Spring 2000. Berkeley, CA

my parents were coming to visit, so isabelle went out on the porch to wait for them.
i explained that it would be a long time before they arrived. three hours.
isabelle insisted on waiting.
like most 4-year-olds she didn’t have a very good sense of time.

i would try to explain lengths of time to her by referencing things she was familiar with.
a few minutes was how long it takes to eat a popsicle.
twenty minutes was about the same as playing a game of candyland.

so i told isabelle that it would be as long as it takes to drive to the cabin before grandma and
grandpa got to our house. she knew it took a long time to drive to the cabin.
still she wanted to wait.

eventually she came in the house, but she wasn’t happy about it.

1990. 14th Street, NYC

one afternoon when no one was home i put on john coltrane’s “love supreme”. it was sitting
in front of the stack of records by the stereo. it belonged to my roommate. i’d heard that it
was an amazing album. it had a cool cover

i wasn’t into jazz at that point. i’d heard some things that i’d sort of liked, but i still didn’t quite
get it. hadn’t acquired a taste for it.

the windows to 14th street were open. the sound of new york filled the room; traffic, sirens,
voices. i turned the stereo up and sat on the ledge.

the music had a hypnotic quality. i felt like i was entering into it – or it was entering into me –
in a way i hadn’t experienced before.

when the album was over i sat there for a while, looking down at the street. still in a trance.
thinking: “so this is what great jazz is like”

Spring, 1985. Athens, GA

true west played a gig in athens and peter buck came to hear us. he introduced himself after
the show and invited us to a party at his house.
REM’s “fables of the reconstruction” wasn’t out yet, but he had a cassette copy of it.
i remember sitting on his porch with a walkman and headphones listening to it.

when we got home from that tour we only had a short break before leaving for a european
tour. by the time we got back from europe we were pretty wiped out. then we got a call from
REM’s management asking if we were available to open for them on the west coast leg of
their tour – 17 dates in the US and canada. we were surprised and excited – it felt like a big
break. we packed our bags and went back out on the road.

all the guys in REM were friendly. a couple times they invited us on stage for their encore.
one night i played bill berry’s drums on “wild thing” while he banged on the floor tom.

my favorite shows were at the greek theaters; one in los angeles and one in berkeley. they
had big dressing rooms, served great food, and even gave us each a gift. in LA it was a
travel alarm clock. i think berkeley was a jacket.

1973. Davis, CA

the only class i ever failed was junior high home economics.
the teacher was mrs. buchholtz. i don’t have any memories of her smiling. maybe she did,
just not at me. i certainly didn’t do anything in her class that would make her smile.

home economics was the one class that elicited a groan from every boy who had to take it.
even if you didn’t mind it, you had to act like you hated it.

nicky thompson was in the class – he was one of my best friends at the time. he had just as
bad an attitude as i did, until the last assignment, which was making decorative pillows.
for some reason he got into it. he had the idea to make a bunch of them to sell at the
whole earth festival. he never did make more than the one required pillow (which i didn’t
make) but mrs. buchholtz was very pleased with his enthusiasm.

when we got our report cards and i saw my F, then nicky told me he got a B, i couldn’t
believe it. i thought it was so unfair. three grades higher than me just for being excited
about pillows.
i went to talk to mrs. buchholtz about it but she wouldn’t have it. would not discuss it with me.

1960. Ontario, CA

on the back of this photo my mom wrote:
‘steven fell and hit his head at doug and della’s – 1960’
doug is my mom’s brother

seeing my mom and dad as young parents is endearing

it’s a familiar scene – handing the crying baby to the mom, the dad concerned but also a
little relieved – repeated often when raising kids

July 11, 1998. San Francisco, CA

joel and i were in north beach to meet a japanese band that we’d been hired to photograph.
it was their first time playing in the united states. the manager wanted some “rock and roll
lifestyle” shots, so we told them to meet us in front of the lusty lady.

the band was running late so we decided to go in and see the peep show.
it was my first time.

the booth was small and cramped. we had our camera bags, which made it worse. we put
some quarters in and a panel slid up revealing a window to a room where several women
in g-strings were dancing distractedly.

it was mid-afternoon, most of the booths were empty. if there was someone in a booth
across from you you could see into it, which was creepy.

one of the dancers started walking toward our booth. she had a very serious expression,
which i thought was odd. she got right up to our window, looked at joel, then at me,
and said sternly: “you can’t both be in there – you need to get your own booth”.

it was awkward being scolded by a strange, mostly-naked woman. some guys might be
into that sort of thing. not me.

we both left the booth and went outside to wait for the band.

December 11, 2002. San Francisco, CA

the first time i tried doing stand-up comedy was at the luggage store on market street in sf.
i did it on a dare. a dare i had with myself. i was in one of my “face your fears” phases. i
made a list of the scariest things i could imagine, and doing stand-up comedy was at the top.

my strategy was to not try to be funny. the “routine” i came up with was to say that a friend
had bet me a hundred bucks that i wouldn’t do it. so i told the audience i didn’t actually have
anything funny to say, i just needed the money. then i said “if you have to use the restroom,
or just feel like stretching your legs now would be a good time”

then i pretended to call my “friend” and tell him i was on stage and that he owed me a
hundred bucks

it didn’t go horribly – i got some laughs. it was very scary, so i decided to do it again.
i signed up for a class. did three or four more performances. i never let anyone who knew me
come see me perform.

it got slightly less scary. i never got to the point of being comfortable, or particularly funny,
but now it’s easier for me to talk in front of an audience.

June 18, 2006. Father’s Day card. Berkeley, CA

“today my heart is wide awake” – a line of lyrics i wrote years ago for a song i never finished.
that’s what i’m experiencing right now. everything slows down and the obstacles to feeling
things deeply fall away. it doesn’t happen often enough, but when it does it’s such a vivid
reminder of what’s possible. living with an open heart.

Winter, 1990. NYC

after playing gigs around new york for a year i still felt like an unknown. i needed to do
more to get my name out, so i decided to put up flyers for an upcoming show.

i knew you could make a paste for hanging flyers out of flour and water, so i bought some
flour, poured it in a bucket, and added water until it looked like a good consistency.

i felt very self-conscious about putting the flyers up, so i went out late at night.
it didn’t matter – the streets were crowded with people.

i found a lamppost, painted some paste on it, and pressed up a flyer.
it didn’t stick
i put more paste up and tried again. it stuck for a second, then started sliding down,
slowly folding over on itself and falling to the ground in a soggy lump.
i stood staring at it. i felt like that was me, laying there on the ground.

i tried a few other spots but had the same result. each time i watched the piece of paper with
my name and picture on it fall to the ground i felt more dejected.

it wasn’t just the flyers. it was all the things that new york and the music business
did to make you feel unwanted. insignificant.
it added up. it took its toll

October 17, 2011. Journal Excerpt. Berkeley, CA

been writing a lot more since the retreat in august. getting a little obsessed with it.
want to do some kind of project but not sure what

sitting at a cafe waiting for my sandwich. very hungry

returning from kaiser medical secretaries – had an appointment to review my chart.
it’s strange reading your own health history. i feel like i’m studying myself.
requested copies of a few things

engage all senses:
1. i smell syrup
2. i hear talking, water running, someone clearing their throat
3. i feel my back against the hard wooden bench. the sun on the left side of my face
4. i see my hand moving across the page. blue ink flowing
5. i taste the aftertaste of a sip of sparkling pomegranate juice

hugo wants to go as a goth kid for halloween. i told him i’d take him to telegraph to look for
costume items: wig, studded bracelet, fingerless gloves, leather vest