The iPhone camera does not do it justice. Live and learn.

About three years ago while enjoying my favorite pasttime with my father, I got frustrated about not knowing exactly how to hang the lights as we did the year before. The year before, they were perfect, and now, I could barely tell my crystals from my icicles. So I came up with the idea of putting all the strands in separate bags, labeling the bags corresponding to where they belong on the house, and labeled where all the strands connected to eachother. It was a lot of work, but a labor of love, because christmas lights are like my thing.

So now when I hang the lights every year, it takes about an hour (as long as I have a strand feeder/detangler). One year, when I was about 15, my folks were out of town, and George was busy taking snaps in the backyard, so I had to hang them myself. It took a really long time, but luckily, I had no job or any responsibilities, so what was there to be trippin on?

I leave you with my legacy:

1. Put up the lights just the way you want them. Remember to test each strand before hanging it. There is nothing more frustrating than putting up a dead strand.
2. Take a picture. It will last longer. Seriously.
3. Draw in Sharpie, lines across all the connecting outlet plugs. Write letters next to the plugs so you know which lights belong to eachother once they are disconnected.
4. When taking them down, put them in a bag labeled with their placement on the house. For instance “Pole 1” (featured on the left in the photo).
5. Put everything you need (including spare bulbs/fuses) into the same bin for next year.

A few years ago, I saw Of Montreal with Matt, Amie, Dana, and I don’t know if Brad was there. Probably not. Anyfarts, it was a crazy show, and I think we were all under 21. So strange to think back to those days, since now it seems my  whole life revolves around buying myself alcohol. It was right after the realase of Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? and I was so excited. We drove down to LA (or maybe I drove up from San Diego with Amie?), went to my brother Cameron’s old apartment, and pre partied with some turtle beers. I remember having an increadible time. Oh I remember, Brad was supposed to go, but he bailed, so we scalpted his ticket while in line.

It was a really cool concert, lots of smoke machines, lasers, lights, costume changes, 15 foot dresses, that sort of thing. Quite a show. The singer had a pair of red shorts that he donned, and later on the same tour, he got completely naked.

I saw them again last friday, and it blew that show out of the water.

On top of the 5 band members (singer, drummer, drummer, bass, guitar, keyboard), there were 5 performance artists, dancing (I guess it was dancing), acting, and story telling during the entire performance. It was the most increadible thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Some of those performance artists were cute too. Really cute. There was one in this little bikini and I couldn’t help but think about pursuing a career in performance art.

It made for an awesome show. Another night where I was happy to be alive in SF. I wish I got a t shirt. Anytime you have the opportunity to see them live, do it. I’m always happier to see band a second time. Wilco, Islands, and Architecture in Helsinki were all better the second time. It’s just like making love really.

“Yesterday, I went with my friends Matt, Dana and Juan to the Treasure Island Music Festival. The three of them got into San Francisco at 3 am Saturday morning, due to the fact that Matt insisted on seeing Aesop Rock that night in San Luis Obispo. That makes sense I guess, but Aesop was also playing at the festival. And, Matt had already seen him three times. Whatever though. Matt never claimed to be a good decision maker.”

After a short night of rest on a newly purchased Aero bed, my friends awoke to me getting into bed with them. I learned this technique from my brother George, and have always thought it to be the nicest way of waking someone up. It says, “Hey, rise and shine. Don’t rush it though.” After George’s technique failed miserably, I resorted to something I learned from my niece Georgia– sticking feathers up their noses.

After a quick BART ride, followed by a long walk, followed by a charter bus, we made it to Treasure Island. The island is very strange. There are a lot of deserted buildings, things in disrepair, unkempt patches of grass, and no locals to be found. It’s basically like a Bakersfield suburb during an RC Cola sale at WalMart.

Right as we were walking into the festival, I noticed a tent with posters for sale. I immediately recognized the posters as those done by The Small Stakes, a one-man, Oakland based design firm that did the 2007 poster for the Treasure Island Music Festival. I’ve admired his work ever since I saw it in a book called Fingerprint, so it was especially cool meeting him and browsing through his stuff in real life. He was a really nice guy, and I bought a poster he did for Stars.

The concert was every thing I’d hoped for. Aesop Rock was the first one we saw, followed by Hot Chip, Foals, Goldfrapp, TV on the Radio, and finally Justice. I won’t go into details about how great the shows were, but suffice it to say that it was well worth the cost of admission. I just wish I’d remembered my pacifier. Seriously, last time I saw so many kids with pacifiers I was backstage at the Santa Maria Spearment Rhino. Heyo!

I liked a lot of things about the whole day– talking to 19-year-olds about how they smuggled in their ecstasy (in their boots), backing up a churro with an ice cream sandwich, hearing Juan complain about how sweaty he was after wearing a hood all through Justice– but my favorite part must have been when we were recounting all the great concerts we’d been to. I think we’re up to eight amazing shows/ festivals, and I can’t think of a group of friends I’d rather have fun with. Eh, I take it back, the churro/ ice cream sandwich combo was my favorite part.

The first day of classes at college has always been a long day. Sometimes I’m a little nervous going to new classes, being around new people, and I always hate the silence before class starts. All you can really do in that silence is read the syllabus, and they’re usually pretty ugly.

Teachers don’t normally care about the design that goes into a syllabus. Some have tried to look like they’re fun and cute, and opt for Comic Sans (hold on while I throw up in my mouth. Ok I swallowed it). Others go for a photocopy of a photocopy of a photocopy, and think that they’re getting away with it. At any rate, I’m usually pretty turned off by these things, but today– my first day of classes at California College of the Arts– was different.

I recieved my first ever beautiful syllabus. Note the strict adherence to a two-column grid, the perfect line heights, and the simple choice of Helvetica. I also like the big page numbers. I did a very similar treatment on the page numbers for my portfolio. She probably stole it from me…

In private, I told my professor how much I liked the syllabus, and she sort of blew me off. It was like she was thinking, “What did you expect, an ugly syllabus? Who do you think I am?”

The syllabus was a great start to what I’m sure will be an amazing class. I can’t wait to get started on my first project, but that’s another post.