Click the sidebar or here for a new picture board called “Cherry” and hit play.

Longtime source of inspiration, Texas photographer and painter Alexandra Valenti, recently combined her two talents in this beautiful water color and water photo series. Shot at an Austin Texas swimming hole for an upcoming look book for jeweler Leslie Crow. Having just had a weeklong life-affirming spring time Texas jaunt, these pictures came at the perfect time. Thank you, Alexandra.

Afar Magazine reached out to ask me about my favorite haunts, shops, escapes and souvenirs. Have a look in the latest issue or read here. Many hanks to the kind folks at Afar.

Someone made sure I saw Bobby Furst’s place before leaving JT. That wild guy with top hat and monocle at the Hornito’s Cantina on New Years Eve? Well, he’s an outsider artist. A Political folk artist of sorts. He moved out to the high desert 6 or 7 years ago after years in Laurel Canyon. He built up a couple quonset huts and kept on assembling and arranging the artwork he’s been making in LA out of found objects, other peoples junk. Bobby has a million things in those spaces, some turned into ideas, some on their way, but all things perfectly, meticulously arranged.  He was nice to give us a bright and early tour of his compound, not far from the JT park entrance. I encourage you to stop by next time your around that region of California. Click here for The Road to Wonder Valley trailer, a documentary on the artists who call that high desert home.

John Martin from Vice wrote me and said that if put up his most recent video project he would take me on the next wild Vice travel trip. I was thinking ‘Shit, how do I get out of posting some video that’s probably him lip syncing, dreaming he’s Mick Jagger again?’ Then I clicked the link and found this gem – John and crew traveled 4 days just to reach the far stretches of Patagonia where they interviewed a man who has lived off the grid on his land for almost 50 years in imposed self isolation – one of the last great South American Cowboys.  Have a look (sorry about the ad opener, folks). John, I’m ready with my miles number. Say when.

Rene, George, Ginger and myself rode out for a last minute new years eve jaunt to JT. Justin Lowe recommended this place, a new and much needed desert hub, the Mojave Sands. Checked in, started an own outdoor fire and checked out. Blake, the owner, spent 9 years renovating this place, and now his labor of love is open, going on 6 months now. Not recommended for the high maintenance traveler. My type of place. Thanks Blake.

I clicked both boots on the edge of the rail again as if I still had anything on them, just out of habit at that point, and thought about what song I would play right now if I had any juice left in my phone. It was cold outside, staring at my breath as if it were cigarette smoke, just waiting on word from the man on the train that we should get back on, and that we would finally be on our way. Dave Mason – We Just Disagree or maybe TK Webb – The Spade…. Out there it was golden white rolling hills that folded into one another and that short brush, destined to be tumbleweeds come late summer, freckled the face of the terrain. I daydreamed about how it would be if I had saved for a sleeper car. I could drink cheap beer and teach that wide eyed Amish kid I met in the seat in front of me how to play Texas hold ‘em, at least long enough to figure out why a nice old world religion family was headed to Mexico. I bet up there that goddamn conductor would find me a goddamn phone charger. But I guess this wasn’t something I could plan for. If I were back home on that tree covered hillside in lonely north east San Francisco waiting by the fire for her to come home I’d play the Rolling fucking stones, really goddamn loud so that I wouldn’t even hear her clomping up those old wooden steps. I’d just sing along “what a beautiful buuuuuzzzz” as she stumbled in, and I would be surprised to see her and happy as a clam in high water.

Its been 15 years since the release of this documentary on DCs  sassiest as they toured and preached the “Gospel Yeh-Yeh” while seeking political and style asylum. Here its is, still ahead of its time and well worth the watch, The Make Up’s Blue is Beautiful in four easy pieces. In the words of Ian Svenious, I wish I was an octopus and could reach all of you.

I got a made to measure suit from Freeman’s Sporting Club new(ish) western outpost in San Francisco. Read about my experience here on GQ.com.