Don't Move Here

Film: The tangible memory.

2010-04-29T20:33:00.003-04:00

I forgot I did most of these things or went to any of these places. Luckily I had some still shots to jog my memory, and these are much better stills than the ones that occur when blacking out.

Along the Charles River. Two people necking.

Nobska Light. Woods Hole, MA.

Bought this "grow a plant" kit for $1.99.

My best friend Tom and I at the Apple Orchard we grew up near. Perfect afternoon.

Tom. He's technologically sophisticated. I think his phone can launch space ships.

These were the only solid ones in the role. Here are the rest

Deer Ticket

2010-04-16T10:28:00.001-04:00

"Excuse me, excuuse me. I'm on the guest list. My son is playing tonight, John, John McCauley." Mrs. McCauley announced that as she walked up the stairs on April 2 at Jerky's in Providence. Doors creaked open at 8:00p.m. Narragansetts were only $2.50, which was a killer score. Unfortunately nothing happened until 10:00p.m. Fortunately for me, I linked up with my buddy Al, of El Scarehouse, and went over to his place just a few blocks away to have a few more Gansetts with some of his good friends.

Jerky's is a bar. Period end of sentence. No, but truly, what that means is shows do not start until after 10:00p.m., and end just before 2:00a.m. Considering Jerky's dive-esque resemblance, the show was a rowdy and the crowd a bunch of stiffs. Just like the obnoxious and fat, 30+ year old, sweaty bald guy at hardcore and Dinosaur Jr. shows. There was the physically different, equally intolerable Rivers Cuomo look alike with long, perfectly manicured long hair and five o'clock shadow, blocking any attempts at successful dancing/dosey doeing.

With the exception of Rivers shutting down the fun factor, Those Darlins opened up the night. Take three parts chick, one part dude on drums, one part hairy pits, add a pinch of Tennessee and it equates to a solid, female fronted rock 'n' roll band. With a side of twang. Just for good measure.

Deer Tick played an incredible set. I tried to capture them on video. My camera is horrible. The audio and video isn't very stimulating, but it gets the point across.

Catching Up: With Zina Renze

2010-04-01T00:32:00.001-04:00

There are many shapes and sizes of Spam. My favorite comes in a 12 oz square. It isn't as funny as the kind below.

"You never responded, so you must be queer."

March Radness.

2010-03-30T22:43:00.000-04:00

Not really. Although, there have been some great things happening in the month of March. Like when a girl I work with forces out this guttural cough on Monday mornings between 9:15 a.m. and 11:30 a.m.. In all honesty it only occurs between that 2 hour and 15 minute stretch on Mondays. Yuck. Working in an office cracks me up. There are a lot of things funnier than two people that share offices side-by-side and call each other on their lines to chat about the weekend, but that one is pretty damn funny. My favorite office related quote thus far has been, "I think I'm going to stay later this week. I stayed late last week and got, like, SO much work done." Which came immediately after three hours. Yes, three hours, chatting about various weekend goings on. Incredible. Needless to say, and rather obvious, office work, is not like The Office, what-so-ever. Yet, I do enjoy each aspect of office life. Especially wearing them fancy clothes.

Back, oh I don't know, three weeks ago now? Yeah, that sounds about right. I mailed in my Peace Corps Medical Package. That was a weight carried away. Like Xzibit carries the weight, hard.

Ready Freddy.

Mailing this out, rocked.

Boston continues to occupy the better half of my weeks. In all sense of the term. Friday, March 19th was a killer night in particular. We biked across town towards South Station to hit up a gallery opening for my buddy Sherman. Wedged between a serious dive bar and across the street its polar opposite, the Lot F Gallery on 145 Pearl St. Apt 4 winds itself up a wide, yet narrow and steep staircase to an apartment gallery. Run by Felipe Ortiz? I think. Maybe. Or not, a dude that lives there. There might be a bedroom there somewhere. Either way. Showing from 7:00p.m. to 11:00p.m. the 4D show featured Glass pieces, paintings, robotic action figures, and poorly painted skateboards. Free beer was provided for anyone with I.D., which was killer, and an ill turn out. Anyway. Here are the pictures of Sherman's work I snipped from my buddy Austin M. Steele's spacebook.

Cast Train, Graffitti.

SOLD. Booyaa.

Sherm. Yo.

Reefer.

A guy lives here. Confirmed.

His name is Daniel Sherman. A nice dude. Even if he rides an Alumninum Garneau.

The Institute of Life: Friday Night in Picture/Essay Form

2010-03-13T14:28:00.000-05:00

Sleep comes at the strangest times of day. At twenty-three it should come late at night or in the middle of the day, somewhere between 2:00p.m. and 4:00 p.m., certainly not 6:00p.m. The sun had not even set for the day and I was coereced to a nap from heavy eyelids. Rain had washed out the latter half of the afternoon, but that could not be a jusitifable excuse. An early dinner consisted of a sausage, peppers, and meat sauce soup concoction with an MM Brownie for dessert. Neither of which would cause a food induced coma. At loss for what brought my head to the pillow so early. I resigned to its soft comfort with ease and music. One half hour appeared to be all I needed in my mind. My body, on the other pillow, determined an hour and seventeen minutes would be an adequate amount of rest. "Shit," I shouted. "Not going to make that film now." I sat down to call my brother back after I missed a call and had a moment of brilliance. I grabbed the newspaper, checked the movie listings for the Nickelodean Theatre down the road and readjusted my plans. An Education was playing at 9:15p.m. It was now 8:45p.m. I had a half hour to get a beer, devise a plan to sneak it in and enjoy the film. Success. Here is the rest in picture/photo.

Scored this in XXL or 24 Oh Zs. $2.25.

Watched this, An Education. For $9.00.

A review will follow suit later this evening.

"That girl we just passed by, yeah, I saw her add on Craigslist once"

2010-03-11T00:16:00.000-05:00

As far as I'm concerned Craigslist.com is to be considered a media and/or entertainment outlet. Admittedly, I once, or several times, attempted the use of Craigslist.com for finding romance backslash friendship. Both of which situations I can easily rationalize as to not sound like a complete zero.

My first Craigslist.com experience began when I was moving to San Clemente, CA for the summer for an internship. My friends that I would be living with were 24 or older. I was 21 and continued - continue - to look like I'm going into my senior year of high school. The easiest solution to hanging with some people my age was to use my Craig's List, I figured he had all the match.com stuff dialed without the technical details and red tape. Boy was I wrong. A simple "ad" explained what I was doing there and that I wanted to hang out with some people that skated and maybe even a girl. Not too much to ask for. I first received a response asking me to masturbate in front of a camera at random, probably death trap, studio somewhere on the Pacific Coast. Or even worse, along the Inland Empire, no one would ever find me in that desert of Hellish Earth. Here I encountered my first road block to friendship known as Spam. I wished it was that kind. Several Spam attacks later, I had an e-mail from a man offering to perform falacio on me. Non-reciprocal falacio, disgusting any way you spin in it. If only I was this naive. Well, I called it quits upon that request and gave up hope.

Boston, MA 2009. Friends are great company, but not cuddlers. Instead, I strived for success on the net. Fail. I conversed with two women via e-mail that both appeared normal. One had an excellent palate for music with ample book interests as well. She was kind, but forceful. Wanted to meet immediately and also get tickets to a Regina Spektor show that was not for another three months, and was quite larger than me in size. Delete! Victim two, she was the opposite in visuals and in musical comprehension. Tool, Shovelhead, Soggy Slipper, or whatever those wretched bands are were her "Favs." American Eagle also employed her. Denied! I gave up, whole-heartedly.

Instead I began resorting to Craigslist.com as an avenue of atrocities. Some hilarious, other quite depressing. Refining my comic criteria to; age 18-25, 30+ if need be, and pic for sure. These became tools for success. Each week for an entire month I found a girl that was the hostess where I worked there with a post. It made me feel bad, not for her, but for the fact that I knew what she wanted and saw her confession for love. Maybe I felt guilty. I'm not sure, but I knew it was strange. I also found a young man I went to high school with, because as is to be seen in the pictures below, I outsourced from Boston to the United States of America. It had been quite rainy for the majority of the summer, which made me dormant during the evenings. In turn, a great time for mindless self indulgence. Tracking down Spam across state lines became habitual. The same girl showed up in NYC, DC, and San Diego all within a few days of each posting. She was not the only one. While the obsession of entertainment has come to a slow, it's not stagnant. Here are a few good ones I found between yesterday and today. Enjoy

Likes: The sound of babies crying, bad boys, and eating cat food.

Dislikes: Daylight, wimps, and LOWERCASE LETTERS.

Likes: Her self, "integrity, honest, and loyalty above all else," and being somewhat intellectual.

Dislikes: Multiple baby mamma drama, single baby mamma drama is cool though, correct grammar, and Warlocks.

Likes: Unintentional irony, lying, and bead-board paneling.

Dislikes: Games, cognitive husbands, and good posture.

The Reverse-Glacial-Pace of Staying Busy

2010-03-09T00:42:00.001-05:00

If a Glacial Pace is measured by the rise of sea level (SLR) with the consequence of glaciers melting, then measuring time in the form of SLR increments would feel as though one hundred years passed since an event had taken place. That is, of course, if a person was using the glaciers of Greenland as their Atomic Clock for the countdown to boredom induced insanity, then yes, some days and weeks would feel much longer than others. However, there is a reverse button on the sedateometer. It isn't quite tangible, though it can be and will be discussed later, rather the swiftometer comes in the form of occupying time with work and wonder.

November through January were enjoyable. There is no doubt about that. Only they were slower months, days, that consisted of work, cold weather, and not having a firm direction. With a long and pleasant interview on January 13th, I received a nod and wink as a Peace Corps Nominee for a potential departure of June 2010 to Sub-Saharan Africa. Subsequent to this exciting opportunity, I was to complete an extensive Medical and Dental Review along with gaining more volunteer experience. Eager to gain a step ahead in the list of candidates, I contacted Big Brothers Big Sisters of Massachusetts Bay and set a schedule to help work within the offices. Working in their office would be a great way to understand how an organization of this caliber works, but I knew it would not be sufficient. Through some research and recommendations, I discovered the Volunteers In Public Schools program in Falmouth. Several background checks later and I have been working at both organizations. The VIPS program has been killer. I work in several classrooms helping 4th - 7th graders with their English skills to gain a step ahead and an appreciation for our language. Aside from both of these I've been working as tutor for English as a Second Language with a young Jamaican man, roughly 19 years old. He has not received a firm grasp on English. We have been working with the ABCs and trying to do phonics styled exercises. A Barnum and Bailey's Tiger Trainer would have a better chance at teaching him than I would, considering my lack of teaching experience, but we are gaining some speed. It is glacial one could say, although the equation of each of these experiences makes for life to be rather expedited.

While these "professional" tasks have occupied the majority of my time, the weekends are savored at a pace the proverbial tortoise would ridicule. When Loverboy sang, Everybody's Working for the Weekend, I'm confident that his lyrics were, and still remain, true that everybody is, in fact, working strictly for the those two measly days off. Quick as they may come, each hour should be the best hour of the day. Three weekends are now locked into my history and with them I stole the chance, this is where the tangible aspect is delivered, to savor the suns balmy winter gaze, dodge potholes across Boston, wake up a little earlier, breath easier, and laugh with the company of my friends. The following role of film captures each of these weeks that went by too quick, when all I wanted was to add a just a fraction of a second to each of these moments and enjoy them for a several more fleeting minutes.

Sunset at NOAA Lab Dock. Woods Hole, MA

Each Tuesday the Cape Cod Classifieds posts New For You Today. It is a list of free and for sale items.

One was for a book sale at the Marstons Mills, MA Library on a Saturday. Planned my whole day around it.

At a castle above Union Square, Somerville, MA. Birthday bike ride for Charles in the "B" hat.

Same. L to R. Kyle, Chuck, Wil, Me.

Kyle and dolly. Miss Geo, the band pictured, from Providence, RI. Filmed in Southie duhde, MA.

Quick breather. Song being filmed, Hooked.

"Oh! Can you take my picture in the blue chair against the blue wall later?"

Happy as boy on any bike. Southie hey, MA

To see the remainder of the role click here

Good day Sunshine!

2010-03-05T12:51:00.001-05:00

Rain and snow has plagued Cape Cod for the last three weeks. There have been several instances where the air was clear of precipitation, however, the majority of the time it has been wet. Winter on Cape Cod can be rather whelming; it is constantly hovering around 32 farenheight, grey, 20-30 knots of wind on any given day, and wet. Now, at least three days a week there is a break in the weather and the sun is brought back into existence. This has not been the case, which means any form of traveling outdoors is horrible. The car's floor is perpetually wet, making it smell, cycling is not possible as the temperature, wind, and weather equate to a miserable time spent pedaling against all of these, at full force. Reading, on the other hand, can be enjoyed thoroughly, except it causes a large strain on the eyes. I found this out quickly and had to put a cap on that. The precipitation has subsided, the clouds began parting and I checked the NOAA weather report, two words, Hell Yeah! It looks as though the cycle has been broken for the next several days, but I am confident that it is only to be the calm before the true rainy season of a Cape Cod spring, at least the air will be warmer.

I'm just hoping it stops doing this...

...And starts looking more like that.

Halloween in February!

2010-02-17T11:47:00.000-05:00

For those that have consistent internet, be grateful. Be very grateful. Being sans internet for almost the entirety of my stay at Hotel Beriau it is hard to communicate with anyone over the bridge, because no-one enjoys talking on the phone anymore, and texting, well texting is just plain dumb. Microsoft Word even registers its spelling incorrect. How is one supposed to have a formal conversation within 160 characters. Characters, not even words or letters, but characters. I think the whole concept is ridiculous. Neway, heres a hpy Hllwn bke vdo frm, well, Hllwn.

Off Road

2010-02-11T21:24:00.002-05:00

Only addicts have addictive personalities, right? Wrong. Adventurers have addictive tendencies. I, of course, would be one of those kind of people. Only, I find there is a difference between having addictive tendencies and going through phases, which is what an addiction can often equate to; especially when it concerns an activity or a drug. Age can also constitute reasoning behind a phase, fortunately I don't do drugs and I've never really gone through any phases, except when I thought I liked hip-hop and Le Tigre, which is the strangest of polar opposites. Regardless, cycling has always been something I've been relatively tied to since my brother first tried me to hit the jump on our street and my buddy John taught me how to skid. He had a Mudzilla, still the coolest bicycle I have ever seen. Though I was never engaged in any technical form of cycling, such as racing or repairing, I've always loved riding bikes. No matter where a person travels, I am convinced the single act of pedaling to the destination, alone, makes the whole trip that more engaging and expedition-esque.

There is always a new shortcut to weave down or a bump to catch a little hang-time on, a bird to keep pace with or a quiet spot to stop and admire the natural world. I've been riding virtually the same route for the last three months, but here and there curiosity tackles my mental clock and allows me to venture where I please. As the places of wonder build up on my "to explore list," I love nothing more than imagining when the best time to come back is, how the light will change its appearance, or what it will look like with a full yard of grass. These wonders that seep into my imagination collect and grow like a stalactite's slow calcium carbonate skeletal formation. When the stalactite of my curiosity grows no longer, I load my camera with film and begin the standard route, patiently mapping out the time to shoot.

January and early February were months laden with cycling across town and into Woods Hole. The temperatures increased significantly the week of January 18th, which allowed me the pleasure of cycling without multiple layers and cold feet. I spent these days mapping out and collecting locations of curiosity; carefully selecting the right time of day, where the sun might be, how the snow would effect it, to shoot vertical or horizontal, and how to get to the location. The following five photographs are the ones I am most pleased about from my most recent returned roll of film. Don't stop wondering, at least I think that is what this guy said.

To see the remainder of the role click.

Hotel Beriau B/W Holy Cow

2010-02-10T20:08:00.002-05:00

Three months, nine days, and six hours have elapsed since I moved back in with my parents. Even more time has occurred since I last posted anything here, my apologies. Not that it is a significant loss to anyone, or that anyone truly missed reading the posts. Regardless, Cape Cod has seen two snowstorms this winter. The first in December and the second today. While flora and fauna have been constipated for the majority of the winter, I have taken advantage of their respectively clogged areas in order to grace the unadulterated pavement with my bicycle tires. We, being me, myself and I, three people I have become severely acquainted with over these past months, will get back to that topic in a minute.

To provide a form of purpose to this re-introduction, or explanation rather, I was at home last night working with my sewing machine and thought that it may be fun to make use of this blog space for the time being. With no real "point" to having the blog, I figured it might be a great way to occupy some spare time and introduce a little variety into my routine. Said routine involves: waking up, taking a pee without washing my hands, making a pot of coffee and bowl of oatmeal, retrieving the newspaper while breakfast is being prepared. Following each of these tasks, I check my facebook, "Well, nothing for me to reply to, nice," then I peruse the links to the right of this here blog, give or take a few, decide thirty-minutes is too much time on the net, take a poop, wash hands, brush teeth, shower, and warmup the car. My day becomes real simple after this, work from 2:00 p.m. to 7:30 p.m., come home, make/eat diner, read/TV, bed. My day of is a little more interesting. Same morning routine followed by a bicycle ride to the library then onwards to the coffee shop or into Woods Hole and eventually home. That trip is roughly a 20-mile roundtrip ride that is filled with gorgeous views of the constantly changing Atlantic Ocean, several harbors, weaving between boats on stantions, and an amazing bike trail. Each of which have photos coming tomorrow once my film is developed.

Now that we all have an understanding of where I have been, I will explain the Hotel Beriau. Thankfully I have a great family and they allowed me to move in for a few months after I got into a rent paying pinch in Boston as my job was coming to an end and unemployment is climbing. I call it Hotel Beriau because I only use four rooms here: bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room. All of these rooms equate to the bare necessities of a hotel with a kitchenette. It has been excellent though. My father is the head chef at a restaurant that closes for the month of January, which allows him to spend the month with my mother in N.H., where she works and he skis. This is why I've been acquainted with my three selves. I'm pretty good company, though sometimes Myself gets lazy and wants to watch TV when I want to read and Me is just the deliberator.

While my routine may seem a bore to some, I have been busy on and off Cape since I moved back. As soon as Loon opened I had been up there at least twice a week, as evidenced by Tom Johnson over at his blog. I stopped heading up there after the season finale of Jersey Shore, which was a huge letdown, unlike this picture. On that note. We should be caught up. I work at a deli named Lambert's. Picture-heavy post tomorrow.

Owen American Football a little credit

2009-09-23T17:03:00.005-04:00

New father and jack-of-many previous bands, Mike Kinsella released his fifth Owen album, "New Leaves," on September 22. The ten-track record, released by Polyvinyl, displays a more reserved and structured Owen that resembles his work with American Football.

The title track, "New Leaves," opens the album with a soft instrumental portion as Kristina Dutton plays the violin alongside Kinsella's gentle croon. The quiet lull of Dutton's violin accompanies a simple plucking and strumming rhythm as the lyrics cue. Kinsella's signature crescendo pattern carries the track through a solid introduction of what the remaining nine tracks offer.

Ever observant, Kinsella also becomes reflective of his buddies with, "Good Friends, Bad Habits." Supported by a consistent foot-tapping cadence from a drum machine, Kinsella acknowledges his gained maturity when he sings, "Sometimes, like every time a train passes I get jealous of the long nights, the blurred lights, the red eyes, and bar fights." It becomes understood that Kinsella is moving forward with his music and life.

Dutton's drawling violin lingers steadily in the background of, " A Trenchant Critique." Stripped down with only guitar, violin and Andy Rader's Stand Up Bass, the track is one of the albums simplified highlights as the violin carries the song through a whispered taper in its completion.

"Never Been Born" and "Amnesia and Me" are two killer compositions that appear to draw a strong influence from Kinsella's American Football days. Heavily laced with violins and feedback on "Amnesia and Me," each track shares similarities towards a new progression for Owen.

Bringing the album back towards its expected sound is, "Brown Hair in a Birds Nest." Slow and wandering with guitar, Kinsella strums along gently as the track moves into the addition of Rader on Stand Up Bass and Gillian Lisee humming in the background. Becoming noisy as the instruments culminate into one melody, the energy of its build dissipates equally as quickly as the initial rise in volume.

Tracks seven and eight, "Too Scared to Move" and "The Only Child of Aergia," loose some of the albums initial charm. The large use violin and feedback become redundant, making the tracks sound similar and less developed.

The slow, yet catchy "Ugly on the Inside" makes for a large rebuttal against the previous two tracks. As the song gains momentum, the brief piano from Kinsella's cousin, Nate Kinsella, harmonizes well with Kinsella's playing. Waning out of the track, the guitar remains upbeat as it slowly fades away.

Light drums begin the album closer, "Curtain Call." A relaxed guitar build brings the lyrics up where Kinsella becomes reflective of past performances as he sings, "People used to pay to watch me sing and play, but it seems more and more they come to spit in my face." One of the better-orchestrated pieces, Kinsella again, touches on the sounds of his American Football glory days. The addition Dutton's violin creates a well-assembled melody to close Owen's latest effort.

Released on both CD and Vinyl, "New Leaves" is an album that takes several spins to appreciate, though it’s certainly worth the listen. Presenting itself with the qualms of becoming a father and husband, it is clear that Kinsella is moving Owen in a more sophisticated direction, while keeping the basic ingredients intact.

Tune Into the A.M. Volume One

2009-09-16T15:04:00.006-04:00

In an attempt to call it an early night last evening, I became erroneous in my aims of going to sleep at my designated bedtime of 11:00 p.m.. Teeth brushed and P.J.'s on at eleven, I ventured through my pre-sleep routine of my Bookmarks Toolbar. At a loss of interesting, or updated, information through my websites of choice, I clicked a link on the Superb Bicycle blog, and noticed their own selection of preferred links. Upon the first five links was Bostonbiker.org. Initially, I figured I'd scroll through the news section of the page, read some updates on events/bicycle related topics concerning Boston, and call it a night. I thought wrong.

Boston Biker's site led me over to Boston Bike Polo's blog where I proceeded to learn more about that and where it takes place in the city. An appealing option to traditional Polo and cycling in general. Regardless of what I learned here, I was led to the Boston Fixed Gear Forum, a place I've visited once before. Quite briefly at that, as most bike forums spend five comments actually discussing the problem or question at hand and 2000 plus comments dissing on someone's whip. I scrolled through the discussion where I discovered "The Ride to Work/School/Wherever Thread." Reading over the various, fall related morning commutes I was psyched to hear about everyone's early morning commutes. The discussion swayed from face-melting through the underpass on Mass Ave. to simply cruising along Memorial Dr.. Spanning a time frame of 20 days, each post mentioned the glorious feeling of the cool autumn air and the freedom of the low commuter/cyclist ratio.

Inspired by the notion of having a gorgeous early ride through the city without the qualms of being struck by a car going through the Mass Ave. underpass at Huntington Ave. Following this triumph of mental cycling pleasure as I imagined what it would feel like to cruise across the city unadulterated by the threats of ignorant pedestrians and crazed commuters, I set my alarm for 5:50 a.m. and got a pot of coffee ready.

Crawling into bed just after 12:30 a.m. with two alarms set I missed the opportunity to fall completely asleep as the feeling of complete fatigue disappeared an hour and a half before. Drowsing off sometime before my wake up call, I faded in and out until my alarm clock radio went off. Hitting the floor promptly at 5:53 a.m., I took my ritual morning urine, flip the coffee pot to on, and began organizing my pack.

Aware that I wouldn't be out much long than an hour, I packed simply. A digital camera, 35mm SLR, and a U-lock were the only tools I needed for the trek. With jeans, a hoodie and a flannel on, what a feeling of warmth and cold, I set my bike lights to "on" and began my journey. Passing several joggers in front of the house, the suns rising illuminated the Mission Hill Church spires in a strange, crepuscular glow. Behind the church, clouds began to break as early dawn crept over. Light was still quite dark, street lights remained on and the traffic was low, very low. I pedaled towards the hilly side of Calumet, which goes steep and straight into Huntington. At full speed with no reserve, I pedaled hard into Huntington only letting out several skids for control. Blasting through the intersection without the panic of traffic swarming from all directions, my body snapped itself awake with exhilaration.

Each set of lights was a like a time challenge. A walk signal flashed it's countdown, a light turned yellow and I pedaled harder. Passing the MFA at maximum velocity, I raged through the intersection at Parker St. and began a cool down before the Mass Ave./Huntington Ave. underpass. A split second traffic check over the left shoulder and I was face melting under the pass sans hands and totally stoked.

I poked into Shaw's at the Prudential Center for some batteries and sent a gentle cruise down Boylston St. The morning light continued to breath life into the new day as pedestrians, cars and careerists became more abundant. I paused for a photo opportunity at the common before cruising towards Downtown Crossing and stopping at the Federal Building to shoot photo's/videos of people purchasing fruit from the cart. I had a brief, yet polite conversation with the vendor. He recommended I venture towards Fish Pier for some more shots of "Early Morning City Life." I purchased two bananas, said "thank you for letting me take some photos," and made my way out.

A strong headwind worked against me on Seaport Blvd., but I continued to pedal through the breeze. Setup and ready to shoot the fisherman unloading their cargo, packers filling boxes and trucks hauling the loads out for delivers, I was interrupted by a woman. Dressed in a red Massport crewneck, faded blue-jeans with spiky dyed-red hair and an abundant supply of makeup, she informed me I was not allowed to take photographs on Massport property. Strange. Leaving the Fish Pier for an even earlier attack in the near future, I went around to the Bank of America pavilion, at my banana, shot several more photo's and came home; slow, steady and stoked.

July In a Nut Shell

2009-08-24T20:09:00.008-04:00

Coming out of June as tsunami survivors, we sweated out July with an insatiable quest for fun on all fronts. The Tall Ships made their way into port, no thanks to Menino, which equated to Sean and I working a six-day series of doubles sans photos or glances of the ships other than those caught from the boat as the D.J. for the cruise narrated the two-hour journey around the harbor.

The middle of the month continued to bring us daily treks to The Arboretum and Jamaica Pond as well as a new location, Castle Island. Located at Pleasure Bay in Southie, Castle Island was built in 1643 and later renamed Fort Independence. Serving as Boston's first military base, it was also used for the protection of the Massachusetts Royal Administration's family members. The twenty-two acre fort now serves as an excellent spot to have a picnic or go fishing.

Though the city has it's benefits in the summer, it's still necessary to bust out of Dodge and take a quick vacation elsewhere. That's where Provincetown came in. We rendezvoused at Race Point beach, introduce bonfire, and lounged around P-Town for a few days. Itching to permanently stay real, I decided to stop into Mooncusser Tattoo and have my feet done, or whatever they call it. Our buddy Ty works the desk there and set me up to Get Real with Marty, one of the shops visiting artist. Marty hooked it up real nice and I was out in an hour. Sean and I gathered up our gear and went out separate ways, he to Boston, me homeward bound to Falmouth.

The latter half of July was consumed by four-day vacations and horrible hours at work. With the exception of work, the four-day vacations were welcomed with open minds as we gathered up everyone to blast trips throughout the entire city and the 'burbs. Castle Island was back on the map as well as a trip to the Quincy Quarries, which is a killer spot, but real grimy. Unused for at least the last twenty years, the Quarries are a cesspool of rainwater, motor oil, rubbish and most likely rubbers, but it's a damn good spot to cool off. Laced with graffiti and featuring several jump-off spots, so to speak, the quarry ride is by far the best trek in the city.

The landlord is coming, the landlord is coming!

2009-06-26T11:48:00.006-04:00

Flying well under the radar for the last month and a half, Sean and I are to hide for several hours today while the landlord comes for a visit with the Board of Health or National Grid. Apparently over the winter the gas tank in the basement sprung a leak, resulting in a $2,500(+) bill that everyone else in Apt 1 were to pay. Fortunately, they had their wits about them and managed to finagle a deal with National Grid that pulled them out of the mess and threw our landlady in. It is interesting though, as no one really knows why she is coming today or whom exactly with. Tiffany is quite vague when it comes to these procedures. From what I've gathered, she sucks. Plain and simple. She is constantly seeking out a way to upset the status of our apartment without going through her boss because she lives in fear of him. Sad life.

In other non-lease living related news. The following video is a collection of moving pictures related to the previous post. The video spans the confines of my three preferred areas of travel or most frequented, which happens to cover one end of the city to the other. From Jamaica Pond to our backyard, ending at Battery Wharf by the North End.

What's up, Date.

2009-06-19T11:54:00.012-04:00

June is always a temperamental month in New England and Boston is certainly no exception to the rule. Bordered by twenty miles (giver or take five) of coastline, the city is largely affected by the Poseidon's mood; causing some days to be gorgeous while others are ugly. Spring came in strong for between May and the early part of June, though as of late the weather has been quite inclement. For the luck of my adventures, Poseidon's irascible behavior appears to subside when work is not in the forecast; leaving me the option of exploring the natural wonders of Suffolk County. The following photos are a glimpse at what has transpired in the last week and a half.
Mon., June 15, Sean, Kyle, Chuck and I decided to construct a garden bed in our backyard. A motley mix of onions, tomatoes and basil and carrots will be grown alongside several wildflowers and Sean's sunflower; Ruth.Intending on making a trip to the Arnold Arboretum for a day of reading and relaxing, the real R&R, Chuck and I cut our route short to stop off at Jamaica Pond for a short time. Almost splitting the line between Jamaica Plain and Brookline, J-Pond presented itself to be an adequate replacement activity for the Arboretum. Clear water laps the edges of the nearly half-mile length of the pond and fishing is allowed, which means I'm due for a pole now. The park also casts a brief glimpse of the Prudential Center. A paved trail meanders around the circumference, shaded by trees and lined with plenty of park benches for R&R. Some steals found during trash hunt Tuesday: Lionel Richie looking damn fine, "To Build a Fire" on L.P., "The Monkey's Paw," one Yes album, one "Saturday Night Fever" soundtrack and that is just to name a few of the records I managed to snag. The only problem is that I'm led to believe the Jah Rasta neighbor thinks I'm a vagabond. He committed to his spot on the stoop of his home while watching me riffle through the records he set out. Bare footed, gym shorts and a tank top, he must have marveled at how I managed a self-phone; never mind a record player.
A second peep at our garden in its formative state, which now includes lattice work or Cape Cod beach fence found during trash hunt Tuesday.

Sean, his ex-girlfriend and I went out for a game of Frisbee in late May. This amazing park, Kevin Fitzgerald Park, is located literally twenty yards from our house. Puddingstone Park, as we deemed it, is filled with large rocks created in river beds and other locations held together by a matrix like quartz sand. The spires on the church in the background were cut from Puddingstone found in the Boston area.

Internal Homeland Security Level: Severe

2009-06-15T10:35:00.018-04:00

Living in a country that's facing "change" and a city that appears to be "cleaning up" by the day, it would be hoped that the benefits of these terms would be more than purely aesthetic. Adverse with these terms is the truth that neither city nor country are striving for a severance from fear and anxiety, both of which feel somewhat synonymous for "change" and "cleaning up." Why is it though, that these suspicions develop? Frequently riding the T, specifically the Orange Line, may have something to do with this newly acquired apprehensiveness.

Whatever the time of day it may be there is always a delay to be expected on the Orange Line, to the point that questioning it's possible delay is game-esque. Each work day Sean I found ourselves taking bets, gentleman's of course, on how late and why the T just can't seem to make it. Days that begin with, "There has been a police action at (fill in the stop name here), the next train to Oak Grove will be here shortly", typically have me dripping with the jitters until we make it to State. The long, loud blasts underground between stops instills a fear in me that at any moment, from any direction, an explosion from a pipe bomb in one of the cars is about to come barreling towards our car. I do have to credit the MBTA though, as fear inducing delays only occur once or twice a week and usually pertain to troublemakers or thieves.

Relief had set in for a week of tension free riding, albeit last evening I was heavily injected with fear on the ride home from work; sans Sean. Catching the Orange Line Outbound from State, I took a seat on the third bench to the left as you enter the terminal. Seated next to two women in conversation, a young man, roughly twenty-three to twenty-eight looking, strolled by. Rather normal. Though this bearded young man, dressed in a grey college shirt, jeans and tan Adidas sneakers walked quite strange on his way by. Dragging and shuffling his feet, the young man began glaring from his peripherals as he approached. Fully turning his head as he passed, the young man began eyeballing the persons before the bench I was seated on. As he stared at the others on the bench and myself he did that strange, "I'm not eyeballing you, but I am eyeballing you" look; moving his head quickly when he acknowledge the furrowed looks shot back in his direction.

Shuffling his nosy self down the terminal, the woman seated next to me asked, "What's his problem?" I turned slightly and agreed back, "Yeah he needs to keep his eyes to himself." The woman and I laughed and resumed our separate lives, she engaging in a conversation with a friend on her left and I looking straight out to the tracks. Focused on nothing in general as the advertisements blurred, anxiety leaked into my thoughts, "this train is going to detonate." He passed by once again in the same asleep foot, rubbernecking' manner before the T came in.

The two ladies and I boarded the car in front of his and sat at the back end. A poor choice for the already paranoid mind. Without having a clear few of this peculiar man, my nerves tensed with every lurch and halt of the T. Downtown Crossing and Chinatown stops came through with little fear. The long pass of white noise from Chinatown to New England Medical had my panic saturated mind waiting for the moment a blast of heat, fire and nails (assuming he'd use a pipe bomb), to transpire in our car. Not knowing whether or not the young man had exited the train at this point continued to drive the nails of worry deeper into my Central Nervous System, to the point that I was ready to exit the train at Back Bay and walk the two miles back to Roxbury Crossing.

Ultimately I choked down my "Severe" rating to "Guarded" and proceeded to ride until my final destination, no pun intended. I survived the remainder of the ride unscathed and felt an instant pass of relief walking through the terminal gates as I exited onto Tremont St. The problem though, in retrospect, is not that I have a built of level of anxiety that around every corner is a potential threat to myself or other persons. Rather it's that these fears due occur and more so that, even in a post-9/11 America backslash world, I've never felt this society anxiety the way I now do. It alarms me how strange and sudden these fears have developed. Though to find some clarity, these anxieties come in the same aspect as walking home at night an someone is close behind. It's hard to determine if they are to be suspect or just as scared as you, like when a person says, "Oh snakes are just as scared of you as your are of them."

In essence, it seems these anxieties are a fear of the unknown, more so than anything else. Not knowing if the person seated next to you, rubbernecking is friend or foe, or if the person following you close from T stop is going to mug you, until noticing they live in the same building as you. These subtle observations of strange behavior still leave me wondering, "Am I to assume these people are dangerous?" And is that more safe for me? Or am I being ridiculously over cautious and these people are fearing the same things I am, maybe even about me." It will be sometime before these fears subside, but for now I'll practice the repetition of the Orange Line mantra-Eyes on the sign make Orange Line rides fine.

Paper Boy(s)

2009-06-11T21:25:00.005-04:00

Wednesday, June 17 will mark the first month Sean and I have lived in Boston. Over the last three weeks we've been exploring the city and it's benefits backslash distractions. From poking around and shopping to cruising on bikes and boards we've located some killer spots. Initially I had the intentions of repairing and refurbishing an ol' family heirloom bicycle that has been in my family since I was ten years old. The bike was manufactured by Western Auto Supply circa the 1970's, although I came across a little extra money apre´ graduation and purchased a new Mercier Kilo TT that will be here within several days. As I decided to purchase the Mercier, the WAS went on the back burner and will become my winter cycle. Sean on the other hand has been refurbishing a beautiful Raleigh classic and converted it to a 46t chainwheel x 15t fixed cog. Working diligently on keeping the classic vibe of his Raleigh, I decided to share in his excitment by filming a little bit of the process here and there. The following video is a culmination of the steps Seans taken towards making his cycle a little more official...

Greetings from the Outer South

2009-05-06T16:54:00.007-04:00

(p) Amazon.com

Conor Oberst’s discography has transcended the boundaries of his often-appreciated shaky voiced, emotive lyricism that captured the hearts of melodramatics over his career. His latest folk styled release, “Outer South,” has become more of a throwaway purchase than a staple in the collection. Released on Tues., May 5, by Merge Records, Oberst and his Mystic Valley Band produced the sixteen-track album that borders on the fringes of par to subpar.
Oberst and the boys open the album up with the folk jam, “Slowly (Oh So Slowly).” Reminiscent of “Danny Callahan,” off Oberst’s first solo project, the track is upbeat and works as a solid opener with its sing-along sections.
Taking a narrative route on the vocals, Oberst starts the track slow until Jason Boesel comes in on drums to increase the tempo, though the pace is still leisurely with its melodious guitars.
Climbing into the back seat of the tour van on, “Big Black Nothing,” Oberst allows his band mates the chance to highlight their vocals. Group vocals back up the singing on the track, matched with handclapping. A pop-country jam for sure, pianist, Nate Walcott, helps break up what could’ve been a monotonous jam.
“Air Mattress,” suffers a heavy keyboard enthused jam that echoes towards an indie-pop, Europe-enthused track. Paired with the vocals, the song is far cry from solid Oberst material.
As the tracks dwindle down, the album picks itself up off the shelf in the latter half. Tracks like the dance hall feel of “Cabbage Town,” “Nikorette” and “Bloodline” as background music to a BBQ, establish a mix of airy vocals, quick measures and Oberst’s apparent humbleness as the members continue to trade off on harmonies.
Between its hits, “Outer South” finds its slower side on tracks like, “Ten Women.” Dylan comparisons aside, Oberst’s voice adapts the prose lyricism and meandering guitar that create the frame for an authentic Oberst solo the album seems to be longing for.
While the album winds itself out on a steady, slow, repeat cycle for the last six tracks, the quality remains somewhat pleasing. “Spoiled,” begins with a calypso appeal, which gives hope for a head-swaying track, but begins to sound more like a Huey Lewis rip-off than an island inspired folk track.
Oberst seems to find strength in the familiar as the album polishes off with a style comparable to that of his self-titled effort with tracks like, “Eagle on a Pole.” Different in it’s sound, the track is a swift composition of deep vocal tones followed by, “I Got the Reason” and “Snake Hill,” both of which cap the album in a soul meets country-pop fashion that provide a mature sound for Oberst, which will hopefully be the future for his next release.

Beach Blanket Blips

2009-05-04T10:33:00.005-04:00

During the summer my roommates Tom, Reid, Andrew and I would often take trips to surf at "Trails" in San Onofre, CA. I usually participated in the Buena Vista Surf Club sessions, although I sliced my hand in our kitchen one evening and was unable to surf for the remainder of the summer; ultimately allowing me to fill the temporary position of BVSC Documentarian. It ended up only being one time I actually filmed, but it was still a fun way to spend the early evening session.

Merry Christmas from Jim Varney

2008-12-14T18:37:00.000-05:00

The New England things I took for granted this summer...

2008-09-24T00:22:00.007-04:00

Simply, Genuine clouds hovering over while enjoying a good ass drive

Seeing dudes like this at the corner of Belmont off exit 17.

More sweet ass driving.

and spotting the OZ Man in front of an Old Home.

Parades and Roller Blades

2008-08-13T15:20:00.002-04:00

I googled image searched dumb casino women and ended up finding a picture of my girlfriend and I amidst a parade...her feet over heated that day, luckily I had my camel back on.

Making their fight on the hill, in the late days

2008-08-11T01:03:00.004-04:00

Dang, talk about getting the Shaft. Sorry Lars...

A state that's untouchable like Elliot Ness

2008-07-29T19:52:00.004-04:00

Inside

Coffee and Weed...

Outside

Le Office de Snowboarder.

Remains of the Slay

2008-07-26T18:11:00.005-04:00

Yesterday night I came home from an impulse purchase of a new camera at staples. The problem was that I didn't really have anything to take pictures of just yet, which is why I decided to wash the last few dishes in the sink and slice my left ring finger for the sake of a photo project and an exciting Friday night...

The glass

The sink

The rag

The hospital

The hand

Ill publish

2007-12-08T01:04:00.000-05:00

I recently wrote a review of the new Jedi Mind Tricks album Servants in Heaven, Kings in Hell for the schools paper The Clock, check it out here.
The force is with Jedi Mind Tricks - Arts & Entertainment

HOTT New Celebs at Loon!!!

2007-11-27T21:32:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure if anyones Brian Norton or Jay Scambio lately but, I heard they're hiding out because of some peculiar identity crisis that confuses them for these guys...

...Scambio as Ken Wilbur...

...Norton as Seam Beam...Batt them eyelashes at these terrain park celebs for better raked jumps...

-No Regrets!

Never Eat Soggy Waffles...

2007-11-06T00:07:00.000-05:00

Here is a review I have written for my journalism class on the new film

North, East, South, West

by Foursquare Outerwear.

Gathering a small team of five pro snowboarders consisting of riders like Pat Moore, Jake Blauvelt, and Peter Line, Foursquare Snowboard Outerwear ventured out on a four stop tour going North, East, South, and West to document what helps create, develop, and inspire the Foursquare team and the products it produces. The film North, East, South, West begins with a montage of mixed footage seen later in the film. Narrating the intro is the mesh hat wearing Eddie Wall, giving a play by play of what the film entails and why they are putting it out. Stopping off in Svalbad, located in the article circle, Eddie is quickly on the audio to begin annoyingly narrating the section through the history of the location and the mission of the team. As the narration gets blurred out via conversation the film doglegs into Jake Welch's opener, chopping up the documentary aspect of the film and mixing it with a quarter of a snowboarding film.
From Glaciers to grass gaps the snowboarding picks up the dull slack of the film while providing progressive and fun footage (watch out for Board de dog sled). Transitioning out of Jakes part to Southern California, the film captures an East Coast styled “Most Extreme Day Ever” taking place first at the beach for an ill surf session. Psych! On to the mountains via helicopter, Mountain High, located just outside Los Angeles, hosts a few hours of shredding on jumps, rails and natural excellence for the teams appetite. Eventually capping the day off with some skateboarding at Costa Mesa park in San Diego, Eddie Wall narrates on about how they “mix it up with the locals” as if that’s what the trip is all about.
Continuing the films pattern Sand Diego leads into Pat Moore’s featured section that covers all sorts of progressive tricks giving the video some more credit. San Diego falls back as Foursquare relocates to another destination repeating the pattern for the remainder of the film as parts come in and out of new historical and interesting snowboarding, skateboarding, and surfing that takes place there and how different cultures mix with style and features on and off snow. The repeated pattern of the film is interesting and creates a new style of snowboard film in a documentary form. Though the dialogue does become rather vague and tired, maybe like the travelers? The Dialogue is able to captivate the viewer through narration that allows the viewer to feel as if they are there and ready to slash some pow turns, in Foursquare gear, of course.
As the narration becomes melodramatic, the parts and the footage from the different locations pop out in a strangely familiar orange tint; luckily not all of it is that weird filter. The combination of a solid team, unlimited transportation and the gear to back them, the team was able to put out a solid piece of consistent, progressive riding that has been captured in three not so traveled area’s and one local favorite that represent to the best of their abilities a fun, interesting way to look at snowboarding and develop. Subtract the corny narration by capping it after the montage add at least fifteen seconds more of travel/riding footage, better inform the music coordinator and a 5-out-of-5 snowballs film is then created. Unfortunately those elements were lacking, giving this film a mere 4-out-of-5 snowballs, other wise its still worth watching, check it out at the local shop, seeing as it is free and all.

....................................................................................................................................................Banner: Snowboard Magazine.

The Evolution of Sternum and the Supertwats

2007-11-05T19:50:00.000-05:00

While halloween may get some people in the spirit of dressing up, the idea of being a rock star or actually rocking and starring in a band usually allows those involved the opportunity to dress in some ferocious, freaky, funky, flirty outfits on a regular basis. Over the course of this previous weekend when I was in New York, my roommate Big Mike Gonsalves got down on a serious night of rock star fame and misfortune when his band Sternum and the Supertwats played at Jose´'s Bar in Plymouth, New Hampshire.

Big Mike in his Scally Cap with a friend before the show.

Abominable Mike letting it out on stage.

A complete beautiful rock star wreck in the a.m...

Thank you, Good Night!

Debut Career

2007-11-04T20:34:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend I had taken a short trip to New York City to visit with some friends, skateboard, check out the city and visit the locations of where the filming of a remake of taxi driver in the avante-guarde form will take place. The first day was pretty fun I met up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with a good friend from home who is now working on a small budget film titled "Poop, Fart, Cum, Pee: The Anatomy of the Man in Me". A rather lengthy title for what is to be an hour documentary on the inner workings of the male mind and its ever growing interest in bodily fluids, why they are funny and what scientifically develops the characteristics of these fluids. Spending the better half of friday skating and exploring the stranger workings of New York City was quite the tantalizing experience. Saturday and Sunday rolled around and it was strictly business, after spending several hours in a car and who knows how long discussing where the opening scene was to take place, we finally set up our spot, permits and all. Here is a shot of me from the first day of filming, like I said it is to be an avante-guarde remake of the classic Taxi Driver.

Skateboarding Fashion

2007-10-05T13:23:00.000-04:00

Um, I like like skateboarding because when we hafta like take pictures of like doing manovas I can like make my outfit match with like whats in the background so like its really cool for me like being a action model...pre-supplying stupid comment of this photo.

First assignment for Journalism with Monninger.

2007-09-24T22:22:00.000-04:00

Twenty Questions with Ted Lavoie of Boardin’ Club Fame

Settling down at home after a long day of skateboarding with a mid-evening session at the bar and school work long completed, I find myself sitting alongside Ted Lavoie, current president of the Plymouth State Boardin’ Club. The twenty-one year old physical education major is slightly slouching next to me in a clean white t-shirt, faded jeans and an expression that reads “we’ve been out all day man, can’t you find a better time to do this” but, rather the inflection in his voice is of little concern towards catching some sleep. Ted reigns from Southbury, CT a rural location about one hour south of Hartford and if heading for snow it’s at least another three. Even with epic mountains hours away, Ted was able to find a small area known as Woodbury Ski and Racquet located just outside of his hometown. There Ted progressed the best he could for the location and made trips to Vermont and New Hampshire when he could all the while still progressing. Pushing into senior year at Plymouth with a summer of coaching at High Cascade Snowboard Camp and a handful of sponsors from Rome snowboards to Volcom outerwear behind him Ted puts on the gloves for one more go around as President of the club. Relaxed now and feeling loose from a few night caps Ted and I segue from goofy, what if kind of questions into a more focused tone involving the Boardin’ Club and its happenings.

Q. What is the Plymouth State Boardin’ Club and what is it about?
R. A collaboration of skateboarders and snowboarders, who get together and ride with each other and are just down for a good time!

Q. What is going on with the long hair and baggy clothes?
R. There you are for stereo types, most snowboarders don’t wear baggy clothes anymore. As for style, half don’t care what other people think and dress whatevers.

Q. Who is in charge of running the club and what positions are held within its “hierarchy”?
R. I am in charge of the club as the President we also have Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer and director of art, The art director for postitions.

Q. As the president of the snowboard what tasks are you to complete?
R. I am involved with meetings that are necessary for funding the club, making sure the clubs still there, organize all events, all that shit.

Q. When are meetings conducted and how often?
R. Whenever we need one.

Q. What notification techniques are used to attract new members?
R. Signs posted around campus, usually drawn up by our art director Big Mike.

Q. Are there any requirements to be involved with the club?
R. If you’re a dude you have to bring at least two babes to any given meeting.

Q. How is the club funded?
R. The university recognizes our organization and allows a budget for the club.

Q. Does the club ever take it upon itself to host fundraisers or other money acquiring events in order to have a little bit more spending money or does the club rely solely on big brother to guide it financially?
R. All about big brother baby.

Q. Why do you feel that tax payers should have to support this club and why?
R. Nah, because we don’t do anything for them, why do they have to do anything for us.

Q. Do you think that it would be crazy to say that the club is supported less by the University compared to other clubs such as the chess or math club?
R. Yes that would be crazy because we receive more money and what’s chess?

Q. How does the club work with the university and the community to give back for the funding?
R. We bring a lot of students to the school because of snowboarding and that greatly benefits the university.

Q. Does the club offer discounts at mountains or shops within the area?
R. Yep, Eastern Boarder (Nashua) and Lahouts (Lincoln). Free trips to sweet places.

Q. When planning trips what are some things the club considers?
R. Amount of people, where the snow is good and how it much it’s going to cost both the club and sometimes the students/members.

Q. Are supervisors needed on trips?
R. Hah! No way!

Q. Do you repeat trips or try and keep it fresh with different locations each venture?
R. We may repeat trips but we always keep it fresh!

Q. Is there one location that seems to be an all time favorite?
R. Jay Peak VT. The only thing you can expect from the trip is that it will definitely be something to remember.

Q. You and fellow club leaders a due to be graduating soon, who is next in the line up for club organizers and co-coordinators?
R. The Dre´ Beriau, Matt Teperon “Teflon Don”, Ryan “Destinys Child” Dest.

Q. Is there any sort of initiation for the new leaders?
R. None what so ever.

Q. What advice or words of interest can you lend to new prospective members of the Boardin’ Club?
R. Just keep boardin’ brah!

How come you're not making any noise?

2007-09-17T22:31:00.000-04:00

The weekend bled into one large mess of excellence, failure, and prosperity with failure barely adding to the mix. Late nights early mornings, dollar slices, random girls, random fights, strange house, familiar face, squishy D trading off women, sleep overs, skateboarding, bloody wife beaters, harsh cold, short end to a long weekend...

On Sunday we went down to skate a pool south of plymouth, this is what it looked like.

DGH...Drunken Gun Handlin'

Lots of people met up.

Squishy D and Riders Edge.

Lenny loves being involved with these guys so I thought I would put his picture up here.

Jack going over the light. JW lurk status.

Marker Wars.

Aftermath.

Some backwoods shit for Craig.

Squishy.

Mad dudes in good moods

No Comment.

Fire Station 19

2007-08-27T10:20:00.000-04:00

Yesterday after-evening brought me to Logan to pick up my brother and his girlfriend, which in turn brought the three of us including my parents to The Capital Grill located on Newbury St. just across from Patagonia and adjacent to Urban Outfitters. A very avant-garde restaurant armed to the teeth with gold trim, marble furnishings and heavy wooden doors (even to the restroom, which could actually serve some purpose of privacy). We were lucky enough to have this meal provided for us via a friend of my father or some sort of work related business that they offered him a gift card to this restaurant. In any event, while seated there I looked around from people to architecture and back to the menu consisting mainly of a wine list that far surpassed the number of meals actually offered at this fine establishment. The culmination of these preceding happenings brings to where I am today, on a boat with my family, floating diligently across the atlantic towards a great island filled with restaurants of the same kind but, there is a certain kind of nostalgia on this island that washes all sins of a rich lavish lifestyle far from my hands like the best Purell hand sanitizer. All nostalgia, lavish living, and things concerning a higher lifestyle than that I've yet to acquire, brings me to thoughts on things I hate...all of which stemmed to realization at last evenings dining experience (which in fact was highly appreciated and delicious to that extent.."everything tastes better when it's on someone else's tab").

Things I hate...in no specific order.

People who sit in the middle back seat when there are two other passengers.
Non-sour candy.
Tall women in high heels.
Coffee with more than one sugar.
Tax on cigarettes.
Dogs that put their head out the window.
Dogs for that matter.
When the cashier throws away your receipt with out asking. (skipping part 1 of protocol).
Eye ballers,rubber necks, people who cant mind their own business.
Outdated maps with-out reference to the date manufactured.
The Goo Goo Dolls.
John Resnick.
Dave Matthews (and his horrible '90s college jam) Band.
People who stand in line for 20 minutes get to the ordering window and "just can't seem to figure out" what they want. (you had twenty fucking minutes, even 5 to 10 minutes you have to be able to make up your mind, there are 31 flavors are you stupid, can you not read or are you just that irrelevant to society you cant order a goddamn butter pecan, kiddie cone, with jimmies tipped over in a cup so you dont spill it but you still have the cone to snack on later?)

People who don't know if they should get rainbow or chocolate jimmies and ask the server at the window what is better.
Males ages 18-30 with a vocabulary consisting of the words or terms dude and guy in any order used atleast 5 times in an 80 word statement...that would be a small paragraph or a 2 minute sentence.

Females that misuse the term like, like an average of 20 times per one minute sentence, specifically like, um like when they are like college educated. (What is so difficult about proper articulation).

Families of more than 4 at the beach.
Families with every toy possible at the beach, electronic or not. (get a chair, boogey board, shovel and bucket sit the kid in the sand and read your horrible people magazine because your life is so boring you must read on someone else's "Jaunt" or "Hot" lifestyle.
...Finally those that waste a beautiful ferry ride with their family bitching about what exactly it is they hate.

The teeth of the sharks are sweeter than Duvalier's hell.

2007-08-23T22:40:00.000-04:00

Over the course of the past few months, maybe this spring into the summer I have had a couple of intriguing fascinations. Most recently I took interest in the usage and abuseage of drugs within in the United States and its governing cities. Stemming from other interests such as documentaries and novels or short stories on American life in and around the 1960's-1970's I could find myself "youtubing" videos containing drug use, reasons for addiction, and the effects of the usage. Early this summer a good friend of mine, Charles to be most accurate, who shares a similar interest in these topics and those concerning racial injustice mentioned the title of a documentary named "The Cocaine Cowboys". Stumbling through the documentary section at our local record store I managed to find a copy of said film and bribed Charles to purchase the video, while I pitched in for it as well (of course he now has the copy of it). The film takes its course by interviewing drug smuggler kingpin and former Italian Mafia member Jon Roberts along with pilot and trafficking partner Mickey Munday, using clips of news coverage, crime scene and personal photographs all narrated by these two handlers and expert hit man Miguel Perez retells the story of Southern Florida's history through the 1970's and 80's that Time Magazine once refered to as "Paradise Lost" on a cover story from Mid 70's-Early 80's*. A film that honestly and cold-heartedly allows viewers to witness the fame, money, and consistent tragedies first hand from the safety of their homes, thirty some odd years later.

*The article reads November 10th 1975 but talks about 1980 and 1982

Article: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,913703,00.html

...in recent news, watch out for wu-bangers...not a good experience.

I thought, Results!

2007-07-24T20:46:00.000-04:00

Coparck - A Good Year for the Robots
Uploaded by traianbasescu

Spin Magazine: "It does in four minutes what most movies cant do in 90."

Comming fresh out of Amersterdam Coprack places hold on a new type of euro-indie trash that sounds like low-fi sounds mixed with the illest of moog's and some quirky guitars to make this Weezeresque looking group of dudes look mad fresh...Alongside of their attire it is truely the music complimenting on behalf of the film aspect of this video. Trailin throught out the film is lyric for Mise en Scene following along to help narrate the actor with relatively no input except for unexpected documentary style interviews between scenes and band. This documentary aided narration helps push the song only further to compliment the films illest of styles.

One Sunday Morning.

2007-07-23T10:32:00.001-04:00

Too Busy To Complete Explanation.

2007-06-30T18:02:00.001-04:00

Prince Harry on his way

2007-06-24T00:32:00.000-04:00

Setting out on an unfathomable/unpredictable adventure, Charles and I start our early work day at Lamberts Rainbow Fruit in centerville, only to leave promptly at 6:30 A.M we awake at 6:30 (the time needed to leave in order for us to fulfill our solid well deserved 40 hour work week (pay check more importanly). Eventually making it to work a miraculous 10 minutes late with two coffees in hand, one iced one hot between my fine french hands aside a ciggarette and Mountain Dew Vault clenched Charles, We punch in and start our last 8 hours of the 40 hour week. While the set up goes smooth as wax paper on glass we hit 10 o'clock and an upredicted rush hour of beach hungry, sandwich craving 7 day vacationers swarm the deli like a pack of Bee's ordering Chicken Salads, Tuna Fish, and a myriad of other sandwich combinations strike us like Big Ben at Midnight only 14 hours earlier. Relieving Chuck of his post pbr partisim depression I send him on break while juggling 6 simultanious sandwich orders at once only to realize that soon he will get his pay back, We eventually venture through our most tiresome and aggrovating of days at the deli we finally hit 3 o'clock and leave. The hours between then and now were lost through a confusion of lawn mowing, friend picking up, bbqing and boozing to bring us to where I reside now, outdoors at a fellow female friends residence where we safely reside. Little did we know that after some delicious, hand cooked, tenderly roasted burgers we would paint the town a lovely blood red.
Making our way downtown (in no vanessa carlton kind of way) we hop a fence, almost get into an outdoor bar fight with some not so macho macho men, that didnt understand the joke that their receeding hairlines were coming back...not! unless they had a hair transplant of some sort of propecia alapecia manor would save their ugly five head and Dave Mathews Band esque clothing style would possibly pin them in a fight with three some what city oriented adoloscents looking to get into bars and meet some chicks. I mean honestly it was just three dudes in good moods. Eventually we (teddy and I) loose our faithful friend chuck to Steves Bar where he consumes a Red Bull and Vodka and several Pabsts Drafts while Teddy and I meander over to the playground and find a few new friends from the beautiful south named Jordand and Henley, briefly making plans to head to the beach in the morning, We stumble accrross young Chuck in the bar. I have a swift convo about motorcyles with a man named carlos who I only know through his Harley Davidson T-shirt and the small yet fullfilled knowledge of Motor Cycles I learned from my friends Spike and Tom....
Teddy and I manage to stumble accross to cigarette fiening ladies that we soon knew as Liz and whom ever that other chick was named, we eventually start our journey home once chuck has finished his fine first bar adventure. Stumbling home, tackled, manhandled journey charles repeatly stumples and gropes as we pull onto our safety street of Robinson Dr. Only to realize chuck is still not done yet. In and out of the house chuck comes quickly and unstably back and forth between where he wants to sleep with a girl whose name he still cant get straight after two day of knowing he comes back out for a thrid time where he is talking of coyotes, beers and layne stayely chuck now looks nervously over my shoulder as I finish this poorly written, buzzed up article about our first real night out of the shed...This shit sucks Im fucking beat and tired of Chuck's drunken shit I'm going to bed. He smoked all my cigarettes, drank in the bar, didn't kiss a chick and is now going to bed finally...hopefully...good night...fuck...

Pictures to come.

...Epic Battles

2007-05-14T22:00:00.000-04:00

Ahout six months ago one of my good friends Avert told me about heavy bands that played epic battles of metal. A few of those bands were Three Inches Of Blood, At The Gates, and biefly Dragon Force. I thought alike I'll check it out, maybe but, probably not I dont know Three Inches Of Blood just seemed so cheesy, but anyway I began looking at the stuff briefly and found Mastodon as one Epic Ocean Battler and Chris Haslam's use of Dragon Force's Through The Fire And Flames made me get into these epic battles and shred the air guitar. Watch for a video in the future...check this out in the present Im calling this the perfect combination of Math and Phsyics Geeks meets dream of being famous metal rockers only singing about the epic battles held in their ideological world sum where between the dungeons and don't forget the dragons. Andre Beriau...weird lifer.

Go Between these two photos durring the Wohh OOhh Parts.

Aya Carumbah!

2007-05-10T18:46:00.000-04:00

New from Momentum wheels is there promo dvd, I caught it one time with my friend Chuck. I am not sure where he picked it up, I think possibly on the free stuff rack at E.B. Here is Chris Haslam's part, this video is pretty serious for a promo and had a sick soundtrack. Get the full video at mometumskate.com.

Politics And Humor

2007-05-10T18:43:00.000-04:00

I was sitting in my Language and Linguistics class the other day and we had been discussing Phonetics and other technical English things, when my professor thought it would be cool to show us this video on Iraq because it has to do with pronounciation. Anyway this video is pretty good, check it out.

North Shore Secrets....

2007-04-19T18:04:00.000-04:00

"Nobody listens to turtle" but, if they did they would probably know all the secrets to North Shore. Teddy Ballgame loacted a few things he found that we discussed before his finding....they all rang true.

Continuity: Rick's shirt changes when he's running through the sugar cane field.

Factual errors: On Rick's first visit to Chandler's shaping room, Turtle tells him, "Don't touch brah! It's a fresh hot-coat," then proceeds to flip the board over onto its "fresh" hot-coat.

Audio/visual unsynchronized: When Occy says, "I was wondering when you were going to make it into the line-up."

Continuity: On the very first wave that Rick surfs on the north shore he's on a short board. By the time he gets to the
north shore he's on a short board. By the time he gets to the end of the wave he's cheering while standing on a long board.

Continuity: Immediately prior to the Pipeline Classic, while waiting, Rick Kane is wearing a pink rash shirt. He is then shown sitting down, without the shirt, and then heading for his first heat with the shirt on again.

A Weekend In Plymouth...With Teddy Brendan Straight

2007-04-17T18:16:00.000-04:00

As it’s two o’clock on Friday the 13 I find myself in a bit of a Jam. One: do I go to Plymouth N.H. and snowboard one more time and hang with my friend Andre Beriau and the rest of the gang or do I stay in Stur-town being totally bummed that the girlfriend is grounded and still wont sneak out to come see me even though I already know she is quite the adventurer. So after a long hard two minutes of thinking I decided to go to Plymouth and shred the white winter wave one last time. As I feel like Im getting bombarded with calls and texts from my bro he’s probably just texting me back and Im the one doing all the bombarding. Ha-Ha. So I race home call my mom on the way and tell her that she’s taking me to the bus stop in Boston at six fifteen p.m. as she complies with “I guess so” I step on the gas even harder and race home. Finally gettomg home Im lost between what clothes to pack so I pack my clothes bringing my snowboarding gear and 4 extra t-shirts and what I thought was 2 pairs of jeans happens to only be one pair but I was still fortunate it hadn’t been a snowboard boot or board M.I.A. so as I get in the car now head to Boston my moms asked where’s the notorious big cd was and I said right here and started playing the cd as I was talking to my mom about the biggie smalls or Christopher Wallace death she stops what ever she was thinking about at the time and ask in a curious pause “biggies dead?” ha-ha I came back with an outburst of laughing and told my mom Ya 2pacs dead too and asked where she was since like 96 or 98 so I get to the bus terminal after purchasing a ticket to Plymouth I get in line now I have a snowboard and a duffle bag in each hand and I realize why people are looking at me with a weird look almost in an angry avid look I think hmm what could be pissing these 50 or 60 year old men and women off but makes all the young laugh when they see my snowboard and the reason for it would be my 2 stickers that say I heart ASS! And the other says ASS WAX! as im proudly holding MY snowboard, I get an “excuse me” from behind me so I turned and say hey can I help you with something and she just simply asked me if this bus is stopping in Tilton and I replied with a I guess so? So she then asked if I was snowboarding (funny considering im holding a snowboard in my hand) so I reply with a yes and then this girl asked if I ever been to Waterville valley little des she know its where my friends lurk the best so I again came back with a “Ya…. I have Im actually going 2 loon .“ and that conversation ended once we go on the bus but don’t worry about it she was busted so as I make my way up to Plymouth NH I stop in Manchester take a quick 15 Mins to stretch but I decide to run inside snake a cup of JO and dump millions of sugars to amp me for a hell of a night in Plymouth. As I get to Plymouth I get out grab my shit and start a hike like a half mile up a hill to Andre Beriau’s apartment which is split with Ryan Stefani , Ted Lavoie and Mike Gonsalves. As I get there Im greeted with a hey its Ted…Whats up?….Wheres Totally Stoked Chuck whats hes doing. Haha as im thinking to my self haha if these dudes are asking about another one of my friends I must have two of the best friends you can get.
( Andre Beriau and Charles Larson.)

So as I settle down I get asked if the weedifer man wants to find his way into my lungs so I was not able to refuse as you might of read in the last message that the weedifer man all ways wins. So over the next few days I proudly where my wachusett fag arm snowboarding get ill with the illest dest and the flyest mikey gallant watch north shore almost every night and wait for the rain to stop so I can get agro with getting agro-wet. So stay tune you may hear more from me but right now im gonna go chill cause this computers really big and my eyes are bulging out of my head.
P.s. Get Real with Tongue!
<--eating mad pizza

<-dudes

<--another dude

<--my boo

<-loving dat ass

The Illest Fun Spot!

2007-04-15T19:00:00.000-04:00

We went to fun spot today and this is what it looked like...

The Hiatis is over!

2007-04-13T16:27:00.001-04:00

After an eventful 3 in a row snowball direct hit evening I found my self waking to the ocean sound on North Shore and woke up to get ready for a day at the HIll. Considering I had just recieved my tax return I bought an Ill new digi cam and I will now have even more photos for the bloggary. I bought the camera with a 10% discount because it was the display then got a 1gb sd card for 15 bucks and ended up only spending $175 for the camera including the sd card...shit was bitchin. Went to the hill with Ryan, Vert, and Big Mike...this is what we saw.

The Illest Destiny.
definitely some soul shredders...
Dont forget about Mole The Freak!
When It was done
We had some Ill ass pizza.

This is nice...

2007-04-11T00:02:00.000-04:00

I did a bunch of school today. Then I came home had a convo with the man, then had another convo with this duderbaker.
AIM IM with Brendon Straight .
10:42 PM
B: yo dogg
ME: yo layin hot fire
haha oh cool haha
hell yeah
man vs weedifer man
10:45 PM
haha thats an epic babttle but the weedifer man is tough 2 over come
battle*
dude jill txt me earlier it was wierd i was chill it was wierd that she decided 2 hit me up
ME: what did she say
ME:I want yo dick!
just like asked how i was and shit hey if she did id be like sorrry babe i got a boo haha
ME: Niice Niice
ya which sucks my girls grounded
ME:yeah daaang
ya and usually wed text sexy shit 2 eachother but she no longer has txt 4 like a week or 2 cause her mom is a nut case
You left the chat.
11:05 PM
Reconnecting to Brendon Straight …
ME:dang, so you cant have textual intercourse
11:10 PM
haha no just sexyy shit
she wants 2 go 2 wachusetts end of the year party with me haha
the employee one*
ME: so you can get a beajj on the lift
haha fuck that ill get it the minute i pull out of her drive way
11:15 PM
its wierd like at school were like hey babe and shit and talk but the minute we are together out of school its way gnarlier
she hates like school pda's which makes me feel way better cause i hate having a relationship with some1 i go 2 school With
11:20 PM
dude i got 4more weeks left of school that shits crazy
11:30 PM
You left the chat by logging out or being disconnected.
11:55 PM
Reconnecting to Brendon Straight …
fuck

but I heard the chick looked like this

....so whateva's

R.E.D.I.C.U.L.O.U.S

2007-04-09T14:14:00.000-04:00

Living in an apartment is a very important life operation one must undergo before coming a home owner, atleast I think so. Living in apartments are not very sweet. You have a dude that comes to your place to see if people are behaving when the noise is too loud on a weekend night, tells you, you cant have friends park there even if there is extra room (especially on weekends), and the best part is that in some apartments there is a limit to how many tenets per apartment can have a parking spot...sick, not! We are allowed to have two cars at our house and have four people living here total, they warned me about not parking there and getting towed eventually.
I arrive home around 10pm last night and ted's car still isnt home so I figure he is going to get home tomorrow and eitiher way there was atleast six unfilled spots...no one was going to be pulling in after 10pm and if they were it would probably one or two cars. So I say fuck it and park there, put a sign in the window that reads "With 12D, in place of Ted's Car"....thats what the building manager told us to do or to call them if someones car was replacing someone else for the night or what have you. This is also the same building manager who told on us for having a party one night...yeah he is like a vegetable lasagna, a total puss.
Apparently, the sign wasnt good enough and too my amazment when I was all ready at noon today to drive over to the library then park my car where I am allowed to and go to class. Well I guess my landlord had alternate plans for me, my car got towed. 20 minutes of frustration, 5 minutes of landlord tenet conversation, 1.5 miles of bike riding, 30 minutes of paperwork and waiting for a ride to the lot, 1.5 hours and 135 dollars later, I had my car back...but alteast they make retarted songs like Glamorous to crack you the fuck up when alls said and done...

P.S. The whole 10-15 minute ride there I didnt say one thing to the driver nor did he me until I got out and said thanks....and picked up my fresh new Echo.

I need a Fix because Im going down.

2007-04-04T16:15:00.000-04:00

Its funny to think that with in the first few days of warmer weather people are confident that spring is finally here...right? Wrong! Waking up this morning, I myself thought it was just going to be another rainy, muddy, April day. I was in for a twist, I wake up to a white field running where the street and front yard had once been. While most other states, probably every state but New Hampshire is 35 or 40 degress and partly cloudy. New Hampshire on the other hand is experiance perfect 32 degree snow, the slushy kind that makes it shitty to drive and even worse to tried and ride a bike. Going outside even dabbles on the edge of question, a simple solution...do what you need to do and come home asap. I find that Mike has chosen to go to class and come home. For Big Mike lounging looks like this...

and this...

Unfortunately I had work to do and in lieu of the snowy weather I couldnt do this

Because of these factors...

Tie Dye, Bicyles, and Warm Weather.

2007-04-04T01:03:00.000-04:00

It appears that in every human being there is a certain hole, crevice, or endorphin that makes each person want to blow their hair back in some sort of way. While unfortunately more often than not it’s a drug, some sort of dopamine that triggers this short-lived sensation. For others it is a simple ratio that establishes just exactly what blows one’s hair back. There is a vast majority of these things and they all come in different forms of danger; there is snorkeling with sharks, traveling to space, hanging out with your girl/boy friend (if your straight too), or merely banking a few fast paced turns on a bike.
Burning the clouds and rain away for another day, the sun has been shining brightly and highly for the past week or more. Although there have been a few days with crumby weather, truly it is time to let spring commence in the Granite State. With said fortunate events I took it upon myself to finally repair that blown out tire on my 1987 flat white and purple duct taped Dunhill ten-speed. Sadly enough I spent the winter in neglect of my beautiful classic English racer, most would take better off-season care of a gem like that but snowy hills got the best of me. Two ninety-three, can you believe that Two Dollars and Ninety-Three cents for a bike tube! I was astonished, flabbergasted, struck with awe, I believe it was my first epiphany. Growing quite skeptical of the price I decided to use the conveniently located price scanner provided by the local Wal*Mart. Again to my amazement the price rang the same as it did on the rack, I was in luck.
Arriving at home I mapped out when the perfect time for proper tire replacement would be, just before dinner the next night. The following day I began getting psyched up, it was a fairly warm spring day about 50 degrees maybe 55 yet, the wind was blowing rather fast for how clear and warm it appeared through the window of the class I was observing. When I finally returned home I went around back of my pale grey, blue trimmed apartment hopped up onto the back deck and went into our community laundry room. Grabing my freshly dried and recently (tie) dyed sweatshirt and t-shirt.
Throwing on the sweatshirt, I borrowed some tools from biggest Michael and went to town on dissecting that back tire. It took some time to wrestle the tread back on with some help I was able to tame the vicious beast of a slippery snake like tube and tread. I finally made it back out alive and the tire on secure. Preparing for my short journey down to Muncies, I cue up some jams on my bodpod and hit the streets…side-by-side with my bike and its airless new tube. Struggling to rearrange the chain I finally snag it in place pumped up the air tires and cranked out those laid up rusty chains.
I was in for it now well actually every one else was. Reaching serious speeds around turns and working the old breaks back into place, I careened and crisscrossed up and down hills around tight corners, over sand pits, curb hops, and mulch manuals. Jamming out hard with a fresh tie-dyed sweatshirt I was feeling pretty anxious for spring and summer to reach their full potential. Even though I managed to have an immaculate after dinner cruize, I’m still thirsty for more. Time to hit the road for the library, happy trails… don’t forget what ever makes your brain tickle the right way do it up, stay positive and never stop adventuring…

theres blood and puss in it...

2007-04-03T03:34:00.000-04:00

Above is the cover of Woody Harrelson's 2001 documentary on ecotarians and environmentalist. Woody and a group of granola crunching, patchouli oil deoderizing, activists take part on a 1300 mile journey from Washington State to California stopping at Colleges and Universities along their route. Each step of the way, the group makes sure everyone they meet is informed on just what they are doing. While the movie probably won't make you change your mind and lifestyle, it will definetely change your view. Creep it real.

Here is another great photo of Woody at his best