The Last Leg

Near the Continental Divide.

Outside El Paso.


There is dispute about how Marfa, Tx (pop. 2,121) got its name. Some say that the town is named for Marfa Strogoff, a character in Jules Verne's Michael Strogoff. Others claim that a railroad executive's wife was reading The Brothers Karamazov as her train rumbled through West Texas, and that she suggested naming the town after Marfa, the brothers' nanny/housekeeper.

I would bet on Dostoevsky.


Marfa got an artistic pedigree when the minimalist Donald Judd moved there in 1971. He bought up an abandoned army base just out of town and installed his and his friends' work in the converted hangars and officer's quarters. He also bought many buildings downtown for studio space and permanent displays of his work.


Two of these buildings.


The galleries were all closed, but here is one piece of a 1/2 mile-long series of Judd's untitled concrete work, on the old army site. You can see some of the barracks in the background.

A permanent art installation about 20 miles out of town, alone in the desert.


It's called "Prada Marfa." It's by Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset.

My hotel, El Paisano, housed an old buffalo.

In 1956, it also housed the cast and crew of Giant, which was filmed in Marfa. James Dean stayed down the hall from me.

For over 100 years, people have reported seeing strange colored spheres in the desert southeast of Marfa.
Theories abound: extraterrestrial spacecraft, experimental aircraft, ball lightning from expanding and contracting quartz crystals. Unsolved Mysteries had a field day; I didn't see anything.
I want to believe.

Huevos rancheros at Tacos Del Norte.

Train on US 90/67.

Surreally home, 5:30.

Welcoming Party.

We've Got the Hills of Beverly, Let's Burn the Hills of Beverly

I went to Los Angeles and didn't take any good pictures of Point DOOM, Malibu Canyon, Studio City, Pepperdine, Mulholland Drive, Hollywood Boulevard, or Amoeba Records. But here's a picture of Daniel in the shadow of his Christmas tree:

Highway 1 to Los Angeles

I have a habit of including fences.

Near Big Sur.

Also near Big Sur.

I was mad about not finding Tor House, the stone house and tower that Robinson Jeffers built in Big Sur, and then this happened.

Bay Area

The Golden Gate Bridge wasn't available for the iconic images contest, so this will have to do.

Berkeley.


Down the street.

I stayed on Max's couch in Oakland.

On Sunday morning, we were the worst-dressed people in Lois: the Pie Queen.

Kate matches the restaurant!

Joe.

Mike threatening Joe.
Mike is a fencer, and apparently, sometimes when you win tournaments they give you knives as prizes. Knives with brass knuckles and double serrated edges.

In City Lights.

The Castro.

The bed was full. Every once in a while, a sea lion who didn't have a place would ease out of the water, on to the left end, and then try to walk/flop over all the other sea lions to the end. The fights were marvelous.

I bought a gold eye-patch at 826 Valencia.

There were three of these heads, named for the moon in different months of the year, but I can't remember the artist's name.

Bay Bridge.

The Oregon Coast and Northern California Redwoods

Come on now, Oregon. You're better than this.

A view: how boring.

Trees.

Outside Lincoln City, home of the country's smallest river (500 feet!).

They call this "Big Tree." Before the national park, a local man wanted to cut it down and use the stump as a dance-floor.

Treetops.

These elk liked the front yard.

Portland

Downtown.

Heaven: Powell's Books, the largest independent bookstore in the world. The store takes up a city block, several warehouses, and several auxiliary locations around Portland. This is the main location, the City of Books-- 68,000 sq. feet; 1,000,000 books; 150 sections subdivided into 3,500 subsections. They give you a map when you walk in, and that's the directory in the picture.

An aisle of the poetry section, in the Blue Room. The entire store is color-coded.
Books are used and new and (mostly) cheap.

In the sci-fi section, a pillar has been dedicated to autographs. That's Neil Gaiman.

My hotel room was like something out of a Heatmiser song.

Waving cats, in a store called Monkey King.


For a Yorkie?

Shout out to: Luis Medina, esq.
From: Chinatown in Portland.

I found an arcade with a bar in it. It was called Ground Control.
I beat the 94-95 Dallas Mavericks.

Record store.

Voodoo Donuts specializes in bizarre pastries. When Bourdain went there for an episode of No Reservations, he had a maple-syrup donut topped with bacon. I just couldn't do that. So: an oreo donut.

Elephant.