Alan Rifkin@Fingerprints

A new video has been posted to 

the District's Web site.

The author of Alt. Country, Alan Rifkin, read pieces 

from his book. 

His musician friends played songs 

mostly written for the text. 

Check it out.

Fourth of July

An all-American extravaganza. 

The day our forefathers turned traitors. 

The day I rode a bike so far I couldn't get properly drunk.

We started around noon, and by we I mean the Dish, Greg, Rob and I. 

We headed into Naples curious whether or not water 

fights would be in full swing.

Yep.

The funniest part of this tradition is watching the uninformed 

people react to strangers and their watery violence. 

They stare, confused because everyone else around them 

seems to be enjoying themselves.

After a few beers we stopped at Taco Surf to have more.

Then we were off to a house near the 405 and Palo Verde Avenue. The ride there proved fun, but the ride back... not so fun.

Micah jammed with some of his buddies, and Greg jumped in. 

Later, I did the same.

The night was fun. I didn't see many fireworks, but I was surrounded 

by good people and a lot of booze. 

Good enough for me.

Yurt So Good

Published in the District on July 1.

Adjectives used to describe camping usually fall somewhere in between gnarly and pleasant, but camping is rarely considered fabulous. Gnarly camping is learning to dig holes to crap in, lest a friend’s dog runs away with your steamy treat in its mouth. Meanwhile, a pleasant camping trip involves things like tolerable people, healthy fires and endless supplies of cheap red wine. But fabulous camping blurs the line separating a fancy resort and a cold plot of dirt.

Big Sur is home to the epitome of fabulous camping, Treebones.

The first thing you’ll notice at Treebones is the ocean—the view is reason enough alone to come—but it’s the 16 yurts resting in the shadows of Monterey Cypress and Monterey Pine trees that truly make this place unique.

Defined on its Web site (treebonesresort.com) as tent-like circular fabric structures with wooden lattice frames, standing inside a yurt isn’t too different from being in your studio apartment—minus the kitchen and bathroom. In fact, the only aspect of a yurt that is tentlike is the thin piece of cloth separating you from, well, everything else. Otherwise, it’s a backhouse.

If the price for a yurt is too high (rates range from $155 to $230 per night for two people), there are five ocean-view campsites scattered throughout the property for $65 per night—but there’s a strict two-night minimum and a two-person limit to each site. Treebones also provides a two-person guesthouse, but last on its list of places to hide out is the Nest, a surreal tree house deserving of its own Danny Elfman score—and only big enough to fit two adults with sleeping bags. (It also comes with a campsite.)

Catering to old souls and modern hippies, Treebones recalls a time that predates our modern Tweets and Pokes. Here, you can enjoy a free breakfast and comfortably strike up a conversation with a stranger—it’s all part of a heightened sense of community, and you get that this was the intent of owners (and Long Beach residents) Corinne and John Handy back when they opened Treebones in the fall of 2004.

At Treebones, the Handys have succeeded in creating a kind of utopian society perched on a hill, where the only way to fully experience the atmosphere is to open up and be civil. (For the shy types in need of social lubrication, beer and wine are offered in the main lodge, but campers are also allowed to bring their own stuff.) And indeed, even the layout of this 10-acre parcel seems situated to bring people together, with one of the best views of the ocean to be found at the main lodge’s patio. Additionally, although some yurts are equipped with a gas-burning fireplace and others have a small heater, the main lodge also houses the best fire, and it’s joined by a small but inviting heated pool and hot tub, perfect venues for sharing stories about your life and travels.

Still, there’s solitude to be found in the wilderness as well—especially if you lazily roam the property late in the evening, sipping from a wine bottle and gazing up into a sea of stars.