I don’t usually have violent thoughts. But this changed when it came to you. I’ve had my fantasies. One particularly desperate night (with a job interview the next morning) I seriously considered throwing Chinese firecrackers into your construction site.
Sometimes I wish everything could go a little more smoothly. Cracking a glance at my visage in the mirror this morning, I feel the sudden urge to cover myself in khaki and pull out a chisel while simultaneously wiping my brow and staring at the sun.
When a woman was asked to leave a store, she became angry and started throwing beer bottles on the floor. She then stood in the corner screaming that “Jesus got her pregnant and she wanted [it] out of her so she could it eat it.”
Colbie Caillat seems more like your sister than a singing sensation. The sunny, down-to-earth demeanor reflected in her music shines through the phone line across the Atlantic.
For Caillat, she says hasn’t really experienced the “celebrity” aspect of musicianship, and fame is still relatively new to her.
“I’m not used to it, for the most part.” And, like any true artist, she is dedicated to her craft and doesn’t concern herself with the spotlight. “I’m always touring.”
Don Inman remembers flexing his muscles in his front yard to show off his first tattoo. He was just 4 years old. It was 1937, still in the midst of the Great Depression, during a time when only sailors and strippers had ink.
Saying goodbye isn't easy, but it's an important part of life. We explore the Bay Area's evolving relationship with the end of life, from Boomer care and Death with Dignity to the "death midwives" movement.