and coconut snack from the roadside rasta
walk from red light
Natalie loses her shades
hitching a ride w the 33 year old who spent 20 years living in Kingston before moving to London, comes back to visit family every xmas, warned us of the dangers of hitch hiking
eits cafe
walking up and a ride w David, bobby’s coz
walking to prince valley
glasses for a drink and phone
meeting, laughing, smoking w omero from Oakland and Tazia from near Kingston
drinks and dinner: beans, greens, and pumpkin rice, perfection
beer and adieu
reading, reading, hearts, reading

~ 9 ~
up a little earlier, around 815
Ovid on the balcony
coffee and breakfast in the usual spot
acki and fish, plantains, coco bread
packing up and paying
dj dale down the mountain
bob Marley museum
best dinner (fried chicken, beef stew, pork stew, or curried goat?) plus rum
two wedding episodes of friends

~ 10 ~
coffee, toast, and fruit on the balcony
Mahogany Beach
food and drink on James (same menu)
crazy dance boat party TV
Turtle Beach
souvenir shopping i
drinks on James
moms restaurant (fish stew)

~ 11 ~
coffee, toast, and fruit on the balcony
souvenir shopping ii
passage to passage to India (naan, South Indian chicken, chicken tikka masala)
chilling at KE
KE to Mo Bay
El Greco, cocktail on arrival
cocktails and joint on the balcony (Half Pint)
bellboy escort to room, J$400
atm, the old walk
1/2 lb ribs at pork pit
the walk back
another round

~ 12 ~
up around 8
finished Herzog
breakfast: one American, one Jamaican (mine is fried fish, greens, small banana, yucca, dumpling, and Nat’s French toast)
old white retired everywhere
blacks go J, whites go A
down to the street, rum up
packing, Brilliant Corners, checking out
smoke on the cliff side
delayed flight
walk down to the park shade
bk fries
taxi to airport
lines, lines, food court, hearts
exit row flight
chaos at CLT Continue reading

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in which the Tunnel decides to sell Dorothy. Continue reading

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she carries me through days of apathy; she watches over me. she saved my life, in a manner of speaking, when she gave me back The Power to Believe

i sit in my room, blasting King Crimson. the new stuff, not the old stuff. it’s good, i swear. but you’re right, not as good as the old stuff. i mean, you have to be happy with what you have … Continue reading

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Whole Lotta Love [archive]

yeah, it don’t stop, yeah it don’t quit…. peace happiness and love overflowing from a thirtieth-floor fountain.

Allison was a birthday present that came to me one day late, but i didn’t mind. within an hour or two of her arrival we went to Fort Funston; i think she really missed the hang gliders. too bad the wind wasn’t so good. the only things in the sky were epic motherfucking clouds, silly little metal planes, and birds of all shapes and sizes, but mostly crows. we also caught a little beetle crawling along. blazed some new trails. i’m always happier after going to that place. my favorite in the world for sure.

and then we got El Faro! fuck yeah burritos! alright! and then we watched Sin City, finally, after years of people telling me that it was right up my alley. and they weren’t wrong. who can complain about tits and guns? not me. but still, it was just ok. the best chapter was the one with that superhuman freak dude that just kicked everyone’s asses constantly. that was fun.

apparently Allison had been feeling nostalgic for more than just hang gliders, because the next day i found myself in san bruno hitting little white balls in the same direction for an hour with long metal sticks. no but really, it was fun… Danny came with us. driving range > golf.

for dinner, the girl and i drove down the Embarcadero to the financial district, where we met up with the girl’s cousin and her fiance at their apartment. they are super sweet. we all had had dinner once a couple years ago around the same time of year at the Stinking Rose in North Beach. this time we hit up some scrumptious burger joint near where they lived. my burger had bacon and a fried egg on it. need i say more? with our stomachs beyond happy on beer and buns, the four of us walked to the water’s edge and gazed upon the glowing Bay Bridge. nothing like a sexy San Francisco sight after a delectable dinner.

Allison and i didn’t really know what to do next, so we decided to drive over to this old saloon in North Beach (supposedly the oldest in the whole city; that is, maybe 150 years old). we never made it there, though. first, we stopped at this fudge shop and picked up some delicious treats. then we kept on walking to City Lights Bookstore, this independent bookstore-publisher combination founded in 1953 by Beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. they’re famous for facing an obscenity trial after publishing Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Other Poems in 1956. i was going crazy, so many great books, i want the whole goddamn Pocket Poets Series. i picked up NUMBER ONE, Ferlinghetti’s Pictures of the Gone World. two books i’m currently reading:

my parents + my Uncle Ron + my Aunt Janice met up with us at the bookstore, and brought us over to Caffe Trieste for rightly bitter cappuccinos and rightly sweet family stories. Allison loved my Uncle Ron and definitely got some insight into where ronny ii came from. (side story: according to Behind the Name, Ronny is the diminutive form of Ronald, which itself is the Scottish form of Ragnvaldr, an Old Norse name composed of the elements regin “advice, counsel” and valdr “ruler.” moral: you can call me Ragnvaldr.)

caffeinated and loved, we took a little midnight drive to Ocean Beach to see if we could crash any cool bonfire party. i ended up mostly being paranoid about my car getting CITED or TOWED in the beach parking lot and holy shit i just realized that if you take the ‘e’ out of ‘beach’ you have ‘bach.’ that’s cool. but yeah, i had to wake up early the next morning, so we didn’t linger long. (no matter, insomnia [among other things] struck like a mother that night. no matter, the night ended well, though late.)

Danny graduated on Saturday. congratulations boy! sorry about the location…

church is so awful. i really can’t stand it at all. people reciting shit they don’t even understand or care to think about, a motherfucking richly garbed asshole in the front preaching (literally, preaching) to us what we need to do to “get to heaven” or something, a motherfucking richly garbed building encircling us, protecting us from the disgusting sin of the outside world. churches should let anyone enter. churches should be sanctuaries for the poor and dying and homeless and hungry, but instead they are king-fucking-sized beds for the rich and content to make themselves richer and more content. google “puke.”

anyway, i enjoyed the part where some Junipero Serra High School authority read the words “Danny ****,” whereupon my dad, older brother, and couple friends screamed and howled out in defiance of the explicit instructions to not cheer for particular individuals. i was trying to get escorted out by cathedral security, but it didn’t work, unfortunately.

in between graduation and graduation party, Adam made it to my house from Santa Cruz. while i was getting dressed, while my mix cd was burning, while Christian was driving over, Allison, Adam, and i lollygagged hardcore. we drummed, we spun the disco ball in the sun, we danced. it was beautiful. Cut Copy is actually kinda good.

so what do you get when you combine brothers, mothers, fathers, uncles and aunts from Arizona, cousins from southern California, cousins from northern California, parents’ co-workers, friends from elementary school, friends from middle school, friends from high school, friends from college, and whiskey, wine, and disco? a really fucking awesome graduation party. thanks, mama and papa! thanks Quicksilver Messenger Service! thanks Broken Social Scene! thanks Bob Marley! thanks Jose! thanks everybody! as for Tori: let’s just say you better have made it to Sasquatch!

naturally, i didn’t wake up feeling like the million bucks i probably raked in from presents. still, with the help of certain accoutrements and various ambiguous activities, i was restored to something resembling happiness. but my legs were still shaky. oh but then Allison and i cooked delicious beggel sandwiches with melted jack cheese and oranjuice.

merry, weathered, post-egg ion, we flew over to SFMOMA to stare at modern art for a few hours with Mark, Erin, Christian, Adam, and his parents. here are a few of my favorites from the exhibitions:

Rene Magritte, Personal Values (1952)

can you believe how hard it is to find a good quality version of a goddamn Magritte painting on the Internet? what is this? anyway, that’s the best i could do, but it doesn’t even approach the greatness of the real thing. the detail is astonishing. he’s classic for a reason.

Jackson Pollock, Guardians of the Secret (1943)

James Rosenquist, Leaky Ride for Dr. Leakey (1983)

Jeff Koons, Michael Jackson and Bubbles (1988)

Larry Sultan, My Mother Posing for Me (1984)

Henry Wessel, Southern California (1985)

well then. apparently good art came out of the 80s after all. another amazing piece: some artist harvested Flickr for millions of pictures of sunsets, cropped the sun out in its own little rectangle, and pasted them all together in an epic collage. the wall at the museum only fit a thousand suns or so, but i would love to see the entire work all together.

immediately following modern art, the fantastic five meandered across a crosswalk, past a wedding, up some stairs, and through a mini-garden to drink some modern tea. it was all terribly good, but anytime i drink tea, i really just find myself fantasizing of Turkey.

tea was followed by a brief jaunt to Market in search of a bakery, in search of cheesecake, after which we drove up to the Hydeout to make Alicia make us drinks. nothing like sitting on the second-floor of a bar on Nob Hill, drinking mojitos, and beating my friends’ asses at Sorry! oh, and Thai food got involved somehow too. life: so so good.

the night was spent in expectation of seeing Young Prisms play at the hemlock tavern. the two bands that i saw open for them, Weekend and Grave Babies, were interesting. i kept hearing them as Joy Division + Spacemen 3 (GB was more on the S3 side and W was [sometimes] more on the JD side). i definitely enjoyed myself though. you can never go wrong with live music. Young Prisms seem a lot tighter than the last time i saw them and a lot more willing to sing audibly. interesting.

i’ve been listening to a shitload of Led Zeppelin lately. i think this tends to happen whenever i spend massive amounts of time with either Allison or Shannon. it’s never a mistake. Jimmy’s sideways wanking, Bonham’s epic whale stomping, Plant’s divine moans, and Jones’ whatever, all amazing. How the West Was Won and Houses of the Holy have definitely been getting special treatment. LCD Soundsystem has been getting a lot of love too. they are playing live in SF and LA soon, but i never got tickets because i don’t know where i am, where i’m going to be. but now all the shows are sold out. oh well, there’s still a chance.

as i mentioned earlier, my mix cd is complete. it doesn’t have an official name, but the playlist from where i burned it was called ‘the imp bottle,’ named after this great Stevenson short story i read last week. there are 15 copies of the mix corresponding to its fifteen songs (electronic rock, blues rock, soul, latin, garage rock, r&b, reggae, concerto, classic rock, alternative rock, indie pop, psychedelic rock, folk rock, electronica, and pop) and it runs for 1:00:02.

  1. ???
  2. Tori
  3. ???
  4. Mark
  5. Burd
  6. Micah
  7. Adam
  8. ???
  9. Meryl
  10. Emma
  11. Rich
  12. Shannon
  13. Allison
  14. Rachel
  15. Chris

i can’t wait for you to hear it! Continue reading

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