2009-05-25
Swing sunday across the street at Swig, "lets have a swig," says my dad.
Inside at first sight the suited man (did he work today?) swiping a blonde number and stealing her kiss. On the dark leather couch a lady in faded jeans and vans, blues in the background with cats cutting it up keeping it real (atmosphere is important) on whiskey coloured wooden floors.
"Good night?"
It's always good, so says he.
2009-05-24
2009-05-21
im just goin to jump straight into this: i'm in wine country now, lovely, absolutely.
but leading up to this, (this is our third night, more on this later), the first night was an asphalt bender, doing a 5 hour marathon from los angeles to yosemite to make the sunrise across the ridge and over the cascading waterfalls by a hairs breadth, but a bender of a drive it was through the thick dark of the night.
yosemite is beautiful, with ridges weathered with the marks of their own history and age: the land before time before The Land Before Time, or so it goes.
in sonoma, the inn is "historical", with the owners referring to them as "innkeepers", but the irony is disarmed with the amazing authenticity of the restoration work: rooms, cellular in the classic enfilade arrangement. a new appreciation for the scripting of spaces via sliding doors etc. bathtubs, white as ivory standing on brass-clawed feet and the smell of mildew, not overpowering, just enough for atmosphere. bottled nostalgia for my grandmother's old house, so much so we had to extend an extra night, Just Because.
Dinner is a story in itself: lamb never tasted so good and service was never so impeccably gracious. beer at bear's run with mike, another another story. "haight ashbury ain't what is it" so he says and so i'll believe.
a fire in the background now, j.m. barrie in the background, i miss you (whoever you are). good night!
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