Taking the time out to reminisce upon an hour that has since passed feels like a relief while surrounded by some of life’s largest decisions. This day (the day the photographs were taken) was like today, a brake in the motion of my modern world. I was between so many new elements it never really felt as though I had a minute to step outside all of what was changing to appreciate the changes. While some of these feelings have long since fled, I remember very well what it was to feel them.
Let’s take a minute, together and use these images for one of photography’s most integral purposes — to remember.
We were somewhere in Newport and had arrived in the hours of the morning that most still consider night. My friend Kayla and I pulled up to a house too close to the beach for either of us to be completely certain of. We arrived to sleep.
I initially crept from a bed I didn’t remember sleeping in. I wasn’t sure how I ended up there, but the air was crisp, the sheets were soft, the bed was warm and I was glad to be there. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere.
Too intimidated by the idea of free roaming in someone else’s home, I refrained from my search for a restroom and instead went to stretch my legs in a room I couldn’t be mistaken about “being allowed in.” This isn’t to say our host wasn’t plenty friendly or accommodating, he was and I’m sure wouldn’t mind me making my way through doors till I found a restroom, but I don’t care if your Fred-Fucking-Rogers, it feels nothing short of impolite for me to make my own way through your home unless I’ve been there a minimum of five times or have been explicitly told to find things my own damn self.
I studied the table for a moment and considered how many well felt conversations must have been exchanged through it. I thought of the minds relieved to be away from what I only knew to identify as “real life.”
I was rejoined with my longtime friend Kayla, host Jordan and his canine companion Jaxx — all asleep. Jordan awoke to the sound of my shutter; Kayla to the sound of Jordan and I blabbering over how each of us slept. I spoke with the two for a while until introduced to Jordan’s father, whom I would never learn to address by any other name. It was more clearly explained that the house we were residing in was the second of two homes left to Jordan’s dad by a family friend which were often rented to vacationers. We spoke of many things that, in my memory, are overridden by my body having been a massive sandbag filled with grains of drowsiness, but I do recall feeling I was in good company. I returned to sleep in a nearby rocking chair.
In the sequel to my waking, Jordan and Kayla were both gone, Jordan’s father and Jaxx remained on the couch, where I’d last seen them, watching tv. I went out for a walk to a nearby coffee shop located just a couple hundred feet away from our residence, which looked out upon the docks that bordered the housing complex we were a part of. Jordan had recommended the place. The barista matched a description I had been given of an attractive, hip, young woman who was a delightful conversationalist. I mentioned how I may have heard of her and was also friends with Jordan. With my order came an explanation that I was very tired and had duties to tend to throughout the day and she offered to load my iced coffee with six shots of espresso for only two bucks more. At the time, I was downing over the considered safe daily amount of caffeine was (400mg; that’s about four cups), at home (I would chug five cups like this shit was water, no wonder I had trouble relaxing). Let’s do a little thinking now that we have our magical retrospective glasses on, a shot of espresso, on average, has about 64mg of caffeine in it — that means my one drink had nearly the whole recommended maximum daily amount of caffeine in it and that’s not even considering the base of coffee that came along with my cup of cardiac arrest. Naively, I offered a “yeah, thanks” and wandered off with my iced nuclear mistake.
We all reconvened back on the front porch of the house and quickly sped off to Redlands, as I had a theater performance to be a part of.
Antony Wilding had been late for his call time (which I am still ashamed of) to get away for an “Enchanted April.” My body was tired, I felt dizzy and looked like utter shit, despite the pleasant morning. I had been nearly poisoned with the level of caffeine and I’m still surprised the first words I uttered on stage didn’t come with complimentary projectile lunch for the audience. Several friends were expecting to surprise me in the audience and I’m still unsure about if I’d have felt more dignified or not about getting the jump on them with said surprising by vomiting on them or strangers. Thankfully, I got through the show alright.
And here they are: a group of magical individuals I had met merely two months prior and to my unforeseen delight, they all showed up to support me — the Regal Crown Club, as I re-coined the phrase. These folks have been some of the most thoughtful, sincere, compassionate individuals I have ever met and as one would experience a vein of rare earthly elements, I was lucky to find them all in one place.
We all went out to eat at a small local place, Cheesewalla, where you could order a glazed donut with cheddar cheese on it, not your cup, you say? how about peanut butter cream cheese and grape preserve on sourdough? Still a no? Something a little more towards traditional then - cheddar, pepper jack, jalapeño cream cheese, roasted jalapeño, on bacon on jalapeño cheese bread — you get it, a hipster joint that sells grilled cheese and what sounds like half baked, unthinkable variations of a classic, but I must say, are goddamn delicious.
My good buddy J (his name is actually J — just “J”, the letter “J” — over a year now and I still think it’s bad-ass), dashing as ever, never failing to entertain my infant like sense of humor with what I like to call “The De Niro.”
We walked about Redlands for a bit, looking every which way for matters to indulge in, until we came across the backside of a shop. I asked J to have a seat on the ground so I may take his picture. I am particularly proud of the image above. Much of our group broke off as they had other plans to run off to.
The group whittled back down to the original two members my day had begun with and our friend Luke, who preferred that his picture not be taken. We all sat and lost ourselves in conversation for an hour or two.
That seemed to be the day. One that came like all others, to go.
