Knox Bronson ~ Riding The Wild Bubble

Please don't pray or pretend to pray in front of the camera. I don't care how spiritual you think it makes you look.

How this incredible and influential and once enormously popular artist has been all but forgotten baffles me.

In the Bush era, I Can Haz Cheeseburgers? was my refuge.

I just realized that I have been here for 25,032 days, or thereabouts.

Got to send the assholes and creeps back under the rocks from which they slithered.

One of the coolest men ever. Great documentary on Netflix.

The name of the movie is "Ingrid Goes West," not "Bridget Goes West." Sorry!

Another walk down memory lane to a distant land in another dimension, Berkeley of the late sixties and early seventies. Be sure to visit the website. http://ragtheater.com

A casual remark in a dive bar still resonates today.

We can never romanticize gangsters and organized crime again after seeing Donald Trump close up.

Exile in Cowtown (twice) comes to an end.

After my misadventure on the highway yesterday, I felt the need for the life-affirming joy of building a biodynamic farm. "The Biggest Little Farm" delivered in spades. A vision for the future.

Today's driving adventure will suffice for the rest of my days.

My somewhat foggy recollections about the final concert of the punk rock era.

I saw The Avengers at the Ivy Room in Albany last night. Great show! I used to live upstairs from them in the late seventies, in San Francisco's North Beach. They were (and are) the best. They opened for the Sex Pistols at the Pistols' last show at Winterland in February of 1978. That was the weirdest show I ever saw. I'll tell that story tomorrow.

How the composition "Stephanie in the Morning" came to be.

Sharing my process, talkin' 'bout Monroe, walking on Snow White.