Man and the Moon

Man adores moon and sometimes even two-doors. Here are a couple of new pieces from a New Year's trip to the desert.

Painting Pyramid

Most people spend time at Lake Tahoe when they visit Reno. Well that's probably a good thing because Nevada's real stash lay further out in it's geologic center.

If Lake Tahoe is turtlenecks, Pyramid Lake is cut offs. Or maybe it's firearms. Hell, it could be any concoction of wild west activities meets Native American mysticism to be honest. But of all, Pyramid Lake is nature at its best.

We headed out on State Route 445, the 42-mile hwy known as Pyramid HWY and made a day of it. Hot springs, target practice, cooking, ice-cold swimming, a dash of juvenile vandalism. I'll just get to the pictures now for the sake of illiteracy in America.

After the first dozen or so miles the rocks start becoming something more than rocks.

Keep it simple like two lanes.

Or even more simple like dirt. The Pinnacles off to the right

A small Sierra Wave-like cloud over Pyramid.

Smoke in the hills.

Steeper than it looks.

Good company getting stacked.

You're on Paiute land now.

Good location for a horror movie.

Americana.

A green lantern crawler.

What comes around goes around with a Pinnacle rooftop.

Insanoman being Insanoman.

Tegether. It's like when people get tethered together. Tegether.

Desert Drawings

Just back from a quick trip with my good friend Yale Wolf. Driving south following the beautiful Sierra and Carson range into Gardnerville, Topaz, and Bridgeport without c.d.s, mixtapes, or iPods.

Just the rattling windows not fully sealed. Yellow cottonwood leaves along 395. Home made signs with chipped gold leaf. Gas station honey packets on squaw bread. 12 pack of Coors from the local butcher. A hot spring filled with residue from the hands of painters just done from painting the inside of the Bridgeport jail. Juvenile vandalism with a hint of Monet's lilypads. Butch Cassidy and the breakdance kid. Keeping secrets from the boss but advertising on the new Times Square (the internet).

Oh the desert. My favorite silent friend. Never there to ask or tell or beg or approve. You just are and that's what makes you great. Thanks.

-check out Yales' work if you get a minute. And more on my flickr.

En route to Vegas

Drove out hwy 50 with my pops to Austin and then down the Big Smokey Valley to Carvers. Passed trucks with tires the size of houses. Cut west to Tonopah where there was nothing French about the F. Dip I had at the Banc. Caught the tailings of moon light on derelict school houses in Goldfield before blasting into Vegas for a 93 degree midnight. What a trip.