The Elders Foretold of Such Things

It is around this time of year, when the daylight hours shrink down to slivers and the leaves turn a fiery red, that you can take an evening stroll through Downtown San Jose and feel the presence of souls trapped between this world and the next.  They say if you stand at the corner of 7th and Reed and listen closely, you can hear a faint voice with a slight southern drawl cry out the name "Napppppoooollllliiiiiiiii."  Like the distant baying of some tormented beast it floats eerily through the tree branches.  This is the howl of Chase Newton's Ghost, and normally it mixes with the sounds of the Autumn wind and goes unnoticed.  But this year the Texas Rangers are back in the playoffs, and with each postseason win Chase's voice will grow louder, his words more pronounced, and his obscenities more colorful.  They say the Mayan calendar predicted a third chance for the Texas Rangers to win The World Series, and that Chase's spirit would at last be at peace.  Until then,

Smashed cell phones,

Skull shaped bottles of tequila,

cursing, 

television abuse,

and irresponsible betting.

But just so we are clear on one thing, when all is said and done,

    

Pulling the Rock from my Shoe

Occasionally I will edit some footage together on my computer and let it sit there for an unusually long time.  I wait for just the right moment to set it free into the digital world.  Sometimes the wait grows too long, and the unused edit pesters me like a rock in my shoe.  I go about my daily business as if nothing is bothering me, but there is most certainly a slight discomfort in every step.  Eventually I can hold off no longer, tear the shoe from my foot, and allow the rock to bounce happily onto the pavement.  

Here is a little jagged rock I found in my shoe.  

Just add Water

When the heat stings,
and your flesh melts.
When you're feeling sad.
Simply remember your favorite things,
(like malt liquor, flat bars, and gremlins)
and I bet you won't feel half as a bad.

Thoreau's Before Hoes

I have long been an admirer of Henry David Thoreau's writing and the minimalist existence he chose.  The man truly embodied the, fuck all this bullshit I'm gunna do me, lifestyle many rappers and hip hop stars claim to live.

Jay-Z claims to have had a whopping 99 problems without a bitch being one of them, while Thoreau famously said, "Our life is frittered away by detail.  An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers..."  This man is barely stressing into the double digits!  While it is true that Thoreau never specified whether a woman was one of his few problems, I have to imagine that living a life of isolation in the woods restricted him from having very much female interaction.  This fool probably smelled something funky. 

In summation, I respect works of Jay-Z, but you must recognize a true G!   

Make a Toast to Making the Most, of Your Summer

It's amazing how drinking a beer can make make even the most pitiful skate obstacles seem like funnest skatepark.  Daydreaming about Krysten Ritter also makes everything in life a little more enjoyable.  Disregard the unorthodox video format and enjoy!

My so Called Weekend

Has Anyone ever uttered the following words to you?

"Nah, Hell no man, I do believe you'd get your ass kicked saying something like that."  Jesse and I never hear this wretched phrase either, because we perpetually have mondays off.  I take a small amount of sick pleasure in knowing that while the majority of society is waking up monday morning crusty eyed to a blaring alarm, I am gleefully and leisurely rolling in my sheets like a pig in mud.  Jesse and I have begun treating our two day vacations as if wednesday might not arrive.   

If you happen upon a brewery whilst driving to another town you are obligated to stop there for a beverage.  There are rules to be followed. 

The inside of your tent should be just as beautiful as...

the outside.

Morro Bay is pretty easy on the eyes.

Wonderland might be pushing it a bit.

The river life isn't too bad either.

Good to see the skaters of Guerneville are working hard to keep the scene alive.

Bodega Bay is another sweet piece of eye candy.  I am seeing a reoccurring theme with bays.

Oh yah, we drank some beer and skated too.

What are you Driving Behind?

I possess an inhuman level of faith in my fellow man.  nine times out of ten I assume people are telling the truth, acting with good intentions, and deep down naturally kindhearted.  For good or for ill, I use this happy go lucky attitude as an inner tube to help me float down the winding river of life.  Unless I am driving, in which case I don't trust a single god damn soul on the road.  Here are two Final Destination-esque death scenes just waiting to happen.

Am I really suppose to believe that a tiny pathetic strap is preventing several tons of concrete from tumbling down on my hood at 70 mph?

Has this genius seriously never seen Final Destination?  I almost feel like whoever loaded this rebar wanted to impale some hapless fool following behind him.