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...

 

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.

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?

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

Bowling For Ballard

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