Does anyone make better custom bikes (or lip tricks) than Max Schaaf??
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
GET WELL SOON MR. JACKSON
If anyone has questions about F.I.C. (Feline Idiopathic Cystitis), feel free to consult me. Vet's can be suspiciously uninformative. Their pet health care system mirrors our own. For example, I had to pay $30 for subcutaneous fluids (i.e. 125 cc's of sterile saline, i.e. salt water.) My Pops ran into the exact same type of what he called "extortion" from the elder care center when his folks were on their way out, for i.v. drip bags (1 Liter of saline), costing $45. He inquired the hospital about how much they buy theirs wholesale: 1 dollar, twenty five cents.
Monday, October 31, 2011
GABBA GABBA HEY, GET OFF MY CLOUD!
Halloween weekend show at the Blue Moon Tavern. Odd to think it was an old stomping ground for Kerouac. Now it's just another college pub. Rawmones crushed it that night.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
WE MISS YOU, MOLLY
My Old Man's from Texas. I'm from Louisiana. Southern blood bonds us, somehow r'nuther. There's a certain humor, a genetic attitude in our DNA. Ivins shared that, or crowned it
Molly fought the good fight, with a wip-like wit and wonderfully foul mouth. They don't seem to make journalists like her these days.
The Fun's in the Fight
By Molly Ivins
Austin, Texas--
I've been talkin' to a bunch of the fun-lovin' freedom-fighters of Texas lately, and we all agree that there's one thing we need to pass on to all of y'all from the few of us before I take a leave from these pages. (I'm takin' a leave of absence on account of I have to write a book, and time has become both scant and precious.) The thing is this: You got to have fun while you're fightin' for freedom, 'cause you don't always win.
Havin' fun while freedom fightin' must be one of those lunatic Texas traits we get from the water--which is known to have lithium in it-- because it goes all the way back to Sam Houston, surely the most lovable, the most human, and the funniest of all the Great Men this country has ever produced. While Sam was president of the Republic of Texas, he was visited by a French ambassador.
This Frog was quite the wonder of frontier Austin; he minced along the wooden sidewalks wearing a silk suit with lace at the collar and cuffs, with a gilt epee, no less, slung along his side. Though Sam had a perfectly good fine house, he elected to receive the Frenchman in a log hut with a mud floor. By choice a sometime Indian, Sam wore only fringed leggings and a blanket around his big ol' hairy chest.
While the French ambassador held forth grandiloquently, Houston, who was himself a magnificent orator, replied only with an occasional, "Ugh."
Our Texas freedom-fighters have been prone to misbehavior ever since. A recent Ku Klux Klan rally in Austin produced an eccentric counter- demonstration. When the fifty Klansmen appeared (they were bused in from Waco) in front of the state capitol, they were greeted by five thousand locals who had turned out for a "Moon the Klan" rally. Citizens dropped trou both singly and in groups, occasionally producing a splendid wave effect. It was a swell do.
But I reckon the man who taught most of us how to have fun while fightin' for freedom was John Henry Faulk, who went and died on us a few years back. Despite gettin' blacklisted during the McCarthy Era and having a number of other misadventures during his life, Johnny never lost his sense of mischief, and, to the end of his days, he could be counted on to hatch some elaborate practical joke to bedevil whichever do-badder had most recently and most egregiously harmed the cause of liberty and justice for all.
Johnny used to tell a story about when he was a Texas Ranger, a captain in fact. He was seven at the time. His friend Boots Cooper, who was six, was sheriff, and the two of them used to do a lot of heavy law enforcement out behind the Faulk place in south Austin. One day Johnny's mama, having two such fine officers on the place, asked them to go down to the hen house and rout out the chicken snake that had been doing some damage there.
Johnny and Boots loped down to the hen house on their trusty brooms (which they tethered outside) and commenced to search for the snake. They went all through the nests on the bottom shelf of the hen house and couldn't find it, so the both of them stood on tippy-toes to look on the top shelf. I myself have never been nose-to-nose with a chicken snake, but I always took Johnny's word for it that it will just scare the living shit out of you. Scared those boys so bad that they both tried to exit the hen house at the same time, doing considerable damage to both themselves and the door.
Johnny's mama, Miz Faulk, was a kindly lady, but watching all this, it struck her funny. She was still laughin' when the captain and the sheriff trailed back up to the front porch. "Boys, boys, " said Miz Faulk, "what is wrong with you? You know perfectly well a chicken snake cannot hurt you."
That's when Boots Cooper made his semi-immortal observation. "Yes ma'am," he said, "but there's some things'll scare you so bad, you hurt yourself."
And isn't that what we keep doing in this country, over and over again? We get scared so bad--about the communist menace or illegal immigration or AIDS or pornography or violent crime, some damn scary thing--that we hurt ourselves. We take the odd notion that the only way to protect ourselves is to give up some of our freedom--just trim a little, hedge a bit, and we'll all be safe after all.
Those who think of freedom in this country as one long, broad path leading ever onward and upward are dead damned wrong. Many a time freedom has been rolled back--and always for the same sorry reason: fear.
So one thing I have learned from Johnny Faulk, Texas, and life, is that since you don't always win, you got to learn to enjoy just fightin' the good fight.
On the occasion of the bicentennial of the Constitution, the ACLU was fixin' to lay some heavy life-time freedom fighter awards on various citizens and one of 'em was Joe Raugh, the lawyer who defended so many folks during the McCarthy Era and the civil rights movement (note that the rightness of those stands is always easier to see in retrospect). Rauh was sick in the hospital at the time and asked a friend of his to go down and collect the award for him. His friend went to see him in the hospital and said, "Joe, what you want me to tell these folks?"
So there was Rauh lyin' there sick as a dog, thinking back on all those bad, ugly, angry times--the destroyed careers, the wrecked lives--and he said, "Tell 'em how much fun it was. Tell 'em how much fun it was."
So keep fightin' for freedom and justice, beloveds, but don't you forget to have fun doin' it. Lord, let your laughter ring forth. Be outrageous, ridicule the fraidy-cats, rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin' ass and celebratin' the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was.
Molly fought the good fight, with a wip-like wit and wonderfully foul mouth. They don't seem to make journalists like her these days.
The Fun's in the Fight
By Molly Ivins
Austin, Texas--
I've been talkin' to a bunch of the fun-lovin' freedom-fighters of Texas lately, and we all agree that there's one thing we need to pass on to all of y'all from the few of us before I take a leave from these pages. (I'm takin' a leave of absence on account of I have to write a book, and time has become both scant and precious.) The thing is this: You got to have fun while you're fightin' for freedom, 'cause you don't always win.
Havin' fun while freedom fightin' must be one of those lunatic Texas traits we get from the water--which is known to have lithium in it-- because it goes all the way back to Sam Houston, surely the most lovable, the most human, and the funniest of all the Great Men this country has ever produced. While Sam was president of the Republic of Texas, he was visited by a French ambassador.
This Frog was quite the wonder of frontier Austin; he minced along the wooden sidewalks wearing a silk suit with lace at the collar and cuffs, with a gilt epee, no less, slung along his side. Though Sam had a perfectly good fine house, he elected to receive the Frenchman in a log hut with a mud floor. By choice a sometime Indian, Sam wore only fringed leggings and a blanket around his big ol' hairy chest.
While the French ambassador held forth grandiloquently, Houston, who was himself a magnificent orator, replied only with an occasional, "Ugh."
Our Texas freedom-fighters have been prone to misbehavior ever since. A recent Ku Klux Klan rally in Austin produced an eccentric counter- demonstration. When the fifty Klansmen appeared (they were bused in from Waco) in front of the state capitol, they were greeted by five thousand locals who had turned out for a "Moon the Klan" rally. Citizens dropped trou both singly and in groups, occasionally producing a splendid wave effect. It was a swell do.
But I reckon the man who taught most of us how to have fun while fightin' for freedom was John Henry Faulk, who went and died on us a few years back. Despite gettin' blacklisted during the McCarthy Era and having a number of other misadventures during his life, Johnny never lost his sense of mischief, and, to the end of his days, he could be counted on to hatch some elaborate practical joke to bedevil whichever do-badder had most recently and most egregiously harmed the cause of liberty and justice for all.
Johnny used to tell a story about when he was a Texas Ranger, a captain in fact. He was seven at the time. His friend Boots Cooper, who was six, was sheriff, and the two of them used to do a lot of heavy law enforcement out behind the Faulk place in south Austin. One day Johnny's mama, having two such fine officers on the place, asked them to go down to the hen house and rout out the chicken snake that had been doing some damage there.
Johnny and Boots loped down to the hen house on their trusty brooms (which they tethered outside) and commenced to search for the snake. They went all through the nests on the bottom shelf of the hen house and couldn't find it, so the both of them stood on tippy-toes to look on the top shelf. I myself have never been nose-to-nose with a chicken snake, but I always took Johnny's word for it that it will just scare the living shit out of you. Scared those boys so bad that they both tried to exit the hen house at the same time, doing considerable damage to both themselves and the door.
Johnny's mama, Miz Faulk, was a kindly lady, but watching all this, it struck her funny. She was still laughin' when the captain and the sheriff trailed back up to the front porch. "Boys, boys, " said Miz Faulk, "what is wrong with you? You know perfectly well a chicken snake cannot hurt you."
That's when Boots Cooper made his semi-immortal observation. "Yes ma'am," he said, "but there's some things'll scare you so bad, you hurt yourself."
And isn't that what we keep doing in this country, over and over again? We get scared so bad--about the communist menace or illegal immigration or AIDS or pornography or violent crime, some damn scary thing--that we hurt ourselves. We take the odd notion that the only way to protect ourselves is to give up some of our freedom--just trim a little, hedge a bit, and we'll all be safe after all.
Those who think of freedom in this country as one long, broad path leading ever onward and upward are dead damned wrong. Many a time freedom has been rolled back--and always for the same sorry reason: fear.
So one thing I have learned from Johnny Faulk, Texas, and life, is that since you don't always win, you got to learn to enjoy just fightin' the good fight.
On the occasion of the bicentennial of the Constitution, the ACLU was fixin' to lay some heavy life-time freedom fighter awards on various citizens and one of 'em was Joe Raugh, the lawyer who defended so many folks during the McCarthy Era and the civil rights movement (note that the rightness of those stands is always easier to see in retrospect). Rauh was sick in the hospital at the time and asked a friend of his to go down and collect the award for him. His friend went to see him in the hospital and said, "Joe, what you want me to tell these folks?"
So there was Rauh lyin' there sick as a dog, thinking back on all those bad, ugly, angry times--the destroyed careers, the wrecked lives--and he said, "Tell 'em how much fun it was. Tell 'em how much fun it was."
So keep fightin' for freedom and justice, beloveds, but don't you forget to have fun doin' it. Lord, let your laughter ring forth. Be outrageous, ridicule the fraidy-cats, rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin' ass and celebratin' the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
MAN vs. SHARK revisited
Infographic made to comply with 70 - 30 (%) aspect ratio of info to space. Mega-info. But I guess it works when you're trying to bring a point home. Save the sharks, people. Thus save yourselves.
And make the message pretty.
Monday, August 29, 2011
WAYZGOOSE
First time for me and mine visiting Letter Press event at SVC, called "Wayzgoose" this weekend. Definitely need more time, to peruse and get a poster printed next year. Several groups print all day via large poster plates, hand-rolled ink, and a steam roller. They hang them from the balcony railings of the buildings successive floors. Very cool. Print shop, movable type bins and machines are inside. Highly recommended event.
Get out whilst you can...
First and so far only trek into the real woods this season. Mt Townsend, while ill but happy.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Here's to swimmin' with bow-legged wimmIn.
Mock info-graphic for school. But the facts are true. Inspired while watching Sharkwater documentary. Watch it, and/or go to SavingSharks.com and do what you can to help. As much as Jaws is a favorite, it took it's toll. And the fin has zero flavor...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Inner Beauty
Just returned from East Coast. This was taken in Virginia, which, to some, is still part of the 11 Confederate States. Warm and cuddly.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
MIND FIELD
Pen tool practice, in class. One of my all-time favorites...Albert, not the Pen Tool...
"The key to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources."
Monday, March 28, 2011
DISPOSITION
School has consumed my life. It's all I have to show for anything lately.
Photo illustration self portraits. We choose our own battles...
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Sun Over Marin
Another fun school assignment. Full re-creation, before and after. Reminds me of South Bay.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Perched Aloft
Photoshop assignment for school. Supposed to be a self portrait, using only our own photos. Smoke and ashes in city still sort of pending.....need to take smoke/cloud tutorial from my 2,343,576 page textbook. My gaiters look like leg warmers.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
"Fun Times!!" :)
"Those who know, do not talk; Those who talk, do not know." -Lao Tzu
84 days later and a recent small victory (state-sponsored vindication) for me. You either know, or you don't. This one's for my real friends, who know....
;)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Guy Mariano
We've both spent time away from skating and have come back. I know there are things that I really appreciate about it when I'm not around it and things I really hate about it when I am. Maybe hate is too strong, let's say really find great discomfort in. Did you find this to be true when you started skating a lot again?
Yes I agree. It's like a love / hate relationship. When I was away from skating I would only wish to be in a 10 hour van ride to some random town going to battle a trick just to end up not getting it and then being so sore the next day it would hurt to walk. People might think that's the bad part but to me that's the love. People might think that it's all about the money, the contracts, and the fame but that's the part that I find discomforting. That's the stuff that will pull you away.
This reinforces what Drake Jones told me about ducking out of professional skateboarding: "it feels like a job." For most of us, what this means is 'it sucked having to do stuff and deal with stuff I don't want to do, based off the feeling in my gut.' It's just amazing that this can happen even in careers where the employee is doing exactly what he wants to do, what he's passionate about, he just doesn't like the forum or context he has to do it in as a pro. This has everything to do with how freedom, can be so frail a concept (and how it is an addiction).
GOLF THUG LIFE
This one's for the old man, who is bewildered by the plethora of "No Skateboarding" signs in public domain. Well, turns out, we aint the only vandals.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The 4th Dimension is Mind
Flash Blizzard W/ Flash
Lastnights flash snowstorm was a fun surprise. I enjoy "harsh" weather, just as long as it changes with the seasons. Using a flash in falling snow added a stipple effect to the graffiti shots. Wish it had all stuck around longer than morning.
Learned this move from Danny Torrance.
"And just like that -poof, it was gone..."
Eyes Wide Shut Me Down
First project in class at AIS. I put some solid effort into it, 12 layers/7 channels, and the teacher said, "eh, it was just to get you working, I don't even want to see it."
How could you deny that face??
Monday, January 10, 2011
"Assassination is the extreme form of censorship." -George Bernard Shaw
"On Thursday, Gabby Giffords rose in the House of Representatives to read the First Amendment to the Constitution. On Saturday, she was gunned down by one of her constituents. Giffords held "Congress on Your Corner" outside a Tucson grocery, something she has regularly done to talk face to face with the public, not all of whom supported her. The interchange of views and information is precious to me, nothing is more symbolic of that than the First Amendment and Giffords' commitment to dialog with her community. Nothing is more offensive to me than efforts to cut that off, the ultimate means of silencing an adversary being assassination. The vituperation we've seen in politics is, in and of itself, a means of cutting off the conversations that are needed to move this society and this nation forward. That the vitriol that has become so common can inspire the weak-minded to physical harm and even murder is something we should be concerned with. Please, we are not Enemies!"
~G Armour Van Horn
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