My Post To Lean On

A friend told me that in order to really, really enjoy Dinosaur jr., you "have to have a penis". So I'm in the clear. Just barely.

Jealous Creatures. Stoke-in-Motion.

Landon's a bright dude. With some of the brightest blood I've ever seen. Tire pump justice.

Cruisin' World. Braking for cops. But. Just. Fucking. Barely.

The mini at Thrasher's Texas Death Match. Too many pros; fanning-out for an extended period of time is one of my favorite activities. Sly even worked up the courage to walk up to David Gonzalez and give him his propers. Dude was Skater of the Year!

 Hyped. To-the-max.

Did I feel like a perve, snapping this photo? Absolutely. But I digress...

Everyone was staring. Many were photo-ing. BUT- Sylvester was the only guy brassy enough to call her out on it. And it went a little something like this:

Sly: So, uh...you knew what you were doing when you left the house today, right? I mean,  must have been a draft...

The woman: I didn't know they were gonna be that short! I swear!

Sly: Right, right...

That's why Sylvester's the king, and the rest of us are schmucks. And she is...  I dunno. 

Landon, respecting his heritage. Later that same day, we went for burgers at an old joint. Got our food, walked out back to the beer garden and, unbeknownst to us, right into the only geriatric St. Patty's Day celebration in Austin. Crepe paper, banners, ancient instruments, ancient people...everything. One of the old ladies saw none of us were wearing green, and threatened, in the most light-hearted and grandmotherly way possible, to pinch us. 

"My last name is O'Brien," Landon whispered. "I don't gotta wear shit."

New face. Think I'm gonna hold off on washing that shoulder for a while. Sylvester's jazzed too, obviously.


 

Emily and Dave. Rad individuals. Landon always did have good taste.

Pretty whack. But we waited a while for it, so I felt compelled. They were on stage, they're performing- but the pic still felt a little pervy. Not as much as earlier, but still. Catholic guilt. Obviously not enough. Oh well.

This is what precociousness looks like. Precociousness, and wonderment.

  

Ladies and fucking gentlemen, this is what it's all about. All of it.

In this photo, which a friend took and which I intend to frame and mount beside my toilet, I embrace, WITHOUT QUESTION, the greatest mosher who ever lived. 

Didn't get his name. Doesn't matter- might even be better that way. What this dude did during the Black Breath set, well... it's the stuff of legend. That I was fit to bear witness- karma be praised.

He knew every note. He knew every lyric. He showed me moves theretofore nonexistent. He made at least seventy different facial expressions per minute, and in that same time frame shattered at least as many commonly held preconceptions about dudes who listen to heavy music.

He was a monolith. Raw fucking power! But he was gentle. He was in-your-face! But he was respectful. He literally commanded the pit, ensuring everyone had an incredible, but blood-free, time. He wore cut-off jeans, a Hawaiian shirt (that, he lamented, exited the fray with a few less buttons) and the mutton-chops of a seriously bad motherf***er. His presence, and actions, were a show-within-a-show. Watching this dude do his thing was seriously one of the most life-affirming experiences of my short existence upon this planet. 

Thanks, dude. For showing me how to live.

Reeking of Effort

...and I'm not...gonna be the one tryin' to get you to see, shinin' the light in your eyes.

You look like someone I don't recognize.

 

Sister Faith.

 Uh oh. Ghost with a boner.

 

It Means "Peace".

All of your fears, actually, aren't well-founded. Or true. And everyone's hands aren't calloused and cruel.

Snapping Necks // Cashing Checks

The next post won't be for a couple of weeks. So, for my five or so viewers- hold tight. Moving everything into the new apartment and it's proving more difficult than I thought it would. Internet and TV won't be running in that mufucka for a minute or so. There it is. I hope fools dig on the place.

What can I say? It's becoming interesting. Some days I get home feeling lost, and I just stay lost for the rest of the night, not doing shit. Other than reading. Reading a lot. And then I wake up and go to work.

Work has been GOOD lately, I will say that. Today, after a banner lunch, I walk to the back of the shop and as I close in on my post I hear a loud, "Pssst!", out of nowhere. I looked around. It was Kyle. He had climbed all the way into the vertical turning lathe, hidden from the world. He poked his head just above the lip of the giant machine, grabbed the door handle with his left arm, and, while slowly pulling it shut, whispered, "See you at five 0'clock." It was fucking hilarious.

But anyway, some days I get home with no drive to do anything, so I don't. Can't fight it.

Other days, though, I get home and energy is fucking high. Fever pitch. Like today. Maybe it's because the homie has got a show tonight. Maybe it's because I don't have work tomorrow and I'm gonna crush on some angry sodas. It's Friday, could be that simple. I don't think it is, though. I don't know. Feels good.

I try to tip-toe through the lows, but I bear-hug the highs and throw them into the pool with me! Literally. Just ask Landon, dude's foot still might not be right. Sorry, man.

Butz. Butts.

GC- 161. The Secret of the Ooze. (Giggle).

...a refrigerator.

Pop. The. Popcorn. Make. The. Right. Call.







That's the biggest selling event of the year. You've only been here for two months! Not gonna happen. Wait, why do you want this so badly?

Because I wanna make bank, bro! Because I wanna...get ass. Look, I'm ready- I can do this!

And...and...this is it, Everyone. Tonight's jam. When the drums come in...Jesus! Turnitup! Bear-hug that shit!  FUCKING SEE YOU OUT THERE!

 Ubiquitous, compelling too,

We cling to you like crazy-glue

And inject such a potent seed

It's best for all humanity!

 The spread of culture

The sword of progress

The vector of suffrage

A warm and septic breeze.

The pomp and elation

The duty and vocation

The blood of the hybrid

It's just a recipe!

 

White Denim.

"I mean, you worked on this video for years... and all of your teammates worked on this video for years, and the company is throwing this premiere to celebrate the video and everyone who was a part of it. 

So he showed up, watched his part... and then he left. Didn't say hello, didn't hang out with the team. Just watched his part and fucking left. You don't do that, you just... don't. It's disrespectful. If you're gonna act like that, just don't even bother coming. I mean, he should have just stayed home.

I wrote him off after that. I stopped talking to him, stopped trying to make an effort to skate with him, and basically just started to hate the guy. That's the kind of person I am- if you piss me off, if you upset me, I'm not gonna just walk up to you and tell you you're pissing me off, or even that you're fucking up. I'm just gonna keep it all inside, bottle it up, and eventually I'm just gonna hate you."
 

Guilty pleasures.