The Doubletree Hotel, in San Jose, where Pantheacon is currently held. I like to hang out in the bathrooms and think about the women who come and crimp the tissues every day. That's my mother's flask sitting on the entertainment center, overpowered by the reflection of the lamp in the gloss on the particleboard; I like to think about who polishes those surfaces, and the surface of the faucet. I'm aware that the job is most likely a boring/grueling one, but when I imagine myself performing these tasks, it is in a meditative state. This is the state in which I took these pictures, and the state in which they ought to be viewed.
Ragle Park, in Sebastopol, where I spent many days between the ages of one and sixteen, and which I visit every time I'm in town. It is a beautiful, expansive park, with creeks and hills and little paths and little gardens, tadpoles in the summer and mud pits in the winter, and lots of trees to climb. This spot in the park, specifically, is special to me. It's one of those places that feels completely magical and private. It is always lit ecstatically. The branches of these trees defy logic, constantly flexing to extend, heavy, further away from the trunk and parallel to the ground. These photographs look unreal, and for that reason I find them more factual. Look at the blue here, and the gloss.
In-N-Out Burger. There's not much to say that hasn't already been said about how amazing it is. I encounter a lot of people in Chicago who are jealous of my California heritage soley based on the fact that I get to eat In-N-Out every time I visit. I really love these photographs because of how eerie they look. The restaraunt looks like a demon hellhole with grey zombie employees, somehow still spotless while infested with decay. All of which just makes me love In-N-Out more. Quality you can taste.
