This might make me an incredible nerd, and perhaps even a bit of a narcissist, but I just created a blog devoted to Volvo 140s. I just have this unreasonable love for our car (the wagon), and will most likely be the owner of yet another one shortly. Hopefully I can post not only good stories and misadventures, but also some useful repair and technical information for those of us out there who own and/or love these cars; it can be pretty difficult to find much information at all about the 140, online or otherwise, so please comment and ask questions if you have any, I would like to turn the blog into an extensive resource. It should be fun, so check out the '140 bricks' link under 'glovebox' on this page. Oh, and if it works out and I get the '68 142 this weekend, you can count on an account of the build-up, from it's current $300 state to *daydream warning* a lightened, beautified, super-charged Euro-style race machine. Stay tuned...

Back to San Francisco this weekend. Too much driving, too much gas, too expensive. However, it means my brother Daniel and Anna's brother Joe get to each head for home and I get another Volvo 140. Bad timing for good things...

26 hours straight behind the wheel does a number to a body. I did actually sleep for about 30 minutes when our brakes overheated coming down out of the mountains that border Death Valley, but that was it. It is the first time I have made it that long without a total meltdown, and it makes me proud---but I can certainly say I don't want to do it again for a very long time---which will be easy, because gas prices completely broke us. Oh well. Roughly 3500 miles, two families and piles of close friends later, we are home, pooped, and looking forward to lying low. Goodnight all.

European cars from the '70s with fake wood grain dashes are simply awesome. My '77 Rabbit and now our beloved '72 Volvo are fine examples of a unique kind of motoring. A small racing steering wheel, a tach and cool vintage wheels on a car that really doesn't go that fast...brilliant! Anyway, I believe I will soon be adding this '68 to my collection. I can't help it, God made me this way.

Gearing up for another epic road trip. Ojai-to-Portland-to-Spokane-to-Butte, and back to Ojai, via the 15 and Vegas. Nine days and 3000 miles of friends and family from far away, all in the the trusty Volvo 145. We are not leaving for another week, but I am already thinking about it with rising excitement. I love traveling by car. My brother Daniel is coming back with us and staying for week with the hopes of some creative brain-storming and story-writing time. We may end up with some cool new art to post...and he will be playing the guitar non-stop!

Cold coffee is gross. Still, when you drink it at the rate I do in the morning, that sharp cold bitter shock to the mouth has a sense almost of comfort and nostalgia. It reminds you of other cold tired mornings; good ones, and really bad ones. Of course I prefer it warm, but it is undeniable that with a lovely cigarette in the morning, cold coffee, though not as pleasant as hot, is never unwelcome.

Well, I'm back from Austin. Steve is leaving tomorrow, for fifteen months...

And here in California it is sunny and warm, not too much to do, and quite beautiful. We are very lucky.

I've wasted enough of this morning.

Time for work.

Fact: the Office is perhaps the most hilarious and brilliant TV shows to EVER have come out.

Fact: Obviously I have been watching it way too much.

Wrong: When something is deemed good, there is no such thing as excess.

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More Photoshop color experiments. This girl looks like the oldest teenage daughter of a large family who is daydreaming and very bored on some vacation...

Here's a goofy kid's illustration. Still exploring photoshop coloration...

Memory is an interesting thing. It can be wonderful, idyllic, golden; or it can be cold, sad and isolating. To lose or deny it would be a tragic thing, but to become obsessed is equally terrible. I have noticed that it [memory] plays an integral role in most Anime series' I have seen, and there seems to always be a juxtaposition between the unbearable ones and the ones that keep the characters happy and hopeful. Though I am talking about cartoons, there is a truth here I think, though more often than not the purpose of it in these stories seems confused; sometimes nothing more than an excuse for a pretty scene. Without memory however, we could not learn and grow or properly come to understand anything that happens to us in life. I am going to embarrass myself in my musings by showing that I don't really remember Augustine's chapters on memory from the Confessions, but I plan to reread them sometime and relearn some his wisdom; the concepts of time and memory are entwined so deeply into our lives and consciousness. Well, an Anime series started all this thoughtfulness, and I must be open and say that I like Anime a lot, but despite this I am very aware that it is usually philosophically, theologically and even experientially fatally flawed. It is as if there is an unlimited well of creativeness and perception in the mind of the animators, but somehow they miss the real point and get hung up on immature reactions and childish emotions, like obsessive attachment to certain memories. The lives of so many of the characters in these different shows revolve around a single occurrence, and they either eternally live in the past or can only bear to live in the present. Even worse, they often have a huge identity crisis as well. It makes me wonder: I feel like Japan itself has an identity crisis, as a whole people. That, coupled with a national lack of Christianity, odd customs, and a dark past that was confused and all but stricken from the minds of the Japanese citizens by the American occupation after WWII has left..what? Perhaps there is some account for the role of memory in their stories characters right there; a struggle to understand who they are and what has become of their heritage. This is all simply a speculation of course, but there is some real power here: Japanese culture (do they have one?) has more or less swept the world and captivated more of it than one might think with its sadness, sexiness, its depth and madness. However all that may be, I have recently been thoughtful about my own past. Some things I swore as a child or young adult I would never forget, have over the years become more distant or even unimportant. Maybe I just lost track of them, and at some moment or other in the future they will jump out, one by one and beg to be meaningful once again---or maybe I have just matured and grown up and have a better understanding now of how and why I was moved and affected. Obviously some lessons are learned or actions are understood years later...and, I suppose in the end if they really are important they are never truly forgotten.

I have been trying to get a handle on coloring in Photoshop for a long time now, and with the advice of some friends and many attempts and experiments I think it is finally beginning to work out. Well, you can decide for yourselves, but here is the first piece I am actually somewhat satisfied with.

We have watched a couple of foreign films lately, the Lives of Others and part of the Decalogue. Pretty amazing stuff; the former was a sad but incredible film. Other than that, nothing too exciting is going on...but that's okay. Really.