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chinatown
saturday, back in san francisco, we went on friday night to see sholi at bottom of the hill, and my wife and her nephew then wandered about chinatown while i sketched, and then we ate at the haight, and played some guitars, drew a picture, and left. another sunny day, the fog just creeping about on the pacific horizon.
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7.8.07 21:01 |
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i've hit more home runs than you've had hot dinners There's been a lot I want to blog about lately, but I've been a little preoccupied; the state of the healthcare system (and mr bush saying nobody wants a nationalized government-funded healthcare system, while his own operation was funded by, yup, the guvverm'nt); presidential hopeful barrack obama scaring his support away by saying he'd bomb pakistan without pakistan's support; or maybe the weather, which has been unseasonably cool for summer in Davis, to the point of being cold and in the 70s (compared to the 110 degrees this time last year). But I thought I'd wrench myself away from the sketchbook to mention a sporting occasion tonight (no, not the forthcoming football season this weekend): Barry Bonds has finally become baseball's all-time home-run king. Barry who? you may be saying back in England. (Didn't he used to manage west ham?) You probably aren't though; I remember hearing about some baseball hitters on the ITN news back home over the years. Well anyway, the San Francisco Giants veteran slugger, with the indifferent look on his face, hit homer number 756 tonight, and he did it at home, at the AT&T Park, in fromt of possibly the only people in the country who like him. You see, every time you read about him, every time he is talked about on the news, his name is prefaced by "love him or hate him". This is because of the allegations of (unproven) steroid use (or is it misuse? that makes it sound like he didn't use them properly). Well, we're Giants fans, so we are pleased about it. funny thing is, I used to know a guy in Belgium called Barry Bonds, though I think he was more cricket than baseball. anyway, well done Barry; and now we wait for the Premiership. |
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8.8.07 06:55 |
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mystic pete returns among us I received an urgent fax from the ether today...with only one day to go before the football season begins in England, Mystic Pete communicated with me, his vessel on the earthly plane, with this year's football predictions. Now I know Mystic Pete has had his moments in the past (four years in a row the teams he predicted for the champion's league all got knocked out in round 1, newcastle to win the league the season they ended up sacking bobby robson, etc etc), but there is no reason to doubt his prognostic prowess. "...another title for Man United..." he said not-so-cryptically, "...spurs coming fourth; arsenal fifth maybe, but only because everyone else are still too rubbish to get there..." He went on, "barcelona for the champion's league..." (thierry henry is quaking already) "...cardiff city to get promoted, but not as champions...derby, wigan and birmingham to go down...marseille to finally break lyon's deadlock in france...fernando torres to score loads of goals...gareth southgate will be first manager on the chopping block, and boro will stay up as a result..." Oh yes, and the obligatory "...spurs for the fa cup..." Yeah you say that every year mate, please give us a chance for once! He even had a few predictions for Euro 2008: "...don't worry england, you'll get there, and i'll hazard northern ireland and scotland will too...mystic pete used a calculator..." And the mists evaporated and Mystic Pete was gone, for another year, off to predict football scores in other alternate universes. You can see his full list if you follow the "Mystic Pete" link on the sidebar. I bear no responsibility. |
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11.8.07 08:30 |
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the corner of 5th and E
watercolour, copic multiliner, painted this afternoon, on the corner of E and 5th street (such imaginative street names they have here in america), davis, having just had a milkshake, having just seen a stupid last-minute sunderland goal. I sat beside the fire station. Three engines rolled out, sirens blaring, and then another one came from dixon, and in the distance - somewhere beyond those trees in the picture - I saw a great big plume of smoke suddenly rise up. I couldn't paint it, because I'd already done the blue sky. The engines came back, and the smoke soon vanished. I don't know what it was that burnt down, and I hope nobody was hurt, but all this happened while I sat and drew a house on a street corner in davis on a saturday afternoon. |
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12.8.07 04:59 |
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false prophets The fans were getting impatient. “Bench it Like Beckham,” read one sign, while others berated him for having the audacity to be injured. The American sportsfan attention span was quickly turning against him, but the other day Beckham finally started a game, as captain no less, and scored his first Galaxy goal, a copyrighted trademark textbook (and cliché-filled? ) free kick. It was in the Superliga, played between MLS and Mexican teams, kind of the North American equivalent to the Anglo-Italian Cup (but without the mighty Swindon).
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17.8.07 22:12 |
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cash cab My feelings about American telly are well-documented. Two many (loud) advert breaks, schedules being the same every single day, endless reality shows modeled on the worst of British (with cheesy soundtracks and editing) (most American shows these days are modeled on something British), crap asinine game shows requiring little or no knowledge of anything (Jeopardy being the huge exception), news shows fronted by giggling imbeciles with huge hair, faux concerned looks, enormous teeth and absolutely no sense of when to shut up and stop prattling pointless nonsense. Yes, I try not to watch much TV.
Well I looked it up, and yes it seems you do, and yes, like all shows these days, you actually had it there first, on ITV, since 2005 (the year I left). Jeez, it makes me feel like I’ve been away for ever. |
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17.8.07 22:49 |
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this week's sketching
Sketched every day this week, paintset out, lunchtimes or whenever i can, mostly of the uc davis arboretum, being the nearest spot 'of interest'. There is another sketchcrawl, the 15th International sketchcrawl no less, in just over a week, the 25th, taking place again in lots of cities worldwide. Including london. You should do it. Yes, you. I was thinking of doing the San Francisco one (the original and usually biggest), did Davis, Berkeley, and London, but I think I'd rather do Berkeley again, haven't sketched there in quite some time now, it's an interesting place. anyway, here is this week's set of Davis pics (they link to the flickr site) :
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18.8.07 04:54 |
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a pinch of salt I've been reading Mark Kurlansky's book "Salt". I'm about halfway through, so I don't know who the killer is yet; don't spoil it for me. It's basically a world history, through the medium of salt, or rather it's a salt-coated world history. Or rather, it's a history of the world, spattered with tenuous links to the importance of salt. It's interesting, sure, but it could do with some pepper. The rise of of the Celts? Salt. The cornerstone of Chinese civilization? Salt. Great Pyramids of Egypt? Salt. The paid armies of Imperial Rome? Salt. Etymology of half the words in English, and every other language for that matter? Salt. JFK? Salt. The Beatles? Salt. Bush's election victory in 2000? Salt. The dodgy penalty decision in the Liverpool-Chelsea match last week? Salt. It's incredible what you learn. When I was about seven I stayed with my aunt and cousins in Norwich for a few weeks. One morning, before breakfast, my cousin Daniel thought it would be hilarious if he poured a load of salt into my orange squash. It tasted funny, and even though he confessed I still drank it all up, not knowing the consequences. Within ten minutes I was throwing up all over the breakfast table (and all over my cousin Debbie's leather jacket), feeling rotten, and I learnt then and there that whatever else you may do with salt, you don't put it in your morning drink. To be fair to my cousin, it probably was hilarious to watch. Well at least I have an interesting story about salt. Perhaps Kurlansky can put it in the second edition.
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22.8.07 06:51 |
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garlic bread
please, no northern catchphrases. this was left over from yesetrday's lovely dinner, so i drew it in pencil and watercolour paint. I've been doing some different types of sketches this week, because all mine look the same after a while (trees, grass, buildings, maybe a bridge or a stream; i go through more green paint than grotbags getting ready for a date with emu); see them below (links to the flickr page). Yes, the blue face in the middle is magneto, the master of magnetism, though he looks a bit like tarkin, stinky governor of the death star. The long one at the top is of people eating their fast food lunches, smattered with headlines cut out of the californian aggie. such as the UC president resigning. And such as the police reports, such as 'dog not on lead; police say it's friendly though'. nice. 
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23.8.07 07:46 |
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hanging on the telephone I rejoined the communications age tonight. After living a Hereward-like existence for nearly two years, I finally got a mobile - oh, sorry, a 'cellphone'. It's not too dissimilar to the one I had in the UK (just, you know, not blue). I never really use the phone anyway, if I can avoid it. But here, unlike in the UK and Europe, you actually get charged for receiving calls, and for receiving texts. It's a disgrace I tell thee. So don't call me, I won't answer. I tell you what though, twice today - firstly calling Fed-Ex, secondly calling AT&T - I had to use those voice-activated phone systems. I hate using those. Especially in public. For one thing, the bloody things can't understand my accent. I say, clear as James Bond, "more options," and they reply, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, can you please repeat?" This went on. It's all very time-consuming, and brings me to mind that Kevin Bloody Wilson song, the one about the guy who gets so angry with the phone company he tells them to stick the phone up, well, their bum. I did mention the voice system to the lady when i finally got through, and she tried giving it the "well yes, the system does have problems when we come up against lovely accents such as your own," to which i replied, "ho ho ho, your mind tricks won't work on me!" (well i didn't, but i thought it, and i thought it in the jabba voice as well). Then later on, I call AT&T to top up my phone for the first time, not knowing it was another irritating voice-system. I muttered something to my wife about the message being in Spanish - and it recognised the word 'Spanish' and launched into the whole schpiel in espanol. I hate talking to robots. If I wanted to do that I'd pretend to have conversations with R2-D2. Well I do that anyway (he hates it when I call him Dusty Bin). Still, the phone was a bloody good deal - just twenty bucks, phone and sim card, and that includes ten dollars credit. Can't go wrong, guv. By the way, did I remember to use the 'hanging on the telephone' gag about Saddam being executed and those guys capturing it on their mobiles? If not, well, I'm using it now. |
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25.8.07 07:27 |
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