Montana

In May of this year I finally made it to Montana--Big Sky Country. My buddy Tim has lived there for over a decade and has extended an invitation to me since he arrived. We always talked about doing an epic skate/camping trip, but I could never make it. Jobs, girlfriends, and various debilitating injuries kept the idea for the trip just that--an idea, like many others, unfulfilled and on the shelf until further notice. Well when I found myself living in Seattle, I said fuck it.

My girlfriend let me borrow her car for five days or so and after watching the Red Sox lose to the Mariners at SafeCo Field, I went home for some sleep and woke up, a little hungover, around 1am, made coffee and hit the road. I drove into the night, through the Wenatchee Pass, and hit Spokane, WA around 5am. Got out to skate Spokane's park and found some lurker/partyer/skater dudes sleeping in the middle of the deep end! I almost carved into their sleeping bag-covered heads! They basically had no choice but to get up and skate with me for an hour or so. It was a weird session but Spokane was sick and after bidding my farewells I peaced out and headed for Deer Lodge, MT, where I would meet Tim and his crew of skate droogs he had assembled for the camp/skate trip.


I made it to Deer Lodge by about Noon. I almost ran out of gas in the desert heat with no prospect of a gas station for fifty miles. Cruised in on 100mph cruise control fumes to meet up with Tim, Jed and Chad, three rippers from the Big Sky/Bozeman skate/snow community. Shakas, bro! One of their other homies ran the local A&W, so we were treated to some cheeseburgers and root beers before we hit the road. You gotta get a root beer if yer at A&W by the way...

One of the "weed men" on the trip, Jed was our fearless leader. His extensive knowledge of Eastern, MT due to his experience selling lemonade to Indians, was invaluable. Jed drove us all over in his Suburban (which was also my "tent"), drank beers and whiskey and always had a hilarious story to tell. Awesome dude with a kick ass attitude and skate/party ethic, Jed also treated us to Smashmouth and Cher technopop tunes at full volume as we rolled into Whitefish skatepark.



Chad had a unique style and was very interested in the architecture that each individual park we went to had to offer. He was psyched the whole time, down to wait out the rain and when he turned it on he ripped like a demon. Over here he's carving the helmet thingy at Polson. You had to go through this gnarly deer crossing to get to the helmet, so it was real impressive to carve it out with speed and style and make it back out into the main part of the bowl.

I was there, too. Tim Cowie took this photo at St. Ignatius and made it pretty in photoshop. St. Ignatius was probably the collective favorite park of our group. We went there twice and stayed there for like five hours each time. It's on an Indian Reservation and while we were there it was pretty much deserted. You're not supposed to drink there. There was this baby in diapers with a kool aid mustache. The locals said his family got drunk all day and just let him run around the skatepark by himself in his diapers. "Who's fucking baby is this?", we kept wondering.





Tim Cowie set the whole trip up. He planned the route, assembled the crew and skated harder and faster than anybody. He was definitely the premiere bowlsman in our crew and he kept his fists clenched the whole time. POWERFIST. When we were kids Tim told me that his ancient Cowie clan in Scotland used to come out of the woods and fuck shit up on villages with the torches and the ruthless pillaging and whatnot. Out Of The Woods!

The days blew by like spinning polyurethane wheels and gusts of smoke, and after heading back to Big Sky for a few days of downtime, skating the mini ramp there and wrecking 1800 dollar mountain bikes, it was time to head back to Seattle. BALLS!

It's Been Too Goddamn Long

My friend Jonh joked with me that my blog is a "Semi quarterly." Fuckin A. It's been too goddamn long. I haven't felt compelled to write much besides lyrics in sometime. Truth be told, I actually forgot the password to my blog account. What a goon! Anyway, I'm sitting here and thinking about how by not writing I'm blowing it. So I wanted to put this up an get back on the horse.

Above High Society

What I'm doing is fulfilling dreams and fantasies. Not long ago I jammed with my friends Brian and Jonh. We're working overtime on resurrecting me and brian's old band shakin michael j out here in Seattle, and we're having a bunch of fun doing it. Jonh's been playing bass...we're practicing some of our older tunes (J Classics if you will, and you will, mutherfucker) as well as writing some new ones. I could shit myself I'm so happy. While we were recently playing, at one point, I found myself dicking around playing bass with brian on drums and jonh on guitar. We were jamming on some art fag introspective indie rock type shit, mostly due to my lack of prowess and creativity as a bassman. I'd love to rip like Matt Freeman but my shityness only allows me to play more like a bad, paled Kim Deal. (I love Kim Deal so don't be trippin, I'm just makin a point here) Anyway I was stoked to be playing bass in some grungy space in Seattle--a fourteen year old dream realized.

The next night we went to see Brian's other band, The Chandelears play at this place called the FunHouse. The FunHouse received "best punk rock club of 2007" from some magazine out here, if you wanna know. I read it on a plaque on the wall. Punk Points.
But the place was rad. They had two dollar jello shots which friends of mine were abusing, stoking and bumming out the crew all at once. They also had a pool table where games were only fifty cents apiece. I couldn't believe! So Jonh and I played Brian and Jamie (it was a couple vs. a couple of scumbags.) Me and Jonh lost. The whole game sucked cause most people were more interested in talking to each other and checking out the live music than playing pool, myself included. Jonh eventually scratched on the eight ball and the scumbags lost.

Eventually the Chandelears played around 11pm and they were sick. They played as a three piece, without their female vocalist who is on a gnarly trip to peru or something. The band's singer Douglas rips on vox and git and I liked them live. Brian's no slouch on the bass and the new drummer, Nick was tight as fuck as well. If Nick plays his cards right he will be playing drums for the J real soon. Seattle should duck and cover...

Without Dani, the Chandelears missing female vocalist, the band's material was cut down to only around seven songs. One of the new songs they played sounded like New York Hardcore with breakdowns and stuff so I threw down some east coast moves, even though the chandelears aren't necessarily a punk band but what the fuck y'know, do what feels right. Jonh rocked the fuck out to every song, knew all the words and even got it goin on with a little bump and grind dancin with a female Chandelears fan. So I went outside to smoke a bat and when I came back the band was playing its last (seventh)song. I wasn't hatin cause I'm friends with the dudes in the band, but I was pissed at myself for going outside, and I wanted a longer set. I'm sure that will come with time and especially with the return of Dani, their other singer.



Outside at the FunHouse there's a basketball court that is illuminated by the lights from the world famous Seattle Space Needle. I went out there and told some stranger to pass me the rock, expecting him not to, but he did and I proceeded to fire off an air ball before smoking some weed and going back inside. The scene was just beautiful, man. In New York and Boston and (i guess?) Burlington, "punk rock" bars that I have been to have been dripping with pretension and holy-than-thou snobbishness. Out here these fools had the vibe goin pretty good. I can't wait to play some shows out here and take advantage of the mellow and receptive vibe. They'll be sorry...










We've been working like dogs burning and stamping abomination nation compilations. Look for yers in the mail and if you didn't get one get in contact with me and join the Minion Mailing List. Say Werd...

Barack Obama's Not Here To Save You

I don't have any new photos. Well actually I got a couple but they really ain't shit and that's not why i feel like posting right now...photos. Let Adam Amengual (http://wanderingwayfarer.blogspot.com/) post up the heady photos, I got some shit I gotta get off my chest.

Right now, as I write this it is 12:28 AM on January 20, 2009...Finally. I'm not one of those people who considers midnight to be the next day, like my friend Jonh Schwartz aka Sgt. Semantics, aka Shakin' Not A Jew. Anyway, I'm kind of loosey goosey with the semantic thing--unless it serves myzelf to be otherwise. But I fucking digress...

All I wanna say is that Bush is done. It's been such a long, shitty eight years, politically speaking. I feel that I personally, as a citizen of the United States of America and above all the world, have aged dramatically and violently during George Bush's presidency. Sure, everyone feels like that during every presidential term--it's called time, duh! But this is different and I feel you might agree. It's been a hurtful time for a lot of us, beyond our family and friends, for the country at large--but we are all connected to each other in this country and world and we have been wounded. This is not news to anyone and I don't really have anything that profound to say, I'm just happy for all of us who have had some semblance of positive growth and joy over these last eight years. Hoorah for us.

I'm not a Barack Obama nut and I voted for him because he is black. Of course I did. What we don't need is another aging white man from Washington DC in the White House. I have always said that I would vote for a black president, on principle, long before I heard the name Barack Obama uttered. I want to vote the farthest thing away from old white men as possible. I want my president to be a member of as many minority groups as possible. Give me the blackest, womanest, cripplest, gayest candidate you've got. Does this make me a bigot? Possibly, but I do recognize the ridiculousness of what I've just said. It's about the right man for the job, right? Maybe I'm a hippy but I deal with people based on the vibes they're giving me, not what they'd like me to see. I like Obama's vibe, but I am cautiously optimistic in that I don't think that he has all the answers to our problems, and he certainly does not have them just because he's black. Barack Obama is a politician, and is putting his best face forward, sure, but somehow I feel like this guy has the potential to be different from some of the other presidents I've seen (I'm only 28).

That being said, trust no politician, regardless of their winning smile and what minority groups they belong to. We need to save ourselves and save each other. These politicians aren't going to do shit for us that won't somehow benefit themselves, keep that in mind. I understand and respect the fervor and excitement of a new year culminating with the last days of the worst presidency ever and the promise of a new African American president taking the reigns, the day after Martin Luther King to boot! I'm just as excited as anyone, but I still don't really give a fuck about what these crooked politicians are up to. Racism is a problem, but classism is a plague. Barack Obama's not here to save you. We as a country have achieved a social victory, not a political one.







Next post will be about me and my dumb friends getting drunk and making music, promise.
-YMJ
"FNA"

Transitions (Abomination Nation Compilation Out Now!!!)

Yo! I live in Seattle now, fool! This place is pretty tight, lemmetellya. Well I've only been here for two days or something but I visited here last year and it was rad then and it's still rad now. Radder, I'd say.

After Christmas, I stayed at Changas like I do. Chad's a Rank 6 now. You betta ax somebody. Exackly...


Anyway, I logged some hours on Chad's sofa just layin there watchin MASH and before I knew what the fuck was happening, it was time to up and move to Seattle. I'm on some total new shit and I'm psyched.

Before I left though, all the tight homies (with exceptions of those who couldn't attend for various unfortunate reasons) got together and we had ourselves a hanksy's last supper. What the hell? Who knows when I'll see these fools again, and honestly, they're my heart. So it was really cool to go to the Black Cow and goof around with these assholes for what seemed like, "one last time," but I know that could never be true.

So the next day Bradley Michael J picks me up at Changas and we roll to Logan after making a stop for Petrol and another for beef, right on the way outta town. Jr. Beefmaster always says goodbye to everybody on the way out, as he did to us the other day. I like to let people know what's what so I told him I was on my way to the airport and wouldn't see him for awhile. "No beef in Seattle", he replied. Fuckinay. When I fly back home to Boston who knows when, my aim is to get Beef before even going to my parents home.

En route to the airport, we were well ahead of schedule and who likes waiting around in airports when they could be goofing around smoking weed with their homies? So we wheel over to Newbury Comics to get a Thrasher. It takes six weeks to get yer Thrashers after you change your address. (Ask Adam Amengual about it.)

So anyway, anyway, I get the Thrasher I'm missing at Newbury Comics and the fucking Space Needle's on the cover. Fucking Sign dude, Seattle. () Right after I got the call for the interview at ESPN Brad and I were driving around with his ipod on shuffle, discussing what it would be like if I moved to New York City and Andrew WK's "I Love New York City" came up on the shuffle out of some twelve thousand songs on the pod. Trippy, Bro.

So I ate a pill, felt hella calm and rolled the fuck out of Boston. I had a Jack and Coke and slept the entirety of the flight. I awoke in Seattle and within the hour I was smoking headies with the Hitta while listening to a pressed copy of the Abomination Nation Compilaton, Abomination Nation Records Release #668. I was beyond-o stoked, and you can be to. Hit us up for a copy: You can get the Shakin Michael J and Chandelears shit too, if you don't already have em. Just communicate with us and we'll send it out. Stay tuned.

Seattle's gonna be fun...