Back in Sonoma for a new harvest season
Gentle readers and cherished co-conspirators,
Greetings from Péta Lúuma (Miwok for “backside of the hill”, aka Petaluma) in beautiful Sonoma County California.
This issue of Mortar is the 24th! It is many pictures, some poetry I’ve been working on, a few music blurbs, and personal updates.
Harvest has begun at Hobo and call time has been very early to pick our first grapes. Breakfast the other morning was a cup of coffee, a tortilla chip, and a multivitamin and I’m already washing grape pumice out of my hair. We’ve already bottled over 1,500 cases of wine and been crushing and fermenting pickings of Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Zinfandel, Albariño, Verdelho, Chenin Blanc, Sauvignon Blanc, and Tempranillo. So far it’s been a lot of fun and I really enjoy our team.
Bye, Oakland
I stood on the roof of my apartment one last time the other week drinking up the views of downtown Oakland, distant San Francisco, and the cresting East Bay hills. Small chunks of the enveloping San Francisco fog (AKA Karl) tore free and drifted east, floating low and heavy over Oakland. Their forms were impressive, plump, and beast-like, morphing and reflecting moonlight and skyline with a silvery iridescence. My brain couldn’t perceive the change in real time but by switching between a soft and hard visual focus I could wonder their downy textures and vivid developments of their mass like a caravan of doofy trodding elephants.
I’m not sure how to feel about my time in Oakland. It was embellished with new friendships, adventure, and personal discoveries. No one could tell me I didn’t go for it. It was an important time but also strange, chaotic, and sometimes shitty and isolating. Now, away from the city yet again, even in the midst of this crazy new harvest season, I feel like I can breathe a little fuller, sleep a little deeper, listen a little closer, and feel like more of a complete person.
Santa Cruz
Crossover
Roaming through sunny Sunday afternoon living rooms like a lazy tracking shot, the intro of “Crossover”, by Australian RnB messengers Emma Donovan & The Putbacks, blooms with the fresh joy of 60s Motown, and the hip steaze of early aughts neo-soul. Rich harmonies support the warm and twisting vocals, building patiently over rock steady drum beats and the antiphonal chimes of backing vocals and crispy clean rhythm guitar. The real decadence arrives with the outro as the backing singers pick up echos of Donovan’s message and surf it over honey-sweet shifting jazz changes clipping along to tambourine driven vamps and glowing electric keyboard. Bittersweet, smooth, and cathartic.
New York City, Philadelphia, New Jersey
Some Poems
Beacon
brought to edges lined green first to go on big leap filling eyes with sound so clustered, to weep pining there to find in linen sheets so hair laid long locked not one crease tore away, brought in, said bye, crossed bay heathered purples spoke between night and crisp gray picture felt cold and the idea strange take all the pieces, might wander away Keep near, some warmth in true arms don’t stay
😏
why pay rent when you can live in sin?
Saving Wasps
I saved a wasp from the pool today I’d like to think that every time I rescue one I save myself a sting later Today I was stung by 457,000 wasps Guess I need to save more wasps
Hep Kings
I found a deer under a tree The deer was a buck and the tree was an oak growing between my house and the shed His head nestled awkwardly Antlers pierced the dirt A tiny trail of blood dripped from his nose and pooled on the ground below I stood there in the doorway in slippers eating a bowl of cereal, observing a death an animal now an object a life now a picture "I'm sorry about what happened to you You are a beautiful creature and you are at rest now" I laid a few flowers on the bucks' head Flies walked across his open eyes
Waveforms
rhyme is rhythm is time put in my shoes, well soul's worn thin sweat shirt is yours wind reaching for without. begin all over again
Baltimore-born, L.A-based artist Dijon Duenas’ heaving biotic RnB-hued pop mantras have become my latest musical obsession. His 2021 debut album Absolutely is as intimate, sultry, and passionate as any 80s slow jam and hurtles through dazzling zany musical improvisation like a sonic pinball. I keep returning to “The Dress,” in particular, for its sense of longing diffused through amorous plainclothes poetry, nostalgic e-piano colorings, and laid-back and spacious mood encouraging you to sing along and get lost in the feeling.
Thanks for reading, y’all. I really love the correspondence I have with you all and the connection this generates. I really appreciate you reading this and staying in touch. Let me know if you’d like additional words via postcard. I love sending snail mail and while all this moving and change is becoming nothing new to me, it can be lonely and I love the continued conversation and connection.
Until next time,
Cody