More Ramblings in Marin County

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To Boot: the veritable rainbow of shoes outside of Bella’s house in the Tomales light.

“The Model was six feet tall and her skin was the color of an eggplant. When she spoke, the windows shook. She was a mountain of a woman…”

Inside a paint-strewn studio in Point Reyes, a small group of people with oversized sketchbooks clusters around a glass-covered counter that where it is not empty is stacked with odd-sized books of all colors. A woman, nude, sits still in front of them. She is not six feet tall, her skin is the color of an eggshell, and her voice is low and measured. Her eyes half closed, she rests the weight of her body on one arm. One of the drawers, Marina, the artist woman of Petaluma with her long gray hair gathered into a tight round bun at the very top of her head, fondly looks back on her first experience in a life drawing class as a fourteen year-old-girl. “The model was six feet tall…”

And so was my own first experience in a life-drawing class.

As five o’clock on Thursday inched nearer, I sat in the hallway of the second floor of Leconte hall, desperately trying to massage the transmission coefficient for particles shot at a dirac-function well out of some admittedly fuzzy math. Doing physics from 9 AM to 5 Pm really takes a toll on one’s mental health. As soon as I developed some sort of answer, I turned in the assignment with the fled the scene.

I meant to flee the scene, in a very real sense of the word. I rushed home, packed a backpack and some drawing materials, and jumped into my car with every intention of Making it to Point Reyes in an hour for the Life drawing class which my friend and former roommate (who is headed to Germany in three days!) had invited me to. Full of the happiness that only comes from knowing that I was done with physics from 24 hours at least, I stuck my key in the ignition. Nothing happened. I looked up at the dome light above my seat. The switch was clicked in the on position. sigh. For a second I considered giving up and staying home. And then I thought to myself: “no way. I didn’t just do physics for eight hours to miss out on life drawing”. Good thing I had jumper cables.

I asked one of my house-mates to give me a jump, and she willingly agreed (thanks again!) With the unsolicited but appreciated help of the homeless man who lives in the garage of the co-op next door, we got my car started and I drove off. The ride there was an adventure in itself: traffic, a wrong turn, and open driver-side door at 60 mph, and winding through the forest along Sir Francis Drake Blvd.

Fleeing scene, no matter how much of a hassle it was, proved to be worth it. Life drawing was sort of surreal. Being in that studio was sort of like seeing the seeing the world from underwater: for some reason it gave me a feeling of looking at something familiar from a vantage that is unfamiliar and therefore makes everything you see somehow just a bit more interesting, terrible, fantastic, and bearable.

IMG_2852The next morning Bella an I walked downtown to watch the first mountain stage of the Tour streaming online using the Deli’s free WiFi. As you can see, I couldn’t resist when I saw that the bakery was selling fresh-baked Moroccan Raisin Rye. The loaf was near-perfect: a sweet, light flavor with a hint of cardamom, a soft chewy interior and a crunchy crust. The race was equally exciting. To find out about that go to the Versus website.

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Although at part of me still wishes I was at the Tour de France, I must say I was glad to spend a weekend in Tomales.

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