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Wednesday, May 29, 2013

An Afternoon At Golden Gardens

Thought this was a great idea at the time
Notice the "No Skateboarding" sign. What the fuck are they worried about? Snack bar lake sessions...
Just one receptacle from one afternoon at Golden Gardens. Going green meets Not Giving a Fuck
Lucky to snap this just as the sun went behind the Olympics

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

The Driving Dead

It's You And It's Me Against An Army Of Zombies


Took this photo at Wal Mart of all places. Amreican culture fascinates and sickens me. I consider this photo a significant sign of the times #1 becuase it was taken in a Wal Mart parking lot #2 because of the epicly terrible parking job and #3 because of the decals on each of these vehicles.
The one on the left is one of those "family" decals. You know, the mom, dad, kids and cat or whatever. Everyone's hyped on breeding I guess. Right next to it is a "zombie family" decal.
It seems like we as a culture have become obsessed with zombies. Which is ironic because the first popular zombie films were statements on consumer culture. But that shit is lost. Here in Seattle we have an annual zombie parade where regular folks dress up like zombies and walk around as they spend money on food and beer. Brains!
Don't get me wrong. I love The Walking Dead as much as the next victim, but I think reflection is sometimes called for. The society grows more and more violent and what was once reserved for the underground Troma set has been brought to the masses, with acceptance. I can't be the only one who thinks that when it is commonplace to watch (and fantasize about?) the undead eating the flesh off of someone's face, there may be a sickness in our culture.
As I type this I listen to Slayer. Zombies, Metal, etc. used to be underground because only a certain type of person could really stomach exposing themselves to these things on a regular basis. Now it is banality. Gangsta rap, violence and face eating have become the norm. Fifty years ago Football and Ice Hockey were considered violent. Now football is the new religion in this country and the UFC is the cream of the violently athletic crop.
Maybe I'm a gentle hippy. Or maybe you've been bitten...

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Neo Northgate

Made it to one of those weird Japanese conveyor belt restaurants the other night. Maybe you're familiar with this. I was not. It kind of blew my mind, like most things do I guess (lucky me!). Anyway I had to document the scene. Basically all kinds of food cruises by and you take what you want and get charged for it at the end. I don't really know how they keep track. It was remarked that the situation harkened to one of my favorite films, Cloud Atlas. Yup. What a world.


Birth Yourself

Kindred Spirits
Cinco de Mayo, I went to check out Court's booth at the Fremont market/taco rodeo event. That's when I met her. Marcy Moonstar. Court had met her before, about a year previous. He remembered her and asked her how come she wasn't wearing purple. He did give her a bit of an out: "You were just feeling some different cosmic vibes other than purple today?", he presented.
"Yes, exactly.", she agreed.
I was introduced and we were certainly vibing. I took a photo of she and court and then she had me take a selfie of her. We talked about blogs and art therapy. She said she wanted to teach a class. I told her about my friend Alyssa, an art therapist. She gave me a paper copy of a rap she had written. She said she wanted to bust into the hip hop game and rapped me her poem. She said she could detect my hip hop vibes. She made me promise that when I saw Alyssa I would rap the poem unto her. I did later that day and that's what happened.
Birth Yourself.

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

Your Move, Seattle

Monday, May 20, 2013

Skatepark De-volution

It's been over a year since Inner Space indoor skatepark closed its doors. It seems like an unfortunate trend in skateboarding that privately owned indoor parks don't stick around too long. The Skate Barn in Renton shut down a few months before Inner Space and while BISP has been holding it down strong for Seattle indoor skateboarding and The Garage has recently opened in Everet, it sure was nice to have an indoor park within the city limits.
I read/heard a statistic one time about ski resorts--that they start losing money the day the open. It was described that running a ski resort is essentially a hobby for rich dudes, until they get bored and pass the burden onto someone else. I guess running a skatepark is much the same, except skatepark owners aren't usually rich capitalists, but dirtbag skateboarders.
What's been particularly distressing about the closure of Inner Space is the fact that the facility was bought by Evo, a well-to-do snow bro shop with a thinly veiled interest in skateboarding. They sell skate shoes. They sell skate fashions which have been misappropriated by hipsters and popular culture as a whole and they sell longboards, cruisers, and some core skate products too. They talk the talk, but don't necessarily walk the walk (or roll the roll as it were).
I fling these allegations because it was widely known that when Evo purchased the dusty core skatepark as part of their glossy, sexy, fashion-orientated storefront, they made idle promises of preserving and incorporating elements of the skatepark into their business model. It would make sense for them to do so, and I wouldn't be writing this post about their failure to do it, because I support all skateparks whether their shop caters to the frat boy skier/longboard set or not. I skate at Rye Airfield, which is a great park, but also a bit of a razor scooter shop.
No one asks that Evo change their business model or marketing scheme. No one expects them to be some core shop selling only skate hard goods and the rawest skate shit. But they should have made good on giving Seattle skateboarders a place to ride in the rain when they bought, chewed up and spit out the only one we had.
A source close to both Evo and myself admits, "Evo bit off more than they could chew. Skateboarding has historically been the weakest link as far as what they sell. They thought the skatepark would be a way to strengthen that, but it turned out to be not as easy as they thought. Evo is definitely not moving on building a skatepark, for sure."
A visit to Evo and a conversation with an employee verified this. "We were just told (by the company) that we have no definite timeline on it", the young bro nervously informed me.
So it becomes a chicken and the egg scenario. If Evo had built or maintained the park as they were expected to have done when they bought the space, maybe more skateboarders would say, "Oh Evo is actually down for skateboarding, it's not just some yuppie store." But the fact that they have not gone through with the park kind of proves that Evo prioritizes skateboarding as part of an image--an extreme sport whose presence in their store is necessary to help them feel validated and sell more skis and patagonia vests at astronomical prices.
"I thought Inner Space was fantastic. I was pretty ticked when it closed and Evo opened with no park," a local skater told me.
What's even more disheartening is that the Inner Space indoor skatepark sign is still attached to the Evo building, leading consumers to a parking lot, not a skatepark.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Thanks, Homie

#26 Of 50
Just received my copy of Homies by Adam Amengual in the mail. There has been a good bit of buzz about this project on the Internet already, but I thought I'd chirp in a cent or two, particularly because Adam is one of my oldest friends and this here blog was started as a light-hearted tribute to Adam's Blog, the Wandering Wayfarer.
Homies is a collection of portrait photography shot by Adam at Homeboy Industries, an LA-based non-profit that works with former gang members and prisoners in giving them hope for the future and doing something positive with their lives once they leave the past behind. This is certainly an extreme case scenario, as most of us reading and writing blogs aren't directly involved with the pitfalls of gang culture, but I think that the model of Homeboy Industries is applicable to anyone's life: You fucked up in the past, do something positive and move on.
On a photography level, the images are beautifully shot and lighted (I don't know too much about photography but Adam's been doing his thing for a long time and they look very good to me). Some of the more interesting things I found about this book published by Straylight Press were the quotes that Adam was able to extract via interviews with his subjects as well as his insights from an interview with him which concludes the publication, particularly the idea that gang culture has been glorified by the popularity of gangsta rap, popular movies, video games, etc (even toys!). It's real easy to look at these portraits from afar and feel removed and fascinated, like watching National Geographic or visiting a zoo, but Adam's pictures and subsequent interviews help to remind us that we are all human beings born into various scenarios and that our differences are indeed arbitrary.
I don't know how many of these are left but I'm thankful to have a copy, support my friend, and hopefully be able to gain more insight about human beings in America next time I come across a "scary" type of person on the bus or street or whatever. There's a reason why utterances become cliche, mostly because they are at their core, universal truths. And with that, I would like to say "One Love". Thanks, Homie.

Daddy Issues Resolved

Last night I had a dream. It wasn't very dreamlike or abstract. It was pretty easy to remember. You came into my work. You were sitting at table 56. You were with some lady. You probably met her at AA. Half full grapefruit juices and diet Cokes all over the table. I was bartending. The people at the table next to yours were bent out of shape because their burger didn't turn out the way they wanted. I got them a new one, dropped it off then sat down at your table and tried to make small talk with you and your weather-worn-yet-attractive-west-coast-AA-bitch. You couldn't look me in the eye and I called you out for it. I made a scene in my own restaurant. You said you loved me. You said you were 40. You were full of shit. Droopy sad brown eyes. I wasn't expecting that. Thought you'd have eyes like mine. I told you I was 33. "Take it easy, Peter," I said as I walked away. "Robert Hanks is my father." Now I had really made a scene. I walked away from your table. I didn't need a moment to compose myself. I headed back behind the bar and made some drinks for the recooked burger table. It felt good.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Got A Grip Of Great Friends

I have the greatest friends in the world. I know we ALL feel like that and to a degree we're ALL right, but let me tell you some tidbits about why a few of mine are really tight...
I was working one night, the bar was closed, doors were locked, when Chandler Blum and his girlfriend Casey knocked on the front door. I thought they were some overzealous drunks looking for another drop (at least ones I didn't know) and I was about to shoo them away. Boy did I feel like a dick when I unlocked the door, realized it was them and they handed me a skateboard.
"It's for you" they said.
They had won it in a raffle at a Victor Ruggiero show. They are not skateboarders themselves so they wanted to give the board to me! What amazing friends! And the deck is 8.25 which is what I ride so I was pretty happy. It is a tribute deck to fallen soldier/skateboarder/artist/bartender Stevfin Caswell from 35th and North skateshop in Capitol Hill. I didn't know Stevifin, but so much of life on earth is about fraternity and as a bartender and lifelong skater, I feel he was one of my own and I will be proud to represent for him on this board from my friends Chandler and Casey.
It was really good timing too because I needed a new skateboard. I like to have two of them going at the same time. Hard wheel setup for epic northwest crete and soft wheel setup for wooden ramps and such during epic northwest rainstorms. It might sound prima donna or old-man-gear-nerd-poserish but I'm thirty two, have been skating for over twenty years and don't mind spending my hard earned cash on fuckin' product! Plus, I still sate, not just buy the shit and leave it on display in my house. Anyway, it was time for a new ride #2 and the universe aligned to hook up a new one.
Radular griptape job by Court Hoffman
Enter Court Hoffman, good friend, artist and skaterat who has wanted to do a custom griptape job for me for a while. I turned the deck over to him and he did an exquisitely intricate piece of artwork on my new skateboard. I am so impressed by the level of skill and attention to detail. I could never do anything like this. I can barely put a blank sheet of griptape on.
Speaking of griptape, I got the colored grip from Mike Lynch at Gravity Sports in Renton, "the oldest skate and surf shop in the Northwest". Went in for the tape and came out with a new friend in Mike after shooting the shit about skating and life for an hour or so.
So there you have it friends, my friends rule. Life's a trip. Skateboarding and new skateboards are awesome.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Skate And Construct



Talked about it for a long time and with the help of some friends finally got my fun box built. Truth be told I actually didn't do much. I bought the dudes some beer, provided the tunes and a good attitude and bought the lumber and all, plus I guess it was my idea to have a fun box to skate if and when I'm on house arrest. Court was the foreman, Joey (Ballard ripper--don't know the dude's last name) was the master carpenter, and Mark (from Maine, bub) was another helper/enthusiast. Thanks dudes, session's on, always. Here's some documentation...
 

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Man Living In Anarchistic State Toward Internal Excellence

May 3, 2012
I wanna say a little somethin' that's long overdue... I've basically been meaning to write this post for a year. I was driving across country when I got the horrible news of Adam Yauch's death. The night before I was in Chicago and my friend Andrew Comeau was showing me the vinyl copy of Check Your Head he had just acquired. We smoked a bone and listened to both sides before we headed out to get some dinner. I didn't know it at the time but that was the last time I would listen to my favorite band while they were still an active entity. The next day Comeau gave me a text while I was somewhere in Indiana with the bad news. The tears came on quickly and did not stop.
Since I was very young I have always had a strong connection to the music, style and culture of the Beastie Boys. I first heard "fight for your right" when I was about six years old and I have been hooked ever since. In middle school my friends Jeff Strykowski and Nate Bayko(R.I.P.) and I used to walk around our town and recite Beasties lyrics. We were dope. Nate rapped Mike D's parts, I was Adrock and Jeff kicked MCA's rhymes. I remember being so hyped that there were people out there that loved the Beastie Boys as much as I did. I realize now that virtually everyone feels this way (especially now after Yauch has passed there are many who would claim the B-Boys as the Beatles of our pop-culture saturated generation) but my connection to the Beasties was and always has been a guiding light in my life. I once punched a Marine in the face because he said they were no good. I wrote a song about it. I'm not proud and I'm sure MCA would view that action as heinous, but I am proud of my unwavering pride as a loyal fan. But I am more than a Beastie Boys fan. I was and always will be B.E.A.S.T.I.E. The Beastie Boys showed me at a very young age that the coolest thing you can ever be is yourself. Their embracing of all the eclectic musical and cultural surroundings of their environment in New York City, the World and beyond was and is a source of constant inspiration. While I sought to be a part of the Seattle punk scene it was the Beastie Boys that made me unabashedly endorse my hip hop roots. The Beasties and their music kill tunnel vision dead and I want to thank them for that. R.I.P. Yauch, your music, grace, class, style, finesse and debonair have kept me going. I'm dead fucking last, as well as down for life. It's called gratitude, and that's right.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Disc Review

I recently went frolfing for the first time. Frolf is the combination of frisbee and golf. I like when the name of an activity is the cultivation of the other activities it is comprised of. Makes me fell all warm and tingly inside. Anyway frolf is a very popular activity which may be why I turned my nose up at it for so long (I'm so counter culture, bro). But with my new found inner peace and tolerance, which I attribute mostly to reading The Art of Happiness by His Holiness the Dali Lama, I was totally open to giving it a try when my friend C-Lo, a frolfer from way back, invited me to come out with him.
I admit I was skeptical at first. Sure, I've heard time and time again from numerous friends and frolf enthusiasts that frisbee golf is mostly about hanging out with your buds (and beers), but I was a little befuddled when I arrived at the White Center course, or Chainbangers as the little clubhouse thing they have there is known. That's right. There is a clubhouse/pro shop where they sell all kinds of discs of various weights, shapes and sizes for various frolfing scenarios. Attached to the pro shop is a snack bar. I got an espresso and a snickers while Chris purchased some new discs. Duh. I'm a hella snacky dude. Then it was time for me to dive into the frolf scene. There was a real deal tournament going on that day so we made our way quickly to the first hole to avoid holding up the large party that was competing in the tournament. C-Lo knew I would suck at first. He was right. But don't hate, I guess everyone does. I know this because after three or four holes we ended up playing with three dudes and their dog, and they were all like, "yeah, I sucked at first dude. Don't worry you're gonna eventually rule". I don't know if I ever ended up ruling but I certainly got over my initial befuddlement.
My posse's on fairway
Like the time I went golfing with Court, I just couldn't figure out how everyone was so psyched on something that wasn't skateboarding. I know, I know, tunnel vision. Whatever. But also like the time I went golfing, I quickly became obsessed with putting my projectile in the nearby hole (always a good time). And just like it is truly satisfying to smash a golf ball, it is equally satisfying to hear the sound of a chain bang. Not that I truly know first hand.
The only weird thing that really happened was when I did eventually hold up some of the tournament dudes with my first time frolfer suckiness and one of the dudes got kinda aggro, complaining that they had been waiting for me for two holes. The old me would've probably snapped on this guy, but I was cool a s a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce, to quote the late Adam Yauch. I tapped into my compassion fund and moved along, enjoying the game for what it is with my new friends as well as my old one, Chirs. Frolf is supposed to be relaxing--it is the combination of two leisure activities for god's sake! But this one guy had a stick (golf stick?) up his ass and wanted to have his day ruined, so I obliged him, frustrating him even more by simply picking up my disc and opting to cruise to the next hole. What a chump. Word on the street is that the dude is a notoriously bad sport around the Seattle frolfing scene, always throwing temper tantrums and the like. What a herb. Anyway by the end of the gorgeous afternoon I had a better understanding of what C-Lo and others' obsession with disc golf is all about, and I am so down to go again.
So yeah, frisbee golf is actually pretty awesome to me, if you wanted to know. That is all. Carry on, or should I say, play through?

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Influential Hauntings

I grew up in a haunted house. Built in 1774 in Newburyport, Massachusetts my childhood home was kind of spooky. I used to hate watching TV by myself on the third floor, a converted attic that my dad made into a tv room and office space. I always felt like I had to have my back to the wall. If I sat in the middle of the room with my back exposed I felt really weird and didn't like it.
I have alot of stories about weird shit that has occurred in my house but that's not what this post is about. I was very saddened to learn that a good person Chris Moschetto, had passed away yesterday. We weren't super tight by any means. I hadn't talked to him in years but he was somewhat influential to me as a young boy. He was one of the first "cool" kids I came across in elementary school. He was older than me and like me had an affinity for comic books and I don't know if he stuck with it or not, but he was one of the first people I came across in my life that owned a skateboard and who had a genuine and rebellious spirit at a very young age. For whatever reason Chris looked out for me in elementary school. I guess he thought I was cool too.
We lost touch over the years and I know he went through some rough times as we all have relative to our own lives, but Chris had battled some serious demons and bested them and I was happy to see via facebook that he was doing well and had a family. I didn't friend request him or whatever because I wasn't sure if he would remember me or care, but that was lame and I should have because now he's gone. In the last 24 hours or so I've lurked on his facebook page which has been flooded with prayers and good vibes from his family and countless friends. It's not hard to tell that he was a very intelligent and sensitive person. I'm certain he would've remembered me and accepted my cyber friendship. I bet he would've been very interested in my parents' haunted house, as he became a paranormal investigator.
I wanted to post these lyrics I wrote for a Shakin' Michael J song. The first verse was kind of inspired by the house I grew up in. The song got reworked with different lyrics after I left the band, but I was very hyped on it at the time and I didn't want them to fall by the wayside, so in tribute to Chris Moschetto and his tenacity and perseverance with his personal life and E.N.E.M.I., here are the lyrics to "Seen It Comin", as it was once titled. Cheers CJ, thanks for being a true soul.

Anne was a good girl she was fourteen years old Had love for her family always did what she was told
One nite she went upstairs she was looking for her father but he wasn’t there her father never bothered
Her old man was drinkin’ down the docks he was cheating on the family and keeping them on rocks
Sitting on his desk she saw a title with her name it startled her so she dropped her candle with its flame
The room became inferno it was more than she could handle she eyed the open window it all made sense

She saw it coming but she still had to jump

Henry made his money as a hustler and a con he did some evil deeds that he always knew were wrong
One nite he got lit up and he got into a fight and he shot a man dead but it gave him a fright
Because he recognized his face when he saw it in the light he was heavily connected a crew Henry crossed
Henry tried to leave town but they were waiting at the station and they beat his ass down with no hesitation
Henry smiled up with a mouth full of blood and a twinkle in his eye before the shotgun thud

He saw it coming he couldn’t help but smile

Standing still nothing you can do see it coming straight for you
feel the chills but you don’t move see it headed straight for you
Run for the hills rent a motel room see it coming straight for you
no matter what you say or do it’s still headed straight for you

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Skatepark Etiquette/Universal Wisdom

Instruction Manual For Life: Have Fun. Don't Be A Jerk

Sharing Dicks With Alyssa

Whooeee! Saturday night was a good one. I might not work at the trendiest, busiest bar in town, but anytime I can make my money and walk out of the bar before 2AM, I am hyped. Plus it was my homie Alyssa's birthday (well, 4/20 pre-funk actually her birthday is today, Earth Day, but I met up with her and some other pals to celebrate on Saturday). I met them at a bar in Capitol Hill and snagged a ginger ale. After we left the bar and headed up the hill it was revealed that Alyssa had never eaten at Dicks so we decided to scratch that one off the Emerald City bucket (fuck it?) list. The scene at Dicks on Capitol Hill is a vibrant one to say the least (it's referenced in heavy detail in the Sir-Mix-Alot classic "My Posse's On Broadway"). Some crusties were busking, frat boys were being fratty, hoes were hoeing it up, etc. All in line to cram some horrible/wonderful fast food into their faces after an evening of consuming America's favorite poison, alcohol. When we got to the window to place our order the clerk commented on how she liked the bamboo terrarium thingy I happened to be holding, which was a gift that one of Alyssa's friends had bestowed upon her. I told her that it was actually Alyssa's and Alyssa didn't miss a beat in offering it unto the chick at the window. All were stoked. Lys tends to live life to the fullest in the moment and I was really impressed (though not surprised) with her generosity and rad spirit (on her birthday celebration no less). The girl was also hyped and she didn't make us pay for ketchup, which is a huge win in the Dicks consumption game. Then we huddled in a nearby doorway and crammed some dicks down our throats.
Life's a party if you want it to be


Gotta do it
Dicks don't necessarily go down easy
A feast of fools Alive she cried
Don't act like you haven't done it
Milkshake's way better with the addition of Wild Turkey

Sunday, April 21, 2013

The Bridge Project

My Uncle John has always been a rad dude. Adventurer, builder, sailor, father, uncle, and friend. He is building a bridge in rural Panama for schoolchildren and I am very proud and inspired. Not everyone in the world is concerned with bombs and sports logos.

http://youtu.be/Yqf1SFbR-64

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

If I May...

Let the disinformation and misinformation begin. We will likely NEVER know what happened at the Boston Marathon, regardless of what ANY official and/or media organization tells us. Have we learned nothing as a populous after 9/11? Apparently not. Put a flag on your car to show that you're one of the good guys and go back to your twitter account. Anyone that thinks that we will have a Marathon suspect caged, tried and brought to justice in a neat little packaged timeline is an imbecile with a linear-patterned brain. I'm not making any claims as to have any insight here, I just wish that my fellow citizens would put down the pacifiers and wake up to the fact that anything is possible in this day and age. It is a very scary reality to face and understand that those that govern us don't necessarily have our best interests and public safety at the core of their agenda. And that is certainly not to say that "they" are out to get us. But I beg you, please consider any and all possibilities and that ANYONE is capable of lying in this scenario, and most likely is. These attacks don't make sense, right? They seem inconceivable. And so how could the background expected to be forthright and clear cut? There is a huge difference between reality and what we want to believe and I think that we as a country and as individuals could benefit from discerning the difference. And now back to skateboarding... (That's all you want to hear from me, right?)

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Sucknology Manifesto

I'm a little bit worried about us humans. Technology is making us weak, indifferent, uncreative and complacent among many other things. Of course I'm writing these very words on a laptop computer and I've already sent several text messages on my iPhone this morning (including one attempt at *facetime), but I'd be lying if I said it didn't all make me feel a little empty inside. Now don't get me wrong, technology is awesome for communicative and entertainment purposes (last night I watched Tombstone in its entirety on youtube, for example), but dating? I don't care how lonely I get I'm just not doing the online dating thing. I see it as another step towards the de-evolution of the human species. The more we depend on technology, the less we depend on each other, and that can't be good. Our global community consists of hot links and quick stops on the information superhighway whereas a real community is filled with actual flesh and blood people in actual real locales sharing ideas, stories, love, etc. So what happened? And more importantly at this point, where is the balance between embracing the technology and maintaining a human to human element in our lives? I don't know but I really wanted to talk about it (on my blog and of course the irony is not lost). More than one of my usual skate or music posts which ultimately aren't saying very much, I would love to start a conversation with this one and exchange some ideas, because I'm sure there are many different perspectives on this situation, but it does have to be addressed, no doubt. I guess being aware of the danger of a detached homogenized online society is a big step, but I am truly worried about those who can't see that blurred line and from time to time I am one of them, aimlessly trolling facebook in the wee hours of the morning, sending a text to an old flame--it makes me feel like shit and I'm sure I can't be alone. What do YOU think?

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Ride Report

It had been about 13 months since I went snowboarding. I thought I was kinda over it. There'd be times I'd be snowboarding and I'd be like, "this is just not skating." Whatever, that was negativity talking. Went up to Mt. Baker over the weekend and I am hyped. Everybody up there was in such a good mood and so friendly. Nary a snow bro in sight. People were there because they wanted to be there and the vibe was infectious. Full on February conditions on April 7th and the terrain at Baker itself is very gnarly. Just going there and not getting served up was very inspiring indeed. Don't have any photos or videos of my experience so this is somewhat of a gush-post, but it was an excellent day and I just want to say I'm hyped. A little late in the season, but I'm already scheming on my next trip. Sometimes it feels really good to be wrong...

Saturday, April 6, 2013

CSFU Review

I got over being bummed on Thrasher Magazine. I was a little upset with The Bible a few days ago or so. I had renewed my subscription with the free t-shirt option. I believe this is eleventh time I have done so, so I have alot of Thrasher t-shirts. I wrote them a little note with my renewal asking if it were possible to get a different t-shirt (specifically the "use a skate go to prison" shirt. I let them know that I was going to trial the following Tues.) All the shirts are priced the same and I thought it wouldn't be a big deal for them to hook up a long time subscriber like myself, particularly when I had alluded to my legal predicament. So I was a little crestfallen when in spite of my note I received a standard white "Thrasher Skateboard Magazine" t-shirt in the mail the other day, of which I already have several. Did my letter mean nothing, is Thrasher really that corporate? I wondered. I was also kind of pissed because I didn't expect to get a magazine for 6-12 weeks which meant that I was going to miss out on the May issue which includes the new Creature video,CSFU, unless I bought it on the newsstand.
Well I'm glad that for whatever reason the May issue showed up in my mailbox a few days after that (with the video) and now I'm hyped again. (I'll just cut the sleeves off an older shirt and rock my new crispy one) Anyway here's a review of the video...
The first thing I noticed was the music. The first song is a rap song. What? Is this a Creature video? Don't get me wrong, I love the rap but I thought it was sort of a shocker for the most metal brand in skateboarding to set off their new flick with rap music. But what really matters is the skating and obviously these dudes are all destroying everything in their path.
Willis Kimbel at Burnside
Jon Hanks at Burnside
Obviously this squad is inspired by horror movies and the filming and editing, much of it captured in grainy "Creature Lo-Def" really achieves the feel of say Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But what's even cooler than the editing gimmicks is the spots chosen: bloody pools, rusty coping, Kona crust, ditches, freeways and waterslides. Navarrette somehow even manages to bring the spook to crispy spots like the Vans Park and Bucky's Rockstar Bowl. I also noticed that the spooky aesthetic is maintained through using clips with mostly dark, gloomy and overcast weather. Maybe they just filmed in the Northwest a bunch, but still the final product is crusty gloom, far from the sunny skies of say the new Bones video.
Speaking of the Northwest, it's always cool/depressing to see the pros shred spots I've skated...
See what I mean by depressing? Oh well. Like I said it's also cool to know that I've gotten my meager licks in at some legendary parks.
And yeah Kimbel's part is insane. He eats Portland's Pier park alive, among other spots. Feeble/Smith combos and a NBD fakie nosegrab invert in the deep deep. Gnar tech to the core!
They got a "new" old dude on the squad by the name of Scissors. His style is so smooth yet janky. I love it! And it is super cool to see the Creature dudes at Tony Hawk's Birdhouse ramp. One Love!
What else...Where's Heddings and Horn? Dunno but we did get a part from Truman Hooker, where he boardslides a chain! Stu Graham slams hard and emerges triumphant, Al Partanen front blunts on a waterslide from stories above (not to mention skates on the freeway), Ryan Reyes rallies, Gravette backflips, Hitz destroys Washington St. and Navarrette has tailblock/rollout combos for days. If anything in the previous sentence is intriguing or even makes sense, go check the fucking video. It's free in this month's Thrasher. I back them again now.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Call-Of-Rad-Oh!

Colorado is an amazing place. I once told someone that the Highest State wasn't really my vibe because it seemed like everyone was spoiled--zorched in the sunshine eating pussy and smoking weed. I was hating, but why? That actually sounds kind of awesome. Sure, snowboarding is for the bourgeoisie, but it's still fun and honestly skateboarding is going off in Colorado right now, like Washington, but without the rain.
Anyway I recently had the pleasure of driving through Colorado (I thought I was gonna maybe move to Denver but the Emerald City is an alluring mistress) and if I had hit up every skatepark I wanted to along the way, I'd still be there. So here's a little video timeline of that particular day when I briefly skated Loveland, Windsor and Ft. Collins.

Loveland-I showed up at 8am or so and eventually got some cigarette huffing high schooler to film my cruddy line...
Then it was on to Windsor. I was by myself but like the genius I am I filmed myself skating. Pop a Dramamine before viewing...


So once I got to Ft. Collins (which might be the best park I've ever been to) I was inclined to showcase its gnarly glory by doing a little video tour on my iPhone. Trouble was I was busy looking through the viewfinder and not real life, I unwittingly put my foot on my stick and ate shit, cracking my phone. The old me would've thrown a temper tantrum but life is short and sometimes you gotta laugh at yer own blunders...



Monday, April 1, 2013

A Real ShitShow

Went down to the Fremont Market to say what up to my friend Court at his booth today before work. Scored a rad t-shirt, but that's not the point of this particular post. Before skating over the bridge from Fremont to South Lake Union it was decided that I had to take a piss and Court felt the same way about the contents of his bladder so we hit up the Peet's coffee shop on Fremont Ave.
Where the shit went down
Peet's seems like a hotbed for homeless dudes and other wayfarers to do their business. Like Starbucks, the bathrooms are free and anyone can use them without being hassled into buying a coffee or even hounding the counter staff for a key.
It was a fairly busy day in Fremont so there were a few people that had the same idea of using these particular restrooms as us. We walked in and found that the men's room was occupied which was no big deal except we started to hear the toilet flush a number of times while we waited.
Not the culprit
"There's probably some homeless dude taking a gnarly shit in there", Court commented.
It was a 1 person bathroom so we really had no choice but to wait. We had already come so far and I really didn't want to skate all the way to my j-o without taking a piss first. While we waited and the flushing continued several females came and went from the ladies' room. Court decided that he had had enough and let me know that I was up next for the men's room and that his intention was to use the ladies' at its next available occupancy, social norms be damned. He just didn't want to be involved with the men's room after whatever was going on in there had concluded.
No sooner had he staked his claim on the ladies' room when another chick came and used her gender-appropriate lavatory, barring Court from his mission. Then a dude came up and got in line behind us. (Actually he first asked us if we were waiting in line before I sarcastically replied that No, we were just hanging out by the restroom in Peet's)
Coulda been any one of 'em
Anyway one final flush rumbled from the men's room and it was finally my turn. (Court had forgone his place in line when he unsuccessfully laid claim to the ladies' room) And who finally walked out of that men's room? Not the stinky hobo that we were expecting to see, but a female! And not a homeless female or even a crusty gutter punk chick, but just a regular twenty-something gal. I didn't get the best look at her face because she bolted down the stairs (presumably embarrassed #1 at coming out of the men's room and #2 at all the flushing and subsequent stench she created), but judging by her clothes and physique it was safe to say that she was just a regular gal that wandered in to use the restroom on a day of window shopping in the market with her boyfriend or whatever. I imagined her man patiently waiting, sipping an iced coffee while his babe repeatedly flushed the contents of her guts away in the men's room.
When we saw her come out, Court and I looked at each other in shock. A girl! Holy Shit! I had to put the humor of the situation coupled with my vague social outrage aside and head in and take my piss because I was finally up and I didn't want to be late for work.
(Photographic Re-Enactment)
I wish that I were writing this in the future, at a time when smartphones will have a sensory component to them, allowing users to document smells as well as images and videos, because there really is no way for me to describe what it smelt like in there. My eyes were watering. I've smelt all kinds of shit in my day: sweet shit, sour shit, old shit, new shit, baby pooh, etc., but I ain't never smelled no shit like this before! The closest thing I could say it smelled like was halitosis, or what is more commonly known as epicly chronic bad breath, however it was most assuredly shit. How could such a little lady emit such a scent? I had no time to really ponder as I quickly pissed and and flushed the handle of the toilet with my Chukka Low. Not a chance in hell that I was sticking around to wash my hands or smooth my eyebrows over in the mirror or anything like that. I burst out of that bathroom so fast, I nearly kissed the ground at Court's feet I was so happy that the experience was over. We were fucking dying with laughter.
My original intention was to get a coffee on the way out. Nope. Wasn't gonna happen.
Can you imagine if Court or I had ended poaching the ladies' room in a similar situation? Can you imagined if we had poohed?
I can't believe she got away with that shit...

Friday, March 29, 2013

Sonic Slab Review Revue The Fifth

Green Lake Branch Edition. I'm Ballard4Lyfe but I'm driving alot less these days so the GL SPL is gonna be my official home branch. They open at one everyday so after I get my java from the lovely ladies at cafe LuLu I usually cruise over there and check on my holds and whatever other gems I can find. Today was a huge score!
Eccentric Soul: Mighty Mike Lenaburg Got another Eccentric Soul release from Numero Group Records: Mighty Mike Lenaburg, and all I can really say is fuck yes. Mike Lenaburg was a producer of soul music in Phoenix Arizona in the 60's and 70's and this disc is a compilation of some of the rad shit that he produced. Like many of the groups showcased in Witchata's Smart's Palace scene, you probably haven't heard of any of these artists, which is kind of what the Eccentric series is all about: documenting a relatively obscure place and time of a particular genre's musical history. One of my favorite things about thinking/talking about music is realizing a sound's geographical influence. Phoenix Arizona? Are you shitting me? Mike Lenaburg was not. Smooth and raw (like sex--soul music always reminds me of sex which I think is often its very intention), listening to this record transports the listener to the desert, stuck in between the paradigms of Los Angeles and Detroit. The recordings definitely have an intense analog aesthetic. To hear them remastered would only detract from their charm. The album plays through more like a mixtape, with most tracks just sort of fading out, which would be my only complaint. I want more! Haven't heard a shabby release yet and I sincerely hope that these dudes continue to unearth these obscure cuts.
Eminem-The Marshall Mathers LP Obviously this is a ridiculous CD to "review" in 2013 but I'm goin' for it for a couple of reasons. #1: every "rock writer" has had his/her shot at writing about Eminem and I thought I'd give it a go. #2: I fucked up and got the edited version which is damn near impossible to listen to. A very large portion of the lyrical content is literally missing. It's quite jarring. Especially when you've been listening to this shit for twelve years like I'm sure most of us have. Or maybe you haven't. Maybe you don't like rap or you find Eminem offensive. I find the edited version of this album offensive. So now that I have the censored chip off my shoulder I should empty the hot gas from my brain and say what thousands of others have written before me: this record changed the fucking game. Marketing ploy or not, Em brought his take on the ghetto to the burbs, beach and frat parties with a flair and honesty that has yet to be replicated. It was socially polarizing in the music biz, the true hiphop world, and many other subcultures (I remember being at a warped tour in 99 and seeing a tattooed mohegian "punk" throwing water bottles and middle fingers at Mr. Mathers like Em had just shit down his throat. The dude was so bummed, and what's more punk than bumming out the punx?) And apart from all the controversy, Eminem could and can shut your favorite rapper down in a freestyle cypher as well as the studio booth. A true wordsmith, (no matter how corny and/or hellacious he may be at times) I'm convinced that if Marshall Mathers were not Eminem he could've been Tom Robbins.
Radiohead-The King Of Limbs This samplespastic Radiohead EP is also a bit older (2011) but I'm not exactly pitchfork.com nor do I care to be. These are reviews of CD's that I find at the Seattle Public Library, if anyone's paying attention... I like this shit. It's trippy and weird and is propelled by interesting rhythms that I haven't heard anywhere else. For me alot of it almost translates to jungle music, but with that sensitive depressing British twist. Self-released (and partially recorded at Drew Barrymore's house?) King of Limbs walks the line of overtly obscure and garishly mainstream. I dig what they're up to, but admittedly can't listen to this stuff everyday, kinda like I don't want to get stoned and watch Gattaca on the reg.
"What's your bloody number...?"

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Mini Horse Weirdout

Sometimes things just fall right into your lap. I was chilling in Maudsley State Park last summer with my friends Mike, Joacha and their wonderful pooch, Parker. I've always thought of Maudsley as a universe unto itself and on this particular today it was obliged to unleash the weird. Having lived around the corner from each other in Brooklyn, NY we just weren't accustomed to seeing things like this around our way...

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Skate Or Die

Getting slammed off the bat when you ride the bus for an hour and haven't eaten yet and you are heartbroken and in legal and financial trouble on the anniversary of your friend's death, sucks. Today was a rough one. But you know what? Still skated. No matter how weird life gets skateboarding holds me down, and I would like to say thanks. Still the coolest thing on the planet. The love of my life. Jewel in my crown. Thorn in my side. It's pretty hard to express how I feel about this activity. I am so grateful to still be rolling in 2013. My hip, heart and head hurt and today was the first day I skated without the scram bracelet in about four months and without the sweetleaf in probably a decade with literally a handful of exceptions. I felt wonky and out of it and I'm sure all my tricks looked like garbage, but I still skated. Didn't watch TV, didn't play fantasy football, didn't collect any stamps, didn't do the Harlem Shake, didn't smoke any dope or drink a beer, didn't work or fuck or fight. I rode my skateboard, and because of that nothing will top today. Except for tomorrow.

'Til Infinity

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Proof That My Homie Loves Me

Scientific Proof
Jeff Strykowski sent me a package in the mail. I knew what it was before it arrived because he sent me a photograph of himself wearing what was inside, and asked me if I liked the article for myself. I speak of Proof Sunglasses. The company was founded in Eagle, Idaho, and the model that Jeff ended up sending me is made from re-purposed Canadian maple skateboard decks! Going green and reusing shit within the skate community has become as popular as it is practical, lately, with a bit of a cottage industry made up of artists, enthusiasts and collectors buying, selling, trading and collecting all kinds of cool shit that was once skated.
The shades Jeff sent me are called the Bud model (we're buds and buds get smoked from time to time--just sayin') and the color scheme is known as USA (red white and blue). They kinda have an old school 3D glasses vibe to them, which I have always had an affinity for.
Stoked
As stated on the Proof website, "extreme attention to detail is placed in each frame Proof makes. Each pair has laser engraved logos and a quote on the inside arm." The quote on the pair I got says "Sk8 or Die". Hype! They also donate a portion of the proceeds to people in India with cataracts, which I think is very nice. Proof shades come with a balsa wood little stash box and a sexy cloth/carrying case pouch thingy.
Jeff said mine were an early birthday present, and I gotta say this is by far the coolest gift I've gotten in awhile. Way too expensive and fancy for a dude like me, I am so grateful (they are a bit fragile so I'll have to be careful!) and feel a little bit bad that homie dropped coin on such a frivolous whim. Love you, bro. There is nothing like the feeling of a friend reaching out, and this is just amazing.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

More Beacon...

Beaconcrew

Last week I posted a night shot of the bowl at Beacon. Today I got one of the young homies hanging out. I'm on it because The Stranger came out today and they have the same bowl on their cover. I just can't figure out why. There doesn't seem to be any story on Jefferson Skatepark or skateboarding anywhere on the pages within. Weird. It made me pick up a rag that I usually dismiss as grossly liberalized, left-wing bigotry and propaganda. So was this photo a mistake? Did it get slipt in right before printing by a stoked Stranger staffer? Or is the Stranger's editorial staff trying to remind us that spring has sprung in SeaTown? Can I expect in the next few weeks to see droves of hipsters trying to learn feebles at one of my favorite parks? What gives...
Random Unexplained Skatepark Cover
 

Monday, March 18, 2013

Character Sketchy

Found this old shit on my computer as I'm deleting and backing stuff up. Not sure what to do with it right now. Here ya go, Internet

One night, while laying in bed, he felt absolutely compelled to write about something that was neither  music nor skateboarding. He didn’t know why. As he was drifting off to sleep, exhausted and perfectly comfortable to let any and all thoughts wash over him, a strange and entirely unassociated sentence popped into his brain. Nothing had triggered it. No thought caused him to think of what he thought. Truthfully the fist thing he thought of as he lay in bed next to his girlfriend’s intense body heat, was a forest. For whatever reason, he thought of a cool, dark forest, lush and green like a Pacific Northwest thicket in the midst of a hearty March rain.
Fair enough. This vision of random forestry was certainly unique but not that uncommon of a thought in the unsolicited imagery and ideas constantly cascading through his strange brain, almost to the point where he could often swear he was losing his mind or at the very least someday would. A looming vivid and serene dimentia.
But this time he knew he had to get out of bed and obey the thought because it came in sentence form; not just an image or an idea but a sentence that rang out in his head, over and over again. Whenever a sentence and not an image or an idea haunted him, he hopped out of bed in a flash and attempted to write it down, immediately. It didn’t happen very often, and, it was so much easier to lay there and contentedly drift off to sleep, but he knew that when he awoke, that sentence would be gone forever. And so it commanded him. And on the night that he strangely thought of that lush forest, for whatever reason, the sentence that gripped his brain was the following, and this is what he wrote:

His name was Edgar. He wore a reddish brown worn in leather jacket with a huge seventies style collar, the John Travolta disco pimp look. Edgar had black hair that was now all but gray, him being in his early forties and having lived pretty hard. His face showed it. His skin was rough and battered, but there was a shine in his eye that was undeniable. A certain smirk-like quality to his presence that charmed him from one scenario to the next, chain smoking out of his mouth full of stained, crooked teeth, with the exception of one gold crown that nearly sizzled when his mouth was rarely free of a butt. A paisley polyester shirt unbuttoned enough to expose a bushy mass of wild curly gray chest hair, though underneath the bad fashion, his forearms still had their black hair.
An immigrant who had worked his entire life since arriving in the USA some twenty five years ago as a house painter, now found himself in the above described Northwest forest in the “writer’s” head, hunched under a giant tree, bleeding profusely into paisley polyester.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Sonic Slab Review Revue Part 4

From the Douglas Branch of the Seattle Public Library System, I got some new (to me) discs to flap gum 'bout.

Wiz Khalifa-Rolling Papers So lately as time goes on I'm more and more obsessed with rap music, particularly of the "trashy" variety. When I say trashy I guess I mean flamboyant and glitzy rap rather than gritty and raw hiphop. I just like the ridiculous opulence of the trashy rap. And I'm really into 808 drops. So imagine my disappointment when I gave this Wiz Khalifa disc a spin. These beats is candy yo. Trashy yes, but Rolling Papers (that is the beats, Wiz's voice and personality in general) lacks a certain bombastic flair to make me take its ridiculousness seriously. I guess the guy grew up in North Dakota and the music reflects that. It's got a countrified wannabe urban vibe to it. I picture a bunch of dudes in the sticks trying to tune in the hip hop show from the college radio station in Bismarck, desperately trying to connect with the culture of rap music and reject the cowboy society that surrounds them, a la White Boyz. I don't care how many tattoos this guy's got or how many joints he smoked, he ain't no thug, but I do like that one song with Too Short.

Eccentric Soul: Smart's Palace  This is a great record. I've actually been listening to it for a while now (I didn't recognize the cover art at Douglas and thought it might have been another edition). Smart's Palace was a dive bar in Witchita Kansas during the late sixties that featured live music, particularly apparantly some very heavy hitting soul music. Totally underground. Off the radar. Big fish in a small pond. If these dudes had been located in Detroit and not Witchita during that time, names like Chocolate Snow and Tim Jacob might be of the house hold variety along with Otis Redding or the Temptations. But the music on this disc ain't glossy. It's raw and often live recordings of no name soulsters at their best infamous glory. You can feel the sweat, beer and polyester when you listen to this shit. Very highly recommended for fans of classic soul and/or the BK neo soul revival.

Bedouin Soundclash-Street Gospels Meh. I want to like this, I just don't I'm really not feeling Jamaican roots as marketing tactics to sell suburban punk kids mediocre records. The dude's voice is too pretty. I'm not saying I'm some bad shotta, but I get the feeling if these dudes went to JA they wouldn't get past the gates of Club Med, yet there are photos soundsystems and Orange Street dancehalls throughout. And the music itself is very light. For a band with the word "soundclash" in their name they sure could use a little boom in their sound. I'm not trying to hate but if I'm gonna listen to hipsters undertake Jamaican riddims I'll take the Aggrolites, Slackers, Westbound Train, or any number of dope acts. Bedouin Soundclash just don't seem to Catch a Fire. Rat in mi Kitchen...

Thursday, March 14, 2013

If You Want Blood You Got It

Ft. Collins, Colorado

Beaconview

The fool on the hill sees the sun going down

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Scram Skating

So without getting into a whole bunch of ish right here, I've been legally binded (haha binded) to wear an ankle bracelet for about the past 4 months or so (a quarter of a year, gnarly). It sucks, lemme tell ya. It's a big clunky thing that doesn't ever come off. It hurts like a bastard and gets hella raw, literally to the bone. So when this first happened (I had no idea how long it would be on) I resolved to not skate. The anklet is worth about $3000 or so and I didn't want to fuck it up with a runaway-would-be shinner-torpedo-skateboard or some such shit, so I didn't skate. Then, eventually I fucking snapped. I had to skate in order to maintain what little scrap of sanity I had left and also because like so many rednecks before me have said (and I paraphrase here), if I don't ride my skateboard, then the terrorists have already won.
No, but seriously folks, skateboarding to me and so many countless others represents freedom among many other noble virtues, and as a skateboarder, American and citizen of the world it is my freedom, honor, privilege and duty to skate as frequently as I deem appropriate. America, Fuck Yeah!
And with that, from my video soapbox, I give you Scram Skating...

 
Filmed at Holman Rd. by Ollie D

Filmed at Marginal Way by C. Hoff I included this one because I was wearing shorts that day, and because honestly I was pretty fucking stoked to get something on that wall, even if it was just a bitty scratch

--fuck dudes, i'm gonna go do some scram skating right now  later---

To Get The Fuck Out Of The Way Of The Car

The other morning I was getting coffee and I came upon a chicken (rooster?) in the middle of Latona Ave. I of course immediately implemented a video investigation to answer the age old question and lame joke opener...

The dude in the INFINITI was nowhere near as amused as me (what else is new?)

"That Guy At The Show Filiming The Band On His Phone" Episode 4: Ska!!

About a week and a half ago a fairly large, diverse and yet unified group of friends of mine went out to see a show. I love jamming people together from different areas of my life, and see what happens. What happened was we all went out and saw the Slackers at the Crocodile Lounge. The shit was phenomenal. Some guy got butt hurt right off the bat because I was dancing (a familiar thread in my show reviews, admittedly) but then my new friend Mon from Lynn, MA bought him a beer and he chilled the fuck out. Then the band covered "Attitude" by the Misfits. We all knew the song was directed at him. It sounds like a review cliche, but the Slackers never really disappoint. Some dude proposed to his girl on stage and she said yes. Ah, young punx in love. Speaking of, here's a quick clip of "Married Girl" I grabbed while I wasn't busy gettin' weird on the dancefloor... Kinda wish I had filmed a little more because I am particularly impressed with the sound quality, although I can't say the same of my not-so-steady hand. Do the rock steady not the film steady!
Like a month before this my friend Alyssa and I got really baked and wandered down to see the Toasters, more of an NYCSKA relic than the ever-relevant Slackers. Whatever, I'm not here to judge but the scene at that show was very weird. El Corazon was sparsely attended that evening and Bucket seemed like a dick to me, but here's a clip of "History Book" a la 2013...
So there you have it rude boys and girls. Keep skanking. Keep wanking.