I guess I’d be going to NC in September.

Months later, everything came together and I was packing my bags to spend an entire ten (!) days in North Carolina. It turns out that The Independent (the publication who was putting this whole thing on) needed some press photographers, and I jumped at the chance. I sold my old VIP ticket (to the much deserving Kelly Reid) and secured my press pass. I was ready to go.

But then things got complicated.

Complication #1: San Bruno explodes.

Thursday night. I’m finishing up with preparations before Aaron takes me to the airport. I’m in the kitchen when I hear… “Uhhh, Helena? I think we may have a problem.”

I come into my room to see Aaron watching the news. Apparently San Bruno’s on fire.

[photocredit: Scott Fong]

I feel like most of you have caught wind (no pun intended) of the news as it since went national, but apparently a giant PG&E pipe exploded underneath San Bruno, setting the neighborhood on fire. Total unworldly catastrophe. I should mention that San Bruno is right next to the airport that I’m supposed to be flying out of in four hours.

We continue to watch the news to see what we should do, and see that the Highway 280 (what we would use to get to the airport) is completely shut down. That puts a bit of a damper on our plans. Hm.

After a couple of hours, we decide to take the scenic route down the 101 to the airport, and surprisingly, we arrived quickly with not an obstacle in our way. We gazed at the burning mountain passing by us as we approached the airport.

Aaron drops me off and we say our goodbyes. I was in.

Obstacle 2: The plane doesn’t work.

I quickly get through security and arrive at my gate with plenty of time before my flight. I’m taking the redeye – I’m to leave SFO at approximately 12:30, and will arrive in Raleigh before noon, just in time to catch all of the Hopscotch day parties, and see lots of old friends I haven’t seen in ages, including the Hometapes crew, who I toured with last summer and haven’t seen since, and who happen to be hosting a 7-hour day party with my favorite bands, people, PopTarts and nachos. Needless to say, I was looking forward to it.

We board the plane, I check my bag at the door (if you haven’t tried it yet, don’t check your bags with Delta! You can just check it at the plane, and save yourself $25), and get settled. I casually glance at the checked bag receipt. Flight 666.

We sit. And we sit. And we sit. We sit for like an hour. Finally, the captain comes on at 1:15 or so and tells us that the left engine is broken, but they’re trying to see if they can “fix it real quick before we take off.” This feels good.

Around 1:30 the captain tells us it’s still broken, but they’re continuing to hack at it. We continue to sit. The engine is clearly shot but we’re just going to sit in it for a while anyway. Maybe it’ll work if we sit in it long enough.

Finally around 2 am, the captain tells us that our flight is in fact cancelled, and we’re all to head back to the front gate to see if we can be rescheduled for another flight tomorrow. I now miss a full day of shooting, as well as seeing all of my friends at the coolest day-party-friend-reunion I could possibly imagine. Fantastic.

Let me tell you, I have a history of exceptionally bad experiences with Delta. Well, maybe they’re not exceptional, because it seems like everyone hates Delta. If you used to be on my old travel-adventure email list, you may remember one of my previous Delta nightmare stories, which actually resulted in me getting a $400 voucher which I used on a vacation to San Francisco which caused me to fall in love with the city and eventually move here.

Anyway.

Delta semi-reschedules me for a 6 am flight. I ask the teller if I’m guaranteed a spot on this flight, because I HAVE to get to Raleigh for a job tomorrow. He says yes and gives me a $12 food voucher for my troubles. THANK YOU DELTA. I walk away, checking my ticket. I’m on the flight’s waiting list. This is all going wonderfully.

So now it’s 2:30, and I’m stuck inside my own airport. What do I do now? I give Aaron a call, despite the fact that there’s nothing he can do about it. Apparently he thought I was the alarm clock, because he “snoozed” me twice. I call my mom, because at this point I’m delirious and apparently don’t mind being a late-night calling asshole, but she didn’t answer either.

Man, it’s a pretty awful feeling being stuck in an airport overnight. You sort of feel homeless. Since security was closed until the morning, I couldn’t even go into the gates to sleep. I trudged into a tiny food court at the front of the airport and settled into a booth to sleep.

[this is the view from my regal food court bed.]

My mom calls me a half-hour into my nap to tell me that she was already expecting this to happen, as her horoscope told me that my flight would have complications and that it was all happening for a good reason. Susan Miller‘s on point ya’ll, just sayin’.

Fast forward to 6 am. My name is finally called as the last one on the waiting list as I gobble my shitty twelve-dollar breakfast panini, compliments of Delta. I hop on my flight, finally en route to North Cack.

I arrive around 5 pm. My mom and Barry Barrington (that is her boyfriend and yes that is his name) pick me up and take me home to rest for about 15 minutes. I try to make myself look slightly less homeless, then head straight downtown to begin shooting. I’m feeling a bit strange, having only physically laid down and half-slept for one hour in two days.

Hopscotch night one was rad. I saw approximately one million people I haven’t seen in nine months. I saw lots of incredible bands. I got to spend time with my best friends. Hopscotch night two was about the same, and I was fortunately a bit more rested. I won’t get into much more detail, mostly because I was in zombie mode and don’t remember much of it, but here are some photos from the weekend.

Broken Social Scene

Americans In France

Panda Bear

Atlas Sound (my favorite performance of the night)

Raekwon

The Rosebuds

Sharon Van Etten

Bear In Heaven

Spontaneous appearance by Helping Hands Marching Band during Public Enemy

Megafaun

No Age

The Love Language

NC adventures part 2 to come. END!

Here are a few that are fun.

MOMA.

Jaguar Love.

Mark Growden.

Meghan & Shalaco.

Laura.

Ernie.

Valentine’s at Dolores Park.

Brandom & Lewis’ roof.

That’s all for now. Hooray for catching up!

This particular adventure was centered around the birthday of my dear friend Tim Lytvinenko. If you kept up with my blogs this summer, you know that Tim toured the country with me with Bowerbirds + Megafaun, and he takes care of Raleigh for me while I’m in California. He’s a kickass web developer and is doing some incredible work with Luceo Images (who happen to be showing in NYC right now – go find them if you’re in the area). You should check them out.

Anyway. For Tim’s birthday:

- A big group of compadres gathered at Tim’s for an epic curry feast, courtesy of his family.
- We kicked around a large ball containing ice cream ingredients until ice cream was formed. Flavors: avocado and Guinness. Yum.
- One full, we all sat down and began a white elephant gift exchange of sorts – the only real difference being that, instead of people picking gifts, ladies were picking men.
- Once men were drawn/selected, the pairs were matched up and handcuffed together. Yes, you read that right.
- All of us, once handcuffed (there must have been at least a dozen pairs), headed to the bus stop to be shipped to the one and only Glenwood South to do what we never do… go dancing on Glenwood South. Destination #1 = The Pourch. (punny, yes.)
- We quickly dominated the club, dancing in attached pairs, sometimes getting creative and find ways to interlock multiple cuffed groups of people into one giant dancing human mass.
- It wasn’t long until we all got kicked out. No big reason… just for being handcuffed.
- We then found the R-Line, which toted us to our favorite downtown neighborhood, where we only had time to run to Landmark and Busy Bee, where we danced, still handcuffed, til the bars closed. People began finding ways to disconnect, but Chad and I were determined to be the clustercuffs winners and stay hooked together until approximately 3 AM. We deemed ourselves winners until Logan and Stefanie arrived and were in fact handcuffed the longest. Assholes.
- Then we all danced around Tim’s living room until 6 in the morning.

Normal birthdays FTW!

Ok, here are some photos. I didn’t bring my camera downtown, as it’s not really possible to take photos while handcuffed… you’ll just have to imagine the chaos for yourself.

Raleigh adventures, I love you. Please don’t ever change.

My brother was off work for the night and offered to tote me. He would arrive at 1:00. This would all be great, if my belongings weren’t strewn all over Raleigh.

Most of my luggage was stored at friend Sam’s house, which wasn’t of much use, as I hadn’t actually stayed there at all during this trip. As many of you know, planning while traveling isn’t really my thing.

It would be easy to swing by and pick up my stuff, but unfortunately, Sam was nowhere to be found. So Logan and I decided to go search the establishment most likely to find her in – The Busy Bee. I decided to call brother Kane and friend Erika over to meet us for brunch in the meantime.

We found Sam, and we found brunch. I got a key, and we were on our way to find my luggage.

Upon arrival, I spend a good five minutes trying to get in the front door of her apartment with the key she had provided me, but to no avail.

I try and try and try. Kane asks me if I am sure I have the right door. I tell him he is being silly.

I was definitely at the wrong apartment. I’m sure the crowd of people cooking out outside were a bit confused to see me try to break into two adjacent apartments, successfully entering the second one. I hastily grabbed my luggage and we were on our way.

After two hours of observing eastern Carolina’s brilliantly designed storefronts and billboards, we finally arrived in the homeland to find my mother and my baby catchild, Raphael, waiting for us.

Raphael was my partner in crime in Raleigh. He was my only roommate, and we were serious compadres. I gave him to Kane to babysit while I toured the country this summer, and he soon ended up with my mom in New Bern. I had all plans to fly him over to California upon my settling in, but as I predicted, my mother has become quite infatuated with him and is not so ready to give him up. For now, it is probably for the best, as I will probably be touring and traveling quite a bit in the near future… but I do miss him so so much. He is my precious white monstrous yeti cat child.

Raph apparently has a new fun habit of climbing onto the outside edge of the second-story patio, just for shits and giggles. I’m not entirely sure how he hasn’t died yet. But there’s not much you can do other than just let him do it.

Anyway. Enough about the cat.

My one night in New Bern was great. The three of us ate soup, sat on the porch, played fetch with Raph, and nerded out on our computers together until the wee hours of the morning.

The next day I spent my last New Bern meal at none other than Carolina Bagel (yet to find bagels that compare, even in San Francisco), then took a final walk around downtown with the family, shooting some glamour shots here and there. I’m getting them to work on their sweet model poses while I’m gone. All of us will be pros by Christmas.

(PC: Annette Stone)

Goodbye, North Carolina. I love you, but west coast is calling.

END!

I’m particularly proud of this set. I’m not used to shooting people, and it still makes me nervous, but I see myself getting better at it, and I’m excited to share these.

I will warn you now – if you are easily offended by all that is unfamiliar to you, just don’t view this blog. Okay? Okay.

END!

I stumbled upon this little gem on the way to the museum. I could hear them blasting Bee Gees through the streets from within my bus as I passed them the first time. Once off the bus, I patiently waited for them to catch up and had a nice brief interaction with the unit. They invited me to hop on, but I told them I had to be on my way. It would have been fun though. I saw them again later that night in my neighborhood.

I met up with my friend Tara at the SFMOMA entrance, and she quickly told me to turn around to see Pierce Brosnan, the biggest crush of my 9th year of life, patiently waiting for his vehicle beside us. Damn. He still looks as good as he did in Dante’s Peak. His driver arrived and swept him away before I could charm him. Next time.

So back to the MOMA. Exhibitions of note:

Sensate – Bodies & Design. A collection of pieces that reflect debates about what bodies are and how they relate to design. I particularly loved Andrew Kudless’s 45-foot cast plaster P_Wall. It just looks like pasty fat rolls. Also reminded me of my 9th year of life (my “butterball” phase, as my dad would kindly refer to it).

I was surprised to find that I was actually allowed to take photographs. Last time I was in an art museum was last fall in NYC, and they certainly weren’t having anything to do with my camera use over there. I suppose that, thanks to cell phone cameras, museums have finally retreated in the photo war.

I have discovered that photographing glass boxes is a convenient way of photographing people that don’t want to be photographed. Until these people notice I’ve taken 20 photos of the same box and become suspicious.

As far as my approach to photographing the rest of the museum… I work keeping in mind that at least 37290 people have photos of the pieces in these displays. I can either take some generally uninspiring photos trying to duplicate what is displayed, or I can try to make something unique out of what I’m supplied with… basically incorporating the piece and its environment to make something completely new. I’ve been trying to use this approach to most things I find in the city these days.




(Yeah, this is one of those replicas, but I loved it too much not to include.)



Okay, if you have the opportunity, go see the Richard Avedon exhibit. Jesus effing christ. His portraiture is incredible.




Seriously, this photo scares the shit out of me. Avedon’s portrait of dance teacher/killer Joe Piro. The portrait is perfect.

The rest of the museum was a bit anticlimactic at this point.

Once finished up at the museum, I headed back home to find a little art party in the yard, consisting of Cyndie, Maia, and Martha. Everyone’s preparing for the giant annual art party my house throws every fall. Glad my social debut happens to be as one of the hosts.

That’s all for now.

END!

I decided on the Federal. Mostly because I love the structure, and the food… and everywhere else I wanted to try wasn’t open for lunch. I had curry corn chowder + bread + butter + half of a grilled cheese piled with roasted tomatoes, cucumber, avocado, and balsamic on grilled focaccia. ALL FOR FIVE DOLLARS. Best lunch special ever?

Conveniently, it also happened to be Danny’s birthday. It was officially on Friday, but he was born in Korea, so according to Korea time, his birthday commenced while we were having lunch.

So we celebrated.

Birthday jump.

Danny actually fell on his face approximately 0.5 seconds after this photo was taken. Maybe he’ll practice his jumping while in Europe.

We had some time to kill, so we asked waitress where we should head next. She advised us to either check out a graveyard down the street (we checked it out for 2 seconds. uninspiring.), or go over to the Duke Gardens. We ended up choosing the latter.

New friend.

Accidental outtake. Turned out halfway interesting.

END!

Just a hodgepodge of random Raleigh photos from 2009.