Yay! This Friday marks the date of my housemate’s first solo/one-man show @ the Launchpad gallery. For those of you in Portland, go check it out. If you haven’t seen his band play, then show up at 6pm. In addition to Jaik’s good looks and good licks on the guitar, Michelle brings a woman’s touch and white girl rhythm to the drums and Joel’s moves and bass lines lead this trio to triumphant sound.

Just a quick update that I’m alive and very well in southern California.

My best girl from Portland, Elisabeth, met me here on Tuesday and since then we’ve managed to hit a couple of beaches, tour Wildstorm comics, an offshoot of DC and kill karaoke not once, but twice. My new favorite karaoke bar is also a classy hotel bar, like Suki’s back at home and folks rock out to air guitar on a fabulously blue blow-up guitar.

My favorite part of San Diego, other than Elisabeth time? Learning a couple Jack Johnson songs on the guitar, thanks to Allen from the Hostel Cat, and adventuring onto the roof for sunrise. (Despite the hostel being in a shady part of downtown, the police station sat across the street and the gaslamp district was a mere 5 minute walk. If you’re born in the 80’s and like to party, then you’d likely enjoy this hostel.)

Today I’m looking forward to practicing the Jack Johnson, some romantic sight seeing starting with ocean views and seal pups, to Balboa park and then back to the beach for the sunset. Then it’s full speed ahead back to Portland for Jaik’s gallery show opening. It’s a 2 day drive if I skip the grand canyon, lake mead, death valley and yosemite …

From Kansas Joe, posted on Myspace. I couldn’t help it and just have to share. Enjoy!

Now that I’m down to my last roll of film, I finally have a preview of candidates for my final project. No, I don’t know what that will be, or what it will look like; it’s baking in the oven. The preview is from my first 15 rolls. The final 15 won’t likely be processed until I return.

Check them out and look for your own photo at my Flickr site. Any you like, love or hate? Let me know! You can add comments on any picture, or post your comments here. Thanks!

I hate to rant too much on how much I rock, but I can’t help it … and the Bloody Mary’s are kicking in. Check it out: Best Dressed, SXSW 2008.

It was funny being approached by someone with a camera, considering that’s what I’d been doing all trip. Now I definitely don’t mind complimenting people, as it feels soo good!

http://www.styledash.com/photos/south-by-best-dressed-tuesday/706353/

It’s true and I’m sad. After raving about the friendliness of Texan highways, I received my second speeding ticket this trip. And it gets worse considering I never received my renewed registration stickers and lost my ID in Austin. Oh, and the speed limit changed from 80 to 70 only 10 miles before. Warning all Texan drivers: truck speed limit is always 70, so when you see speed limit signs saying “70″ look hard - it may be for you, or it may not be.

Luckily, my mother didn’t let that ruin my day. I woke at Marfa’s Mystery Lights rest stop, to photograph a dying town, Valentine (not to be confused with Valentine, NE) and chase a UFO I now think may be a weather balloon. A few hours later, I stopped off in El Paso and learned some Spanish from some adorable parking lot attendants. “Quiero tomar una photo?” Along with “Como se llama?” I nabbed what I hope will be awesome photos and stories of locals. Bummed that I couldn’t go into Mexico, I left as soon as my 2 hr meter expired and made it to Tucson at dusk, rarely breaking the speed limit.

After a home cooked meal and 2 glasses of Texan wine, I crashed out early. I’m sooo glad to be out of Texas. Now I’m drinking the BEST bloody mary’s ever - compliments of the BEST bartender in Tucson, Hannah @ Hotel Congress. Thanks again Michelle & Joel - your friend rocks … maybe even a little more than I do.

No, it’s not as exciting as riding a cowboy, but helping people gives me a boost of energy even when I’m burning in the hot, desert, Texan sun. (And I like building up the Karma account when I can’t build up the bank account.)

As I leave Sanderson, TX all jazzed from my tuna snack and chat with an old Joe (literally) I spot a white car on the right shoulder. The lights are blinking and the trunk is open and I decide to slow down and ask if everything’s all right. I honestly don’t expect a “no” in this age of cell phones, so I’m surprised when the mother says “actually, we have a flat tire.”

It’s official, I’ve left Austin and as soon as I take a break in Tuscon, I’ll write up all the glorious braggings.

In my travels westward, I hadn’t planned on doing much in San Antonio apart from checking out the famous Alamo. When I got there, however, I fell in love with the River Walk and all the cafes serving drinks on the water. A friendly cashier informed me that this week is Holy Week, so the city gets a lot of visitors. And here I thought Texans borrowed siestas from the Spanish to match the architecture. If I worked here, I’d be sure to drink on lunch and nap in the sun.

So I spent a long afternoon meandering along the river and watching the ducks. Unfortunately, I forgot to plug the meter, so I came back to my 3rd ticket this trip. (2 parking, 1 speeding) So I chose to keep on moving forward in my western migration towards Del Rio.

The Texas welcome sign commands, “DRIVE FRIENDLY, it’s the TEXAN WAY!” To my delight, I received full hand waves over the midwestern 2-finger waves; cars hugged the right shoulder and slowed down for passing vehicles; and both trucks and cars flashed their lights to warn of speed traps ahead. For all the shit I gave Texas on its heaping portions of food (I only have 1 more week to lose the Austin fat!) I had to give Texas a heaping thanks for keeping the roads friendly. I don’t need any more tickets!

Simply put, it rocks - like the music at SXSW. Of the 15,000 folks at the festival, around 100 entered a softball tourney, the entertainment for the close out BBQ. Those braves played their hearts out on dusty fields after 4 days of continuous drinking, partying and little sleep. And some of us won.

I wrangled the Ausie’s into signing up for a team and w00t, can Cricket players hit a ball! We all caught on quickly to win 2 games and advance to the championship game. It was looking meek when we were down 0-9 at the bottom of the first inning, but in what was hailed as the comeback of the century, we rallied to win at the bottom of the 7th and final inning 17-16. Nothing bonds people like winning together.

At the start, I wasn’t sure we were going to figure out how to function as a team. We were disorganized and at a slight disadvantage with a quarter of us unfamiliar with technicalities, like rules. I’d like to think that my chatty instigations and cheer leading helped pull us together … at least everyone knew my name. And by the final game, even though I sat out after the first inning with a smashed toe, everyone knew everyone and cheered everyone on. (Note to self for future games: catch the ball first, then tag the runner to avoid a stomping at home plate.)

I could go on about how much it rocked to play, and especially to win, but I’ve got a championship dinner at the Salt Lick to attend. Larry the Lawyer says it’s the best Texan BBQ in town.

In what was *the* show at SXSW (pronounced “South By”), Tom Morello led a star studded symphony of musicians in support for a new documentary, out today in Austin, Body of War. Despite his work and dedication to the project, Eddie Vedder (the billed “special guest”) wasn’t able to make it out.

Personally, I’ve never been a big fan of Tom Morello, but he won me over last night with his charisma and fantastic arrangement of Woodie Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.” Aside from Ben Harper, who went missing for the grand finale, everyone who played earlier joined in, including Billy Bragg, Serj Tankian and Mason Jennings. Every fantastic show is not without it’s climax. And so this tribute concert ended with an entire see of people as waves of jumping bodies, all bellowing the final and potent refrain.

I didn’t think the day could get any better, until I decided to catch Billy Bragg’s solo show. Always a fan, but never a fanatic, I wasn’t sure what to expect. And I certainly didn’t expect to find a chatty and witty man looking much younger than his folk wisdom and baritone voice let on. With quips in between each song, my favorite segment started with a vote of which artist he would cover: Bob Dylan or the Carpenters. Ah, democracy.