kevinsaintgrey http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey ]]> Virb 2.0 (@kevinsaintgrey) en the pj harvey shot http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/photos/1707174 ]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:55:32 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/photos/1707174 bottles of emotions... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/1007972
This has been playing in my mind for awhile, but it crept back into my conscious today.

Someone today decided to describe in detail the life of the ex to me because she saw her recently. She told me everything from the length of her hair to what was going on in her life. It bothered me more than I thought it would. It's not that I don't care about how my ex is doing, it's that I don't want to know. I think there's a huge distinction there.

Karma-wise, she probably has butchered hers the most of everyone I know. And I will be the first to admit that I'm no saint (just read my twitter). The thing that bothers me most is that she's happy knowing that I know she's happy while I'm just existing. Even miles away, she still finds a way to make pointed jabs into my life (not the first time... probably not the last). It's like this weirdly cosmic control she has and I'm on the receiving end of it. To be completely clich]]> Wed, 31 Dec 2008 15:04:30 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/1007972 through the looking glass... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/1003444 through the looking-glass

"through the looking glass"
12.27.08

I haven't been taking many pictures lately and when I do go out, it's with the film cameras and not the 40d... but I'm going to be making an effort to get out more.]]> Sun, 28 Dec 2008 09:00:08 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/1003444 eHarmony, speed-dating, & other miracle cures... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/1001874
The entire ordeal was ridiculous - forty million personality questions later and I got the screen saying I was part of the population of people that could not be sufficiently matched by their system of trained monkeys. At my friend's insistance and against eHarmony's recommendation, I retook it and got the same result (what a surprise). Again, my friend made me take it a third time. I realized I wouldn't be let off the hook on this until I stopped failing the eHarmony test - so I changed enough of my answers until I passed (I knew all that LSAT training would come in handy!). Three hours of my life wasted.

My friend hung over my shoulder until I filled out my profile, uploaded my picture, blah blah, and I let her proofread everything I wrote until she was satisfied. Then when she was out of sight, I changed everything. I went from Computer Programmer/Analyst to a pimp in the new and flourishing hamster market. I was no longer a college graduate. My favorite movie became Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle. On weekends, I held Star Trek marathons for my nearest and dearest friends. The original series only. Captain Kirk could kick the ass of that Quantum Leap captain guy in a cage match to the death. And my favorite color was #26466D, for those in the know.

After I saw the price of an annual subscription to eHarmony, I felt that sinking feeling in my stomach. Those things are expensive, even for a hamster pimp like me.

I didn't think much about it the past year. I got occasional emails from the website: "Connect with Jennifer!" or "Meet Satan and make 2008 and year to remember!" (even though I could have sworn I had already dated Satan). This Christmas, she renewed the subscription. She spent her hard-earned money in a futile attempt to get me dating again. It was simultenously ridiculous, hysterical, and a bit sad. I told her to get her refund but she was adamant. Sighing a deep sigh, I thanked her for it and went on with my day. Sometimes, you have to know which battles you can win and I wasn't going to win this one.

I'm not exactly sure what it is with people. These days, there seems to be such a stigma being placed on being single. So much, that I have one friend trying to get me to go speed-dating, two others that are trying to get me to date their cousins.

And let me tell you right now: eHarmony and speed-dating won't work. I don't think I can be encapsulated in a 500-word description or a five minute conversation. I'm about as photogenic as a huge pink one-legged spider hobbling around. I'm awkward when I meet people for the first time. When Mom, Siu and I went out to lunch right before Mom went to Hong Kong, Siu told the story of how Siu and I weren't even friends for about a year after we knew each other. Mom responded by telling her that it takes me a while to warm up to people, but once they get my trust, I'm intensely loyal. Every girl I've ever dated I was friends with prior. It's just the way I operate - I don't pick up girls at bars or clubs. I think that's a bit strange - anyone that I would even be remotely interested in wouldn't be in bars or clubs waiting for me.

I'm okay with letting things happen the way things are meant to happen. I don't believe in destiny, love at first sight, or any other clich]]> Fri, 26 Dec 2008 22:24:50 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/1001874 2009 resolutions... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/994084 Here are the resolutions.

1. Quit smoking crack cigarettes.
I made attempts this year, but it didn't happen. It's quite a difficult thing to do when you work 60+ hours a week with deadlines that hang like nooses around your neck. But it has to happen sometime.

2. Write more.
I've got all these stories shrink wrapped in my brain. I don't care how long my muse is on sabbatical. She needs to get her ass in gear.

Gasoline.

3. Read more.
My reading list is seriously ridiculous. Who else has Ulysses, Johnny The Homicidal Maniac, and Sex, Art, and American Culture on the same reading list? Probably just me. Sadly.

4. Learn to balance my chakra.
My center of gravity is all over the place. One day, I think my consciousness is just going to float away if I don't balance it.

5. Take more photos.

6. Commit to veganism. Finally.
Vegetarian for about 15 years... but it's pretty amazing how tired I got during my five month vegan diet. And I missed cheese. I can do without the eggs but why the hell does vegan cheese have the same texture as sand? Can someone work on that?]]> Sun, 21 Dec 2008 15:30:10 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/994084 Gasoline http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/994052 Jane Eyre. I couldn't concentrate after that - a dark shadow lined my eyes and all I could see were his eyes everywhere I went. The way the gasoline sloshed back and forth soaked into my dreams, the fire burning through my thoughts leaving ash and soot all over my skin. My eyes burned from the smoke everytime I saw him and those brown eyes. He sometimes caught me looking at him, a smile curling into his lips revealing a perfect set of white teeth. The classroom lights seemed to glint off them. It was like a polished sickle. Months of numbness passed. The quarter ended and people left campus for spring break. I knew that he would be on campus for the week. Just like me. Two college kids with nowhere to go just like during winter break when he stole all the feeling from my skin. When he answered my knocking on his dorm room door, he smiled that sickle smile. Coming back for more? he asked, his voice deep and penetrating the bones. I nodded silently as I walked past him and into his room stepping on piles of dirty laundry thrown in chaotic patterns all over the floor. I stopped next to his bed and threw my backpack onto it. He came from behind me and gave me a soft shove onto the bed. Then he was on top of me again and I could feel his weight on top of me. The back of my shirt was already soaked and I could smell the faint odor against my skin, even as his eyes looked into mine, burning gasoline and fire. He tried to kiss me but I moved my head violently away as my hands grasped the lighter in my pocket. Can you smell that? he asked, his eyes suddenly brown and clear. Yes I said quietly as I held him tightly with one hand and flicked the lighter on with the other. And suddenly, I could feel again.]]> Sun, 21 Dec 2008 14:01:08 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/994052 breathing... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/988024
One day I'll remember to breathe again.
Today is not it.

I'm not sure how everything got to this place, how much chaos needed to go uninterrupted, how many bad decisions... I keep trying to trace the exact moment when it started, but it's like trying to trace a moving shadow on the ground with a ballpoint pen.

At what point do you just concede to everything around you? What if this is as good as it gets? What happens if nothing is going to get better?

I have this story in my head and drafted out on Post-Its on the wall. The protagonist dies at the end (as my characters usually do for some reason) but it's about hope and change and all those other Obama-esque platform ideals. But I can't write it. The words don't want to come out. I look into the world and it seems hopeless. I don't know if I'm ready to stop the fight yet... but there has to be that breaking point where the stress is just too much to handle and the road ends, right?



I'm just so tired.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 20:47:16 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/988024 Becoming Uncle... again. http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986823 Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:24 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986823 Sexually transmitted skills... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986822 About 90% of the overheards in NY are ridiculous. Another 9% is hysterical... but that remaining 1% is simply genius. It just makes me awe in amazement at the incredible thought process of some people.


Case in point:

Dude #1: How come when you have sex bad things happen, like STDs? Why can't you get sexually transmitted skills, like creativity?
Dude #2: Or juggling.
--NYU Kimmel

If I could get sexually transmitted skills, I'd whore unlike any other -- have myself the brain of Camille Paglia, the imagination of Lynda Barry, the writing ability of Adrienne Rich, and I'd learn to ride a motorcycle. I'd even become a necrophiliac homosexual and have sex with the corpse of Jackson Pollock.

Tell me... if you could get sexually transmitted skills, who would you sleep with to gain their skill set?

]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:23 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986822 Orchids (v2) http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986821 and the orchids were dressed perfect for the winter.
I scratched an echo of a world into that stem
and she scratched the fabric into her mouth,
a dead flower on her tongue--

Seeds filled the air between us
by the time she crossed the street.
I could still taste the pollen, metallic on her teeth
inside those spaces
filled to overflowing, painted in a pale halogen hum.

A light rain crowded around her
in between the root and petal, petal and pistel,
and through the spaces,
I could still trace her outline-
a skeleton of a blue orchid hiding on the tip of her tongue.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:23 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986821 Becoming Uncle... again. http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986820 Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:22 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986820 Slow dancing during the commercial break. http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986819
I grew up thinking that these puzzle pieces must fit together into some logical shape or that this equation balances perfectly. But I've spent the last 29 years in shades of gray, where multiplying x on one side of the equation doesn't mean that you have to multiply x on the other side. Sometimes, life is just life and there isn't anything else to it. And that's a very discomforting thought.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:22 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986819 Sexually transmitted skills... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986818 About 90% of the overheards in NY are ridiculous. Another 9% is hysterical... but that remaining 1% is simply genius. It just makes me awe in amazement at the incredible thought process of some people.


Case in point:

Dude #1: How come when you have sex bad things happen, like STDs? Why can't you get sexually transmitted skills, like creativity?
Dude #2: Or juggling.
--NYU Kimmel

If I could get sexually transmitted skills, I'd whore unlike any other -- have myself the brain of Camille Paglia, the imagination of Lynda Barry, the writing ability of Adrienne Rich, and I'd learn to ride a motorcycle. I'd even become a necrophiliac homosexual and have sex with the corpse of Jackson Pollock.

Tell me... if you could get sexually transmitted skills, who would you sleep with to gain their skill set?

]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:22 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986818 Rook + orbital piercings and muse. http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986817

Got my rook and orbital piercing on Monday (8/27). Rather impulsive on my part... I wasn't even thinking about another piercing on Saturday.

And it brought back all types of memories of Abigail and I. I'm not exactly sure how the thought process happened... perhaps, since the last one I got was when Abi and I broke up, if you could even call what we had a relationship. Or maybe it's because I've been writing things in my head quite a bit lately. Bits and pieces of poems, stories, etc... The Time piece has a small tinge of Abi's writing in it... it reminds me of her pancake story. Ah...

Writing again, after all these years... it doesn't make me happy. It makes me quite sad with all these things in my brain. I can't love her anymore. I've made my peace with her, and her with me. But sometimes, when I'm lying in bed, trying to fall asleep and these stories keep popping in my brain, it makes me wish I had another writer/poet to share them with, to develop the stories and words. I think, I just need another muse.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:22 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986817 Orchids (v2) http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986816 and the orchids were dressed perfect for the winter.
I scratched an echo of a world into that stem
and she scratched the fabric into her mouth,
a dead flower on her tongue--

Seeds filled the air between us
by the time she crossed the street.
I could still taste the pollen, metallic on her teeth
inside those spaces
filled to overflowing, painted in a pale halogen hum.

A light rain crowded around her
in between the root and petal, petal and pistel,
and through the spaces,
I could still trace her outline-
a skeleton of a blue orchid hiding on the tip of her tongue.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:22 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986816 lost in San Francisco http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986815 -Walter Cronkite

(to just view the pictures, *click*. Pictures are slowly being added as they get edited...)


Friday, September 14th

Jen picked me up around 4ish and we headed west in the semi-heavy Los Angeles traffic to Burbank (Bob Hope Airport... yes, while other cities name their airports after mayors, governors, presidents and cities, us Los Angelians name our airports after Hollywood entertainers). She filled me in on all going-ons in the OC (blah!), her baby Maya, and mutual friends in Brea.

We get to Burbank and Jen being Jen, we drove around looking for the long-term parking lot for about 20 minutes meanwhile taking in the not-so-lovely scenery of Bob Hope Airport. We finally find our parking lot and spend another 15 minutes looking for a parking spot in the infinitely crowded lot. We find a spot, wait another 10 minutes for the shuttle to pick us up. When we actually get into the airport, we self check-in and when I try to check-in my bag, the terminal lets out a horrid shriek and a flashing sign pops up declaring that we are checking in late and that there is "no guarantee that my bag will make it onto the plane." I click okay, finish checking in my bag and we head off towards the gate. Over the intercom, we hear a female voice declaring final boarding for our flight and we run through the airport, my camera bag bouncing on my side the entire way and a tiny voice in my head screaming at me.

We shove our way through a small crowd at the check-in at the gate, enduring evil glares from people that were waiting standby, we get our tickets, and board the plane. The plane was incredibly crowded so we both have to squeeze into seats between strangers. The plane is down the runway and in the air less than 5 minutes later (apparently, we were really late).

We land in San Francisco/Oakland airport about 50 minutes later and Jen tells me that she left her cellphone in her car. She borrows my phone and pen, makes a few frantic calls to her sister and gets her brother's phone number (who's condo we'll be staying at for the next few days) and I get my luggage, which thankfully, was on my flight. We take AirBART to the train station (at McAfee Stadium, where the Los Angeles Oakland Raiders play) and take the train to Embarcadero Station, where Jen's brother picks us up.

We arrive at the condo, a lovely 3-story loft-style condo in South Market. I walked into the condo and was immediately in love with the industrial-style of it. It doesn't have much storage space, but with the open space, I immediately began to do some mental decorating (they just moved in and have yet to fill the space with anything). We sat around, had dinner (I had rice and steamed veggies) and a couple of glasses of wine. Afterwards, we head off to a local bar (by foot) where we had some more drinks and I immediately began feeling a bit queasy. We sit around the bar for an hour and the moment we leave, I completely lose it - right in front of the bar. Everything I ate that night came out painting the pavement with red and rice making the concrete look like bloody maggots. I feel okay afterwards, still a little woozy (though I seriously doubt that I'll be welcome at that bar ever again) and we walk back to the condo where I have some water and pass out.

sidenote: I have not been sick from alcohol since I was 15 (the very first time I drank). And I can handle and love my wine, which made me feel a bit disconcerted that I got sick from 2-3 glasses of wine. end sidenote

A few hours later, Jen gets sick and begins to throw up (Jen is sleeping in the loft area, I'm sleeping on the 2nd floor living room, Jen's brother is sleeping on the first floor) and I can hear her getting up and rushing to the bathroom.

We decide the next day that the wine must have been bad because we both got sick and we both love our wine. I would have been distraught if it was because I turned vegan (which would be the only other explanation... if I had to give up alcohol, life would be over).


Saturday, September 15th

Jen wakes up a bit ill but okay enough to head off to the Treasure Island Festival, so we head off to Starbucks for coffee (Jen's brother doesn't drink much coffee... I'm not at all sure he's human) and a little breakfast before we head off to AT&T Park (by foot... about 5 blocks from where we're staying), where the buses pick up the festival-goers and take them to Treasure Island. It was a very efficient system - we board our bus and our busdriver begins our trip. We cross the Bay Bridge, get onto the Island, and our busdriver gets lost (despite the huge signs and festival organizers directing traffic). We take a 20 minute tour of the island and see the decrepit and abandoned building and pass a huge demolished area with a huge sign for a Genetics Lab. I can almost imagine a Manticore-like building there with mazes below-ground with transgenic mutants running around. But, no. There were a couple of people playing Frisbee in the demolished field.

The busdriver finally gets back to the entrance of Treasure Island and we finally get off and enter the festival area (which is pretty tiny). We're a little early so we take a look at the shops - Jen gets a subscription to McSweeney's, and then we head off to the main stage to watch Dengue Fever perform (who were so fucking cute - the tiny lead singer sang and sashayed around the stage). We listen to a few more bands and M.I.A. takes the stage and I'm not sure the soundman had his/her ears checked in their lifetime, but the vocals were pretty damn horrid, but she played a nice mix of music from Arular and Kala. At one point, she tells the girls to come up on stage with her and I witnessed some of the most horrible dancing ever. It was painful to watch a bunch of rhythmless girls freaking each other and some guy in a glittering gold cap and pink striped overalls kept pushing the other girls out of the way so he could dance with M.I.A. It was a completely surreal scene.

Throughout the day, wind ripped throughout the Island and temperature went from 60 to 85 back to 60 in the span of 10 minutes so we were constantly shedding off our jackets to shivering. By the time the sun began to set, it must have been in the 50's, so we go to one of the shops and pick up long-sleeved gear (we don't deal with that in Los Angeles) and I was only comfortable after wearing four layers of clothing. Yes, I'm a wimp. Plus, a skinny ass wimp to boot.

We hang out throughout the rest of the day, watch Cut Chemist and DJ Shadow (no UNKLE songs performed, sadly), Ghostland Observatory (which is awesome), and Gotan Project with their 30-piece band/singers. They were amazing. Then Kinky hit the second stage and people went crazy - they were entirely impressive and had such a commanding stage presence. The final band was Thievery Corporation who were equally amazing.

altAt the end of the first night, we headed back out to the parking lot where the buses were going to transport us back to AT&T Park. The one security guard that was controlling the massive crowd had everyone neatly in line, then the hellhounds broke loose and people in the back of the line began to bumrush the line, causing all the people ahead of them to push forward ("hey, we were legitimately cutting the line!") and there was a massive struggle between those that were in line (Jen and I) and the people behind us. It took about an hour to get off the island. We got back to condo, chilled out for a few, then crashed.


Sunday, September 16th

Our day started out pretty much the same - Starbucks in the morning, a light breakfast, heading off to AT&T park. We get to Treasure Island (no tour of the Island, this time) and we recognized a ton of people from the previous day and we could tell they were a bit worn out from the previous day - tons of people were taking naps in the middle of the festival. Though, we noticed there were a lot of people that only bought tickets for the 2nd day (the "indie" day) as it was so much more crowded. By one o'clock, the place was packed while Saturday wasn't crowded until four.

We sit around, watch Au Revoir Simone (who looked like they were a bit awed at the whole thing), Two Gallants, and M. Ward (who was awesome enough that I'll even forgive him for not performing "Sad, Sad Song"). Then Clap Your Hands Say Yeah come on (who was the band I wanted to see more than anyone else) and I think the same soundman that did M.I.A. did CYHSY because the vocals were awful. But they were still rocked their hearts out. They played mostly songs from their first album with a few tracks from Some Loud Thuder sprinkled in there. Built to Spill came on a little later and were so great - the lead singer is so cute - he thanked everyone after each song (about 10 times total). Then we stuck around and watched Spoon who were also pretty decent. Then, not wanting to lose our spot in the crowd (we were stage right, about 5 people back, and in the same place throughout the day and the previous day - very nice place to be) and as soon as Spoon got off stage, throngs of people began pushing their way towards the front in anticipation of Modest Mouse, so we couldn't really move if we wanted to. Good thing I didn't need to use the bathroom because the people in front of me would have been covered in urine. I bet I could have jumped and gotten stuck because it was so crowded.

Modest Mouse comes out, Isaac declares that he's getting over the flu and so are five of six of the band members, then they rock out for the next 90 minutes, singing a collection mostly from Good News. They played a few songs from We Were Dead and two songs from Moon & Antarctica (no "3rd Planet" or "Polar Opposites" but they managed to squeeze in "Paper Thin Walls" and "Bukowski" so I was happy). When "Float On" came on, the crowd sang along so loudly, it drowned out the band which was a good indication that most of the fans were newer fans which was a bit disappointing. I would have liked to hear something from The Fruit that Ate Itself.

Getting off the Island was much more organized the second day.


Monday, September 17th

Our only day to really run around the city. Jen and I are sporting sunburns byalt now from two days in the sun. Jen's is a bit worse than mine since she was wearing sunglasses so she has a nasty sunglass outline on her face. We map out our day and begin with Starbucks, then head out to Haight & Ashbury where we go to Amoeba Records and I continue my long-standing tradition of buying local music with purchases of Black Fiction and The Dilettantes. We have lunch at Cha Cha Cha's where they have the most amazing potato tapias ever. The things were fried heaven.

Then we take an incredibly crowded tram where my crotch area was in the face of some poor baby. We get off at Fisherman's Wharf, where we walk around smelling the odd seafood smell of Maine Lobster (yeah... I don't get it either) and saltwater air mixture and drink Irish Coffees at Buena Vista Cafe. Then we take the tram back where we clung to the side of the tram, half-hanging off and head off to City Lights Bookstore by bus, where we got lost - first missing the stop to get onto the bus, then missing the stop we needed to get off. We finally find City Lights and I was sorely tempted to buy the Anarchists Cookbook. But I restrained myself since, how the hell was I going to explain that if I had to do a bag check at the aiport the following day? We had some drinks at Vesuvios next to the Bookstore, then Indian food at Naan N Curry before taking a cab back to the condo at hanging out, watching The Illusionist.


Tuesday, September 18th

We flew back. Very sadly.
I've decided to look for jobs in SF.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:21 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986815 Slow dancing during the commercial break. http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986814
I grew up thinking that these puzzle pieces must fit together into some logical shape or that this equation balances perfectly. But I've spent the last 29 years in shades of gray, where multiplying x on one side of the equation doesn't mean that you have to multiply x on the other side. Sometimes, life is just life and there isn't anything else to it. And that's a very discomforting thought.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:21 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986814 Rook + orbital piercings and muse. http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986813

Got my rook and orbital piercing on Monday (8/27). Rather impulsive on my part... I wasn't even thinking about another piercing on Saturday.

And it brought back all types of memories of Abigail and I. I'm not exactly sure how the thought process happened... perhaps, since the last one I got was when Abi and I broke up, if you could even call what we had a relationship. Or maybe it's because I've been writing things in my head quite a bit lately. Bits and pieces of poems, stories, etc... The Time piece has a small tinge of Abi's writing in it... it reminds me of her pancake story. Ah...

Writing again, after all these years... it doesn't make me happy. It makes me quite sad with all these things in my brain. I can't love her anymore. I've made my peace with her, and her with me. But sometimes, when I'm lying in bed, trying to fall asleep and these stories keep popping in my brain, it makes me wish I had another writer/poet to share them with, to develop the stories and words. I think, I just need another muse.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:21 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986813 on time & space... http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986812
Today, deep in my closet, I found all my college writings--the psychology essays, the poetry, the short stories, the memoir. I didn't force my eyes through every single line of drivel, depression, and self-loathing that saturated my writing from those days. I flipped through them and it was like looking through the eyes of some stranger caught in a sandstorm. In those words lay the world through someone I've forgotten ever existed, for better or for worse.

There's been a lot of transformation in the years since I've returned from college. There's been a lot of forgetting. Those past six years seem like a lifetime ago, and the times I remember are yellowed and frayed inside my memory. The sun damage has burned holes through those photographs, the corners are ripped and bent, those words I wrote years ago, seem bruised on those pages.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:21 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986812 lost in San Francisco http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986811 -Walter Cronkite

(to just view the pictures, *click*. Pictures are slowly being added as they get edited...)


Friday, September 14th

Jen picked me up around 4ish and we headed west in the semi-heavy Los Angeles traffic to Burbank (Bob Hope Airport... yes, while other cities name their airports after mayors, governors, presidents and cities, us Los Angelians name our airports after Hollywood entertainers). She filled me in on all going-ons in the OC (blah!), her baby Maya, and mutual friends in Brea.

We get to Burbank and Jen being Jen, we drove around looking for the long-term parking lot for about 20 minutes meanwhile taking in the not-so-lovely scenery of Bob Hope Airport. We finally find our parking lot and spend another 15 minutes looking for a parking spot in the infinitely crowded lot. We find a spot, wait another 10 minutes for the shuttle to pick us up. When we actually get into the airport, we self check-in and when I try to check-in my bag, the terminal lets out a horrid shriek and a flashing sign pops up declaring that we are checking in late and that there is "no guarantee that my bag will make it onto the plane." I click okay, finish checking in my bag and we head off towards the gate. Over the intercom, we hear a female voice declaring final boarding for our flight and we run through the airport, my camera bag bouncing on my side the entire way and a tiny voice in my head screaming at me.

We shove our way through a small crowd at the check-in at the gate, enduring evil glares from people that were waiting standby, we get our tickets, and board the plane. The plane was incredibly crowded so we both have to squeeze into seats between strangers. The plane is down the runway and in the air less than 5 minutes later (apparently, we were really late).

We land in San Francisco/Oakland airport about 50 minutes later and Jen tells me that she left her cellphone in her car. She borrows my phone and pen, makes a few frantic calls to her sister and gets her brother's phone number (who's condo we'll be staying at for the next few days) and I get my luggage, which thankfully, was on my flight. We take AirBART to the train station (at McAfee Stadium, where the Los Angeles Oakland Raiders play) and take the train to Embarcadero Station, where Jen's brother picks us up.

We arrive at the condo, a lovely 3-story loft-style condo in South Market. I walked into the condo and was immediately in love with the industrial-style of it. It doesn't have much storage space, but with the open space, I immediately began to do some mental decorating (they just moved in and have yet to fill the space with anything). We sat around, had dinner (I had rice and steamed veggies) and a couple of glasses of wine. Afterwards, we head off to a local bar (by foot) where we had some more drinks and I immediately began feeling a bit queasy. We sit around the bar for an hour and the moment we leave, I completely lose it - right in front of the bar. Everything I ate that night came out painting the pavement with red and rice making the concrete look like bloody maggots. I feel okay afterwards, still a little woozy (though I seriously doubt that I'll be welcome at that bar ever again) and we walk back to the condo where I have some water and pass out.

sidenote: I have not been sick from alcohol since I was 15 (the very first time I drank). And I can handle and love my wine, which made me feel a bit disconcerted that I got sick from 2-3 glasses of wine. end sidenote

A few hours later, Jen gets sick and begins to throw up (Jen is sleeping in the loft area, I'm sleeping on the 2nd floor living room, Jen's brother is sleeping on the first floor) and I can hear her getting up and rushing to the bathroom.

We decide the next day that the wine must have been bad because we both got sick and we both love our wine. I would have been distraught if it was because I turned vegan (which would be the only other explanation... if I had to give up alcohol, life would be over).


Saturday, September 15th

Jen wakes up a bit ill but okay enough to head off to the Treasure Island Festival, so we head off to Starbucks for coffee (Jen's brother doesn't drink much coffee... I'm not at all sure he's human) and a little breakfast before we head off to AT&T Park (by foot... about 5 blocks from where we're staying), where the buses pick up the festival-goers and take them to Treasure Island. It was a very efficient system - we board our bus and our busdriver begins our trip. We cross the Bay Bridge, get onto the Island, and our busdriver gets lost (despite the huge signs and festival organizers directing traffic). We take a 20 minute tour of the island and see the decrepit and abandoned building and pass a huge demolished area with a huge sign for a Genetics Lab. I can almost imagine a Manticore-like building there with mazes below-ground with transgenic mutants running around. But, no. There were a couple of people playing Frisbee in the demolished field.

The busdriver finally gets back to the entrance of Treasure Island and we finally get off and enter the festival area (which is pretty tiny). We're a little early so we take a look at the shops - Jen gets a subscription to McSweeney's, and then we head off to the main stage to watch Dengue Fever perform (who were so fucking cute - the tiny lead singer sang and sashayed around the stage). We listen to a few more bands and M.I.A. takes the stage and I'm not sure the soundman had his/her ears checked in their lifetime, but the vocals were pretty damn horrid, but she played a nice mix of music from Arular and Kala. At one point, she tells the girls to come up on stage with her and I witnessed some of the most horrible dancing ever. It was painful to watch a bunch of rhythmless girls freaking each other and some guy in a glittering gold cap and pink striped overalls kept pushing the other girls out of the way so he could dance with M.I.A. It was a completely surreal scene.

Throughout the day, wind ripped throughout the Island and temperature went from 60 to 85 back to 60 in the span of 10 minutes so we were constantly shedding off our jackets to shivering. By the time the sun began to set, it must have been in the 50's, so we go to one of the shops and pick up long-sleeved gear (we don't deal with that in Los Angeles) and I was only comfortable after wearing four layers of clothing. Yes, I'm a wimp. Plus, a skinny ass wimp to boot.

We hang out throughout the rest of the day, watch Cut Chemist and DJ Shadow (no UNKLE songs performed, sadly), Ghostland Observatory (which is awesome), and Gotan Project with their 30-piece band/singers. They were amazing. Then Kinky hit the second stage and people went crazy - they were entirely impressive and had such a commanding stage presence. The final band was Thievery Corporation who were equally amazing.

altAt the end of the first night, we headed back out to the parking lot where the buses were going to transport us back to AT&T Park. The one security guard that was controlling the massive crowd had everyone neatly in line, then the hellhounds broke loose and people in the back of the line began to bumrush the line, causing all the people ahead of them to push forward ("hey, we were legitimately cutting the line!") and there was a massive struggle between those that were in line (Jen and I) and the people behind us. It took about an hour to get off the island. We got back to condo, chilled out for a few, then crashed.


Sunday, September 16th

Our day started out pretty much the same - Starbucks in the morning, a light breakfast, heading off to AT&T park. We get to Treasure Island (no tour of the Island, this time) and we recognized a ton of people from the previous day and we could tell they were a bit worn out from the previous day - tons of people were taking naps in the middle of the festival. Though, we noticed there were a lot of people that only bought tickets for the 2nd day (the "indie" day) as it was so much more crowded. By one o'clock, the place was packed while Saturday wasn't crowded until four.

We sit around, watch Au Revoir Simone (who looked like they were a bit awed at the whole thing), Two Gallants, and M. Ward (who was awesome enough that I'll even forgive him for not performing "Sad, Sad Song"). Then Clap Your Hands Say Yeah come on (who was the band I wanted to see more than anyone else) and I think the same soundman that did M.I.A. did CYHSY because the vocals were awful. But they were still rocked their hearts out. They played mostly songs from their first album with a few tracks from Some Loud Thuder sprinkled in there. Built to Spill came on a little later and were so great - the lead singer is so cute - he thanked everyone after each song (about 10 times total). Then we stuck around and watched Spoon who were also pretty decent. Then, not wanting to lose our spot in the crowd (we were stage right, about 5 people back, and in the same place throughout the day and the previous day - very nice place to be) and as soon as Spoon got off stage, throngs of people began pushing their way towards the front in anticipation of Modest Mouse, so we couldn't really move if we wanted to. Good thing I didn't need to use the bathroom because the people in front of me would have been covered in urine. I bet I could have jumped and gotten stuck because it was so crowded.

Modest Mouse comes out, Isaac declares that he's getting over the flu and so are five of six of the band members, then they rock out for the next 90 minutes, singing a collection mostly from Good News. They played a few songs from We Were Dead and two songs from Moon & Antarctica (no "3rd Planet" or "Polar Opposites" but they managed to squeeze in "Paper Thin Walls" and "Bukowski" so I was happy). When "Float On" came on, the crowd sang along so loudly, it drowned out the band which was a good indication that most of the fans were newer fans which was a bit disappointing. I would have liked to hear something from The Fruit that Ate Itself.

Getting off the Island was much more organized the second day.


Monday, September 17th

Our only day to really run around the city. Jen and I are sporting sunburns byalt now from two days in the sun. Jen's is a bit worse than mine since she was wearing sunglasses so she has a nasty sunglass outline on her face. We map out our day and begin with Starbucks, then head out to Haight & Ashbury where we go to Amoeba Records and I continue my long-standing tradition of buying local music with purchases of Black Fiction and The Dilettantes. We have lunch at Cha Cha Cha's where they have the most amazing potato tapias ever. The things were fried heaven.

Then we take an incredibly crowded tram where my crotch area was in the face of some poor baby. We get off at Fisherman's Wharf, where we walk around smelling the odd seafood smell of Maine Lobster (yeah... I don't get it either) and saltwater air mixture and drink Irish Coffees at Buena Vista Cafe. Then we take the tram back where we clung to the side of the tram, half-hanging off and head off to City Lights Bookstore by bus, where we got lost - first missing the stop to get onto the bus, then missing the stop we needed to get off. We finally find City Lights and I was sorely tempted to buy the Anarchists Cookbook. But I restrained myself since, how the hell was I going to explain that if I had to do a bag check at the aiport the following day? We had some drinks at Vesuvios next to the Bookstore, then Indian food at Naan N Curry before taking a cab back to the condo at hanging out, watching The Illusionist.


Tuesday, September 18th

We flew back. Very sadly.
I've decided to look for jobs in SF.]]> Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:58:21 -0800 http://virb.com/kevinsaintgrey/posts/text/986811