Brownstones to Red Dirt is a beautiful documentary by Chad Walker and Dave Lamattina, both of which are my collegues at Blue Sky. It’s a pen-pal story that connects at-risk sixth graders living in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn and war-torn orphans living in Freetown, Sierra Leone.

This postcard is only 1 of about 150 more being made in an effort to help build a new school for the orphans.  There will be a ONLINE BENEFIT AUCTION on eBay starting March 6th.

Gametime @ Staples.  Lakers Vs. Knicks.  November 24, 2009.

Gasol:  post victory.  Kobe is next to him talking to George Lopez.

After the game, I went into the Team LA Store.  My wife came over to me and said, “Stevie Wonder is right over there.”  I was like “Wha–” and spun around.  He was like 5 feet away trying to keep a low-pro (hahaha… absolutely impossible)!

The HUGE bodyguard next to him was really nice to everyone, but the store staffers were clamoring, “no photos please.”  So this is my mental picture!

At the start of the game, they showed all the celebrities on the Jumbotron. But when Stevie popped on, the stadium announcer addressed the crowd with a proper introduction:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Stevie Wonder is here tonight.”

Maybe it was to let him know what was happening, but it came off feeling larger than life. The whole crowd roared and he busted that big smile.

Right now it looks like we have about 6-8 inches of fluff.  I wonder if I should snowboard the hill outside my house.  Hmmmm…  While I think about it, check this out:

A normal can of stewed tomatoes, right?

WRONG.

Turn the can over. It’s just like playing a Led Zepplin record backwards.

Pure evil, kids.  Pure tomatoey evil.

How ’bout a new label?  SLAYER has a new album and they’re back on tour.  Maybe they could use a new sponser?

Dear William H. Frake III,

Don’t worry.

Hugs,

Rafael

Beneath the palm trees of Palm Springs, on a street called Monterey, there was a house.  A house that was built in 1958.

51 Years later, we sipped drinks by the pool and listened to Frank on the Hi-Fi.  We even drove by his old home.  We rung in the new year with brothers, sisters and friends.  We reminisced.  And everything came into perspective.

Why not call it a day

In a sensible way

And we’ll remain friends

Be kind to each other this Holiday Season!!!

Feliz Navidad peoples.

Love-Rz

Bob Camp.

Bob’s known to point out them pesky story problems.  It’s all part of a process.

THE 80′S… neon wetsuits and Winchell’s doughnuts. Waxing your Timpone, Hayward, or Burke on the sidewalk.  The mixed smell of damp alsphalt, low tide and fast food garbage. Oingo Boingo seeping, “ONLY A LAD…” from a car stereo.  I was such a scrawny little grom.

I would paddle out southside at the Huntington Beach Pier.  The plan was to sit with the rippers and watch them go.  Then I’d snatch the leftovers on the inside, copying what I saw.  That’s how you learned.

On the ultra-early mornings this rare stunt would develop.  A few dawn patrolers would use the lingering cover of night, slip over the rail and jump off the pier, skipping the paddle out all together.  Everyone in the lineup would hoot, and throw those ear piercing whistles you hear at concerts or ball games.  It was rad.

Sometimes the lifeguards would call the cops.  Sometimes they pretended not to see anything.  It all depended on who you were.  The fine was something like $100 + a court date.  You know, public safety.  Whatever cops.  Getting away with a pier jump had to be the best.