January 11, 1985. I am writing this from Sally Van Etten’s house. It is more peaceful here than the rest of Oakland, it seems, at least more pleasant than being at various old people’s houses.

Yesterday. Well, let me get back to Wednesday. Surprisingly enough, Robert came over in the afternoon. I was quite confused. I thought he was going to school in Albuquerque? But he said that since he had not come back the last semester, he had been dis-enrolled.

I think that it is surprising that he just left and did not tell anyone about it. Anyway, he appeared in our kitchen, and in the driveway stood his new front wheel drive Ford station wagon, which he had purchased with his college money. He didn’t shop around for this car. In fact, Ford was the first place he went to. The car looked okay. Lots of room, at least.

We talked for a while after Pat and Mike had come and gone with Dad. They headed down to Albuquerque.

Finally, he left, and mom and I scurried about, trying to get ourselves organized and fed before 6:15.  We left the house at this time. In order to make the film The Gods Must be Crazy on time at 7 o’clock. I drove and felt really out of touch.  When it’s dark and cars whizz by with their lights on, at mega miles per hour, and I can’t see the white line, I have problems feeling confident! Plus, I was thinking of the rest of this excursion out here, and that has had me anticipating some disaster.

So, we roared down to this theater and found that the film had been sold out!  This put me in a lower mood, and mom drove the rest of the way to Albuquerque.

We got to the Best western Hotel, and discovered that no reservations had been made in our name. They finally found them, but only when they looked in the no show pile for Monday the 6th, when Mike called to make the reservations. They had plenty of room, so it was not a hassle.

We hung out in the room. I read for a while, then crawled into bed. I actually slept okay.

We arose at 5 o’clock Thursday morning, and went directly to the airport. There were no problems. We took off just as light was beginning to accumulate in the sky.

For a short while, the land was visible from above, streaked with whiteness and blue in the early morning shadows. Soon a continuous bank of clouds arrived, and obliterated the view for miles in every direction. I was hoping to see the Grand Canyon, but unfortunately, when the clouds began to thin out, I realized that we were over the grand section of desert that makes up the bulk of Nevada.

There was a fair amount of snow on the ground, highlighting the water rivulets and pathways, showing so clearly the action of water upon the land. It must be stark and desolate down there. I wondered, as I did the last time we flew over (In July, 1984) what it will be like to be a traveler of ancient times in that land: the overwhelming vast deserts and silent plateaus mile after mile. It is difficult to envision from a plane.

Soon we reached the Sierras, and they were heavily covered with snow. We also flew over the White Mountains. Coming over the valley, we could see a thick layering of ground fog, something I hoped would not be there, as it will render driving difficult in the valley on our way back to New Mexico. Looking down upon the foothills that exist on the west side of the central valley, where the residential section I am in is located, I was surprised to see how green it was getting. In July, the hills are brown.

Our landing went smoothly, although I was certain that the pilot had done something wrong and we were headed for disaster. Luckily, I am always wrong in my intuitive feeling for the process of aircraft maneuvering.

We all piled into one small Dodge Colt and drove straight away to Marian’s house. The drive there was stress, speed, and mania; at least it seemed to me, when some cars are changing lanes and darting about as quickly as passenger cars on the main highway. I begin to freak out.

It is my impression that collisions and serious fuck-ups are avoided at every second, only by sure luck. It is wasted thought, though, to imagine all the things that could go wrong. I must learn to accept fate.

While Mike and I were in the Dodge in Oakland waiting for the others to do bank business, I was approached by two African American guys at separate times. The first was visibly drunk.  He held a bottle in one arm, and in the other hand, held an uprooted Poinsettia plant, the roots and dirt of which he shook all over the outside  (and inside) of the car. Upon leaning in, I saw he was chewing bubble gum, but the wrapper was still on it, and it dangled loosely out of his mouth when he spoke. What he said was mostly undecipherable ramblings, but he looked at the drawing I was working on, and said it was a silk screen. He left as abruptly as he had come.

Then another guy came sauntering up, and told me, in a slurry voice, that he had no food nor money, and could I help, and I said no. I was not really excited about these two encounters.

Marian’s house is elaborate and ornate, many roomed with servants in their own quarters.  Marian’s husband, though once Dr. Richard, has Alzheimer’s disease. We did not see him. The adult folk discussed financial and property matters, and after consuming many pieces of raisin toast, I went outside and sketched. (Near Marion’s house, Oakland, 1-10-85)

It is so different here than in Los Alamos. Everything is green. The plants, and the trees, and the architecture are all different.  So I drew, and soon we left for Fran (my grandmother’s) house. The car seems to be fine, almost excellent shape. We fixed the fuel leak and replaced a light that was burnt out.

We ate dinner at Gram and Grandpop’s house. It was lamb chops.

Okay, I left. I drove by myself to Sally’s house, and I am glad I did not get lost.  So, okay, I would like to go into Berkeley today, and I have to get some stuff at the Sears in Oakland. I would like to try to find Jim Frey, if he is still going to school here.

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Journal, January 12th, 1985. And now it is Saturday, the 12th of January. When I last wrote, I was about to go off on an excursion into the heart of madness in the Bay Area.

I figured out where I had to go Sears, bike stores, and the Brooklyn campus. So I headed off by myself, in my new car. Ha!

It seems strange to own a car, but I am not losing any sleep over it. I first went down to the Sears in Oakland. It was mighty seedy, and yellowish inside like some bathroom. I was able to find a fire extinguisher and smoke detector as well. This was no problem. I am feeling better at driving around in a big city.

I went all the way down telegraph until I hit the campus. Then left until Shattuck. I tried the ‘Missing Link’ for a bike rack, but they were confused and didn’t have all the necessary parts, so I traveled some great blocks to REI. I have always wanted to see this store. It is large, just like a three-dimensional catalog. I had bad luck here too, for they were all out of the lockable type of rack.

The Yakima seemed the best for the bug. They referred me to a store called Velo sport, back up the way I had come. I managed to find this without trouble.

In fact, I am fairly pleased with myself for being able to do it. I worry too much that I will fuck up. So anyway, I ended up buying a rack at Vellosport.

A short guy with suspenders helped me. I was glad to get out of there. I parked in some high rise place outside the campus and walked around to the Campanile, enjoying the sunshine, and pretending to be a Berkeley student.

I did a drawing close to here, looking south through some large sycamore trees. It felt really good. (Sycamores on the UC Berkeley campus, 1-11-85)

From here I brought a large burrito, as I was starving, I munched down rapidly, and threaded my way back to Asilomar Circle.

It takes forever to get anywhere in this place. There is so much traffic. At every minute of the day, it is saddening, and I feel entirely hopeless about it.

I did make it up to Fran’s house where the folks were working, and here dad and I changed the front and rear left hand side tires, as one was wearing worse than the other.

I feel most depressed when I enter that house. It has an old, withered, uncreative feel about it.

In fact, I could not live in the Bay Area. Perhaps it’s because there are so many people. There is no sense of preservation or sanity. Of course I feel this way, while experiencing rapid and crowded highway transport.

(Note: I ended up moving out to the Bay Area just three years later, and was there for 7 months).

Back at Sallys house: she made an excellent ravioli dinner for me, Lorenzo, her friend Bob, Hilary, Mom, Dad, Pat, and Mike. It was nice. I ate heavily.

I was really tired and kept yawning and felt dead. So when I crashed out, I really crashed out. I started listening to the Dead, and woke up just as the tape was ending. I slept well.

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Oh, January 13, 1985. Today, Saturday, was a very nice day. After breakfast, Sally, Lorenzo and I went into San Francisco in Lorenzo’s car very speedily, I must say. That highway and the Bay Bridge is just too radical for me. I can’t imagine living here for long at all.

We went into the Rockefeller Center to see the interesting interior, all angled and the water sculpture was quite fascinating. We went outside, and there was another very large water-related sculpture, large square pipes funneling water every which direction. I looked up into the sky and saw a view that really blew me away, so I did a drawing here. (San Francisco, 1-12-85)

I am glad I did a sketch here. We caught a cable car to Grace Cathedral, which was really beautiful inside. It was sunny outside, and I felt very cheerful.  Parts of San Francisco are nice and clean, very elegant, and aesthetically pleasing. This was one of those places. We walked from here through Chinatown, which was ritzy and crowded, over to San Francisco School of Fine Arts, which is a large, funkily architectured concrete building. We ate lunch at the top.

I bought a Grateful Dead poster at a poster shop in the Italian section before reaching the school.  Lorenzo bought some food at an Italian deli. The view from the top was great, and the food tasted good. I drew here again. Lorenzo was in a great mood; he really knows the city well. He knows the names and histories to most of the places. Sally seemed a little tired.

We walked down to the waterfront, past a group of jamming Jamaicans and pigeons. We looked in at the Naval Museum briefly, interesting models, very intricate.  We saw a huge anchor, which was truly hefty.  We walked all the way back to the parked car, perhaps 2 miles or one with an intense stairway climb to the old fire tower on the hill. Nice views. So many cars, though.

The drive back was crazy. I cannot believe there are so many cars here. Humans cannot live this way for very long.

We went out for pizza this evening, in a very small and dingy place, however, it was excellent. I am worried about tomorrow and the next day. However, at least I’m not doing it alone.

I will write more tomorrow. It’s getting late.

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January 15th 1985. The only creative time I have had for the last 2 solid days of driving was one sketch done yesterday in the car. ( landscapes from the car, 1-14-26)

I did the sketch just after we had passed Flagstaff.  Sally was driving.

We left about 7 o’clock on Sunday morning, descending into the fog from her house. Sally started driving because she knew the general direction. It was foggy, but not really thick.

Before we knew it, we had gone over Altamont Pass, the windmills stationary. I-5 was foggy. Before Bakersfield, we filled up, and as we were pulling out, the car suddenly faltered as if something had restricted the gas flow. Then, the normal propulsion was restored. This worried me greatly. We were okay until after Bakersfield, when we were trying to make it over the pass that marks the entrance into the Mojave Desert, the same thing happened again, and much worse.

We could barely go in second gear. So we turned around and went back into Bakersfield. And at a Chevron station, we were referred to another 76 station that had a mechanic.

We found a station, although it was not the right one. The attendant there was a bozo, and could not help us, just as we were about to pull away, Sally said, ‘Let’s ask this man who has a VW, if he could recommend any station for us’?

So she asked, and he said, no, but he would look at our engine. He took one look and said,  ‘There’s air bubbles going into your fuel filter’. And it turned out that the hose leading to the filter was too short, and thereby was crimped, not allowing enough fuel to go by.

We got another tube for $2, and  Sally bought this man’s children a pop each, or something, perhaps ice cream.  How lucky!

We went for the pass again and made it with no difficulty. We thought that our tank only held six gallons, so we stopped frequently to fill up, only buying about $4 or $5 worth of gas each time. We drove to Needles and stated the Kiva Motel, and we ate at Denny’s.

(apparently, according to Sally, our neighbors in the room adjacent were quite noisy, and I knocked on their door and asked them to be quiet – a bold move, but it worked).

We woke up at 5 o’clock, and were on our way by 6.  Lots of wind before Kingman. We drove and drove, etc. My back was hurting pretty badly.  I see the landscapes as if I had never set eyes on them before. Our goal was to drive, not to draw, however.

Flagstaff was forested, almost boring in that respect, very regular.  The road was awful at times. It was also offer awful out of Gallup. There are some interesting cliffs there.

We got into Albuquerque about 7 o’clock. I drove up to Los Alamos. I feel very strange, sort of low, with not much enthusiasm for the promise of things to come.

Well, I think I might leave for Boulder tomorrow. The bike rack works. I just have to pack and get my general stuff together.

I did 5 drawings while in California. That justifies the trip. (Also, the car does).

At least I have it now. The trip is behind me. I don’t ever want to live in the Bay area. However, I also said, ‘I never want to own a car’ and now I own one. What a hypocrite. In any event, I plan on using it wisely, meaning only when necessary, This could entail trips made to a new wilderness areas, I guess. There is no other way, I suppose. Goodbye.