Swum

If you were to ask me my two most reliable pleasures, I would be able to bark back a certain answer — the way that little children do, when you ask them what they want to eat, or what they dreamt last night. I would tell you that they are reading and swimming, mostly because they have the same rhythm, all disembodied and steady.

Hawaiian

It is not called a “Hawaiian shirt” in Hawaii. 

In stereotype, folklore, and the Oriental Trading catalog, the adjective “Hawaiian” evokes a place separate from reality. America’s constant backyard luau. Consequently, “Hawaiian” shirts are for retirees, golfers, slackers, and mainland denizens of Vacationland.

Interview with Sam Vernon

Sam and I are studio neighbors at Real Time and Space in Downtown Oakland. We’ve done a collaborative talk for my Black Printed Matter residency project at E.M Wolfman where we geeked out about the ways traditional printmaking has left an imprint on our art practices and moving toward decolonizing that practice.

Spain

“Those cruises are crazy, I was on one actually. There was an alarm and we all had to get into boats. It was crazy, man.”

Kristen and I are having a hostel roof special in Seville. Paella and alcoholic punch up here for seven euros. What the fuck.

Doll, Divine

Late at night, while my partner is watching basketball in the other room, I excuse myself to play video games. This is a half-truth. Instead of playing one of the many games I’ve purchased and queued up, I open my computer and go to a familiar bookmarked page: dolldivine.com.

The Four Queens

I have been consistently coming to Zoe’s apartment for four years now; the first time I walked in, I was so overcome with envy of its shabby Craftsman charm (I was still fairly new to Oakland), its built-in bookcases, its gold-painted mouldings, that I turned right around, walked down the stairs back to her front door, and burst into tears.

Got Next

I saw my first WNBA game in the summer of 1997 at The Forum in Inglewood. My family drove from Bakersfield to see the Los Angeles Sparks in our Dodge Caravan with dual sliding doors and a trademarked color only a seventh grader could remember: teal-island-satin glow.