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Woke up to Devendra Banhart and his tiny bed around 1pm. We rolled around for a little until he asked if I'd like for some coffee and a long drive. This came as a surprise to me since we haven't spent a day together since November so I smiled and said I would love it. He took a quick shower, I threw Lou Reed on the record player and read a few pages of One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest. When he returned, I took a picture of his bare ass with my phone as he boiled some water at the stove. The sound of a beer cracking under his fingers stole my attention and I laughed as he sipped and smiled and continued to the painting he had been working on for the past month or so. Footage of the earthquake in Chile was rolling on the tube and the anticipation of a tsunami wreaked havoc on every news station across the globe. I poured myself a glass of wine and accepted the same images that sparked my heart to beat too fast the night before. If this earthquake were just to be the first of a million more natural disasters, what were we to do? We were beneath the unforgiving grip of Mother Nature. So he took a rip from the bong holding it in as he effortlessly pumped out nineteen pushups, exhaling on the twentieth. Shortly after, we went for a drive through the mansions of a town far nicer than our decrepit troy city. He sang me songs driving close to 5 miles per hour & we watched the sunset through the windows of a bar over the water. Me with my vodka and pineapple, him with a fine ale and some house soup.