Ofrenda

Chicago 1955

Posted in the time that by gwen on February 15, 2010

Holy cheese this makes my loins quiver!

Crazy mile-high jumproping, Chicago 1955

Crazy mile-high jumproping, Chicago 1955

[more! photographer unknown but it looks like something out of Life magazine.]

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To infinity…and beyond!

Posted in the time that by gwen on January 2, 2010

January 1: New Year's kiss #10

This was our 10th new year’s kiss. Our 11th new year’s eve together [in 2000, we weren’t together yet but spent it on IRC together waiting for the world to collapse into itself]. This New Year’s Eve, Chad made pad see-yew for dinner and we ate late, got dressed up and rushed over to the base just in time to watch the San Francisco fireworks. There was some swing band on the radio and they were counting down just as we pulled up to the edge of the bay. We kissed and lit our sparklers and held hands and oohed and ahhed. It was especially clear and breezy and the fireworks were the most spectacular I’ve seen — this slideshow was more or less our view. I don’t know about you, but I have seen so many fireworks at this point that sometimes, I’ll admit it, my attention wanders. I could not take my eyes off these ones.

After the fireworks ended, we came back home and ended up not going back out, we sat at the table making lists together of what we’re going to work on in 2010, but I got tired and laid down on the couch and was *out*, I was feigning consciousness when Chad came in to read his to me but it was that dreamy Peanuts bwa-bwa-bwa talk. I had him read it again this morning, it is much more thoughtful than mine [which is all, continue learning to do this, take a class in that] and I am adopting large swaths of it as my own.

I was thinking about doing one of those decade recaps but most of what I come up with is so negative. And I am not one to dwell so.

2010. I was trying to tell Chad how unfathomably futuristic it is to me, 1999 was titillating and 2000 was charmingly novel but 2010 — it has been some far-off sci-fi date my entire life, like we would absolutely have flying cars and robot maids by now if it was ever actually going to come. Which it wasn’t because OMG SO FAR IN THE FUTURE. Yet here it is. I don’t usually feel different as years pass but there is something about this one. I don’t know how I feel exactly, but there is something palpable, things are going to change one way or another and I am not going to jinx myself so let’s leave it at that.

In lieu of recap, here is the new new year’s meme via J.
The first sentences of your past new years’ days.

2009 – i keep thinking about writing and haven’t gotten around to it.

2008 –

January 1, 2008, 00:00:01

My resolution for 2008 is to remember to focus the camera before setting the timer.

2007 – Fuck you, 2006

2006 –

Rain, new year's day

2005 [from the old rawr blog] – i went to gilman on new years, it was smaller than i remember, even though the last time i was there i was definitely grown.

2004 – If you happened to watch the 11 o’clock news Saturday night on the Bay Area’s ABC affiliate, you saw the boy.

2003 – First Kiss: the boy. New Year parties are so much better when you don’t have to worry about whose tongue you’re going to wrestle at midnight.

And that’s all I’ve got online.

————-

Happy new year, kids. Hope 2010 treats all of us well, with more love, more joy, more experience, more accomplishment, and more kindness to each other and ourselves. xoxoxo.

Earthquake Day #20

Posted in photo, the time that by gwen on October 17, 2009

Reading: Loma Prieta – 20 Years Later
Listening to: 15 seconds of silence

Ofrenda

Considering how heavily the media’s been covering the 20th anniversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake over the past couple weeks here, and how profoundly it affected me, it’s rather surprising that I completely forgot it was today.

I was just telling someone how clear the memory of it is — I am getting to the point where a lot of things have just fallen away, but the sound of the bricks of our chimney scattering, the roar of the entire world moving, the feeling of being knocked off my feet and the beams of our building creaking and snapping, and the following stillness except for the chunks of dirt dislodged from our hill settling on the asphalt are as sharp as if it was yesterday.

Cypress Street, 16 years later

There’s a memorial park down where the Cypress Freeway used to be. There’s this beautiful piece that commemorates the people who died there and the members of the community who worked to free the people who were trapped in the collapsed double-decker freeway.

The Ladders

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