Last Weekend

I've been meaning to provide an update regarding this past weekend, and now it's rapidly turned into next weekend.  Perhaps I can blast through this with a few photos and videos.

Friday: I received my new board and set it up. See the previous post. (Maybe one day I'll be brave enough to post a photo of the board's actual graphics).

Photo by Lando McCall

Saturday: Todd, Lando, and I drove to Baltimore's new pool, arriving at 8:00 AM. We deliberately planned for an early arrival time because we wanted a chance to skate before the pool was inundated with old rippers. Sadly, there were chunks of ice in the flat and it wasn't safe to skate. So we worked for about two hours, eventually with a bunch of other skaters, to try to clear the ice. Lando shot this footage (it's brief) of Todd M attacking the ice with his wheels:

Photos by Lando

After borrowing brooms and sweeping the chips, there were still a few thin patches of dangerous ice. Some of the other skaters decided to try adding some warmth to the equation, and out came the lighter fluid and paper towels (which, sadly, didn't work at all).

By the time everything was dry and safe, there were somewhere betwee 700 and a million skaters there (all dudes), and as I looked around the park, more skaters were trudging through the mud carrying boards, and they were coming from every direction. We did all that work just to take three runs (if that) in the pool.

We took off and went to Lansdowne, which was strange to say the least. I hadn't been there since about 1994, when Todd and I skated there with Kim and Sonia until some thugs showed up to walk their pitbulls through the park.

Saturday Night:

It was game night with Chris, Sarah, Erin, Q, and Dennis, where we battled it out in the farmlands as six vicious settlers in a rough & tumble land called Catan--a game that features cover art that's so mind-numbingly drab ... I can't for the life of me understand how it ever got so popular. It's like a children's Bible illustration.

Here's a photo of me taken moments after I beat everyone because I had Longest Road, Largest Army, and all the settlements, cities, wheat, rocks, sheep, and bricks the game had to offer. I had it all. I dominated. Destroyed. Fools were beggin' me for wheat and praying that I didn't sic the thief on 'em, and I was all like, "I do what I want! Sheep, attack! Back off! You will be crushed!"

Actually, Chris G won because he cheated by saying that the thief was this awesome pal who lets people keep their derned resources for the whole game.

Photo by Chris to the Grady

Sunday:

As a penalty for cheating, I talked Chris into skating in College Park at 8 AM. He met up with me, Todd M, and Aaron H. We had the park to ourselves because we're old as dirt and we're capable of getting up super early. Chris skated, drank Gatorade, and eventually loosened his trucks. He also took a few photos, and straight up, he's a great photographer. Here's a link. I mean I'm still mad about the whole Settlers thing, but I can admit the guy's got the skills.

My Ghastly New Ride

Check out the curved rails.

Back in 1986, when I was about to buy my first skateboard from Allskate in Waldorf, I was told by my friends to never buy a board for the graphics alone; one should always buy a board for the shape.

So after looking at all of the decks in the shop, standing on quite a few to see which one felt just right, I selected the board I knew I was getting all along because I saw it in a magazine and thought the graphics were awesome: the first Schmitt Stix Lucero.

I used to have this sticker on my Lucero.
It was partly tucked in the wheel well.

After that, every board I ever picked up was either given to me, or I bought it based solely on the coolness of the design. C'mon! I was a fan of art. I loved skateboard graphics. I loved illustrations way more than skating. I borrowed my cousin John's Jeff Kendall just so I could attempt to draw it. I tried to copy the illustration for Kryptonics' Bomb King, and I even tried copying Powell Peralta's infamous Skull and Sword (the latter of which I wish I could show you. It turned out so bad. SO BAD. Imagine an impatient 12-year-old's pencil sketch version of one of Vernon Courtlandt Johnson's most technically difficult illustrations).

And now, in 2014, as I rapidly approach my fortieth birthday, and after years of buying boards for the wrong reasons, I finally came around to buying one strictly for the shape. Todd M. sent me some links and discussed sizes, specs, dimensions… you know, e'rything a smart & informed shopper would need. He steered me online toward the perfect board, and I bought it for the shape.

Who cares about graphics? I thought. I'll sand 'em away, spray paint over 'em like Jon Bulldog. Who cares?

I had the board shipped to Dischord and raced over there after work on Friday. I couldn't wait. The weather reports were calling for sunshine and temperatures hovering around 60˚ for both Saturday and Sunday, so I was excited as all get-out. When the deck emerged from the box, Melissa Q was standing next to me, and she laughed immediately, saying comically, abruptly, and without hesitation, "Oh my god that's hideous!"

And she was right. 

I mean, I knew it was ugly when I ordered it. But seeing this grisly monstrosity in person was shocking. I took a photo of it, but I can't share it with you because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings on the Interwebs by being so specific (what if the artist actually reads this blog?). I can, however, detail the imagery in words, so try to imagine this:

• Apparently, it's a skull. 
• In shades. 
• With hair. 
• I guess the skull is screaming. 
• And wearing a crown of thorns. 
• There is television static in the skull's mouth. 
• There are spikes everywhere.

I don't know what kind of deadline this graphic artist was up against, but I assure you … dude could've used an extension. It's the kind of illustration that's captured best in blue ballpoint pen and strictly reserved for the backs of a jean jackets with the sleeves torn off.

Who is responsible for green-lighting this?!

Who said, yes, this image will be mass-produced?!?!

I like to imagine a Mad Men-style, smoke-filled, male-dominated board room meeting led by an overweight, sweaty executive chewing a gnarled cigar, who pulls the pasted illustration up from an easel and gruffly exclaims in the voice of Johnny Caspar from MIller's Crossing, "Yes, this is the one. This is the illustration we're going with. The one my dog, Pom-pom, drew while listening to Ride the Lightening."

Hey bandmates: click for a larger image.

I intended to buy sandpaper and paint, but I felt compelled to urgently cover the board with the quickness, so, with a bunch of Minutes stickers lying around the house, I used 24 of 'em to do the job. I know I may look like a complete megalomanic by putting stickers of my own band on the bottom of a board, but trust me when I say, I didn't see another viable option. It was either Minutes stickers or nightmares for life.

That's a B-52s Record Back There

Here's a photo of me at work last year and a photo of me this year.

I ran into a friend at a diner this weekend, and when she saw me, she said, "Why do you look like a super-villain?
I hadn't thought about it before, but I suppose she's right. 
It's time to shave. 

Is that the way it feels for you, 'cause that's the way it feels for me

The older gentleman in the background can actually see what Ike's thinking about.

I have this friend, right. Just for the sake of storytelling, let's call him "Ike."
Occasionally, and much to his friends' collective amusement, Ike will admit openly to some of his musical-related guilty pleasures--the stuff of this world that he knows to be widely accepted as garbage, yet somehow he loves it anyway. 
Late-period Rush, for example.
Now, a modicum of shame prevents me from running out and telling the world that I'm okay with all of the Rush albums up to Power Windows, and seriously, that's pushing it (I'm sort of ashamed that I can even call up the name of a Rush record so late). But Ike, he'll readily proclaim the merits of Roll the Bones.
Did you hear me? I said ROLL THE BONES. That's the one where Rush raps.

And as much as I detest the mere existence of that album, I have to admit ... I love that Ike digs it. It doesn't make the record any better, but I no longer feel the urge to DeLorean myself back to '91 in an effort to prevent that stain on earth from happening. I wouldn't take it away from Ike. He needs it.

Anyway, I've been thinking about guilty pleasures. And I've got a doosey.
Today, I was thinking about some of the old punk shows I saw at the original 9:30, and then I started thinking about the not-at-all-punk shows I saw there, too.
I saw Poi Dog Pondering. It's true.
I saw Peter Murphy (solo). Yep. That happened.
I saw Third Bass. What's up, Serch? 

And one time I saw this band (that I swear no one remembers) called The Pursuit of Happiness.

If you try to listen to their record, Love Junk, in its entirety, you will hate me. 
You will. 
If you had inkling of respect for me and my opinions on music, all of it will whither and die on the spot. Moreover, if you attempt to watch a video by this band, you will probably murder me. The only video I've ever seen by them was embarrassing to the level of Billy Squire's "Rock Me Tonite." (Alright, maybe not that bad, but close enough.)

Yet, tonight (properly spelled) I listened to "Ten Fingers" by The Pursuit of Happiness and thought, Man, this is my jam.
The lyrics are awful. Simply AWFUL. So corny. IMMEDIATELY CORNY. And those vocals are way up front. No hidin' them things.

So what is it about a guilty pleasure? If this was on the radio and I was in a car all by myself, what is it about this song (a song I know to be absurd and terrible) that would compel me to turn the volume all the way up?

I think it's the backing vocals. It's gotta be the backing vocals.

If Ike can admit to "Roll the Bones," I suppose I can be brave too. 
I'll go ahead and claim "Ten Fingers."

Let the ridicule begin. I deserve it.

NEW TRICK!

Staying current, relevant, and innovative is part of the gig when it comes to skateboarding. You've got to continually push yourself to the extreme, break beyond the boundaries, tear down the walls, unlock the imagination, think OUTSIDE of the box, (insert your own platitudes and clichés here).

Then, once you're in the zone, once you're really feelin' it and riding blindly, new tricks like these spring to life pretty easily.

Introducing the Backside-Brief-Wheelie-Landing-Dismount-to-Bigfoot's-Walk-through-Woods

Fashionable Noggin Protection: Hardcore Skaters and Their Designated Lids Storm the Bowl in Greenbelt

When you see three menacing guys in their 40s standing around the bowl all wearing helmets that match their clothes perfectly, you may want to just step aside. 
Only the truly hardcore can roll like this.

Crowds and Odors at the Palace of Versailles

After returning from Europe, I've tried a few times to compile the videos and photos taken into one watchable movie to show the teeming masses of friends and family who have asked (earnestly, mind you), "How was your trip?" There have been a couple of problems, however, in crafting, culminating, and completing such a mammoth undertaking:

1. Compiling and editing a movie is hard as all get-out.
2. Compiling and editing a movie that isn't mind-numbingly boring for the viewing public is even harder.

With that being said, I've decided to head into a new direction with this project:

Perhaps it'll be better to share short bursts of movie clips from this journey abroad whenever I feel like it, and only after I've had time to edit the clips appropriately for audience amusement. The hope is that I will avoid making the modern equivalent of some wearisome, meandering, go-nowhere super-8 family vacation footage, and the viewing public won't want to hunt me down and kill me for boring them to tears.

So, the video clip below is my attempt to quickly detail the time Erin and I went to Versailles in December of 2013.

• We began the day by boarding a crowded train bombarded in an instant with musicians. 
• We waited in a line at the golden palace gates for almost 2 hours. 
• We walked around one of the most beautiful and breathtaking landscapes on the planet.
• We saw some amazingly old and opulent stuff, while simultaneously having the misfortune of wallowing in another human's flatulence.

Behold! Versailles in roughly 2.5 minutes!

Shredding in C.P.

Layback Nap-slide beyond the coping. Photo: E.F. Mitchell

Lately, skating's been good.
Todd M. called me back in November, saying that he and Linc were headed over to GSL to skate. He asked if I wanted to come along, but considering my 3000 dollar grill and the fact that I hadn't even looked at a skateboard in over five years, I hesitated. 
However, after hemming and hawing for a few minutes, I ended up driving out to Northeast just to watch the session. "Watch" being the key word here.

Todd M. brought an extra board for me (just in case), but I didn't even touch it. In fact, I think I told him to leave it in his car. GSL was intimidating, some old rippers were there ragin' away, and there was no way I was going near that bowl without a helmet and knee pads. 
But here's the thing ... everyone was super nice and supportive and awesome. 
I immediately wanted to join in.

So I've been skating again. There ya' have it.

I suppose it was only a matter of time before some footage of me appeared online. Fortunately, E. F. Mitch was on hand to capture me tearing it up at the College Park bowl. 

This clip should blow your mind. You may want to select the full-screen option because you're not gonna want to miss the gnarly details.
Enjoy.