Hello, I missed you.
Got home a couple days ago from a trip to China (Hong Hong, Shenzhen, and Shanghai) with Adidas Skateboarding.
There will be a feature in issue #50 of The Skateboard Mag, but until then feel free to browse my ever expanding blog over at The Mag's website.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Hello, I missed you.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Sunday, December 09, 2007
105-speed transmission (7.9 - 122 gear inches)
Pneumatically-deployed landing gear
Pneumatic controls, pressure tank, air horn
Hydraulic disk brake
Handlebar Chord Keyboard
Thursday, December 06, 2007
I have a new favorite story from the good problem that is the ongoing WGA strike. It's such a good story in fact, that I'm gnawing on my fists and feel like my chest is burning with the fire of a thousand suns.
If I could ever pick a day, I would relive November 17th in New York City. I would relive it so hard.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
Someone once told me that holding in shit that bothers me and not expressing myself will compromise my health. Made sense. Makes sense. From time to time when I maneuver through my day I will hear something or see something that makes me fucking angry. I think I want to purge some of that shit here and keep my immune system bright.
Today I saw one of these fucking things.
I fucking hate these fucking things.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I had suspected that in the midst of the WGA strike, it would be hard for writers at The Daily Show and The Colbert Report (et. all) to keep themselves from writing about current world events, so abundant and ripe for lampooning as they tend to be.
Well, it looks like a few were unable to contain themselves.
Viva la resistance!
A creative nugget that no one got paid for, below:
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Friday, November 09, 2007
I've been in touch with John's sister, Karen, throughout the week. She is a great person and an awesome sister. She told me today that John is going in for surgery this evening about 5pm. From what I understand they will be fusing the 4th and 5th vertebrae, then fusing the 6th and 7th. She tells me that the 4th and 5th are the scary ones due to the fact that they are near the vocal chords and all the triggers that allow John to swallow. A good scenario right now would be that John come out of the surgery as planned, have a scratchy throat due to the procedure, then head over to Madonna Rehab Hospital soon and begin his journey of recovery.
John has been having a really tough time with his vastly limited limb mobility. He is bummed, really bummed. If you visit him at any time, be pumped and positive. Go see him on your best day and when you are in your most positive of moods. You know he'd love to see you.
John will be worked on today by one of the best Neurosurgeons in the world. This guy is THE man.
Stay good to each other people. Live well and ride safe. More to come.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Okay, I’m done.
As a few of you already know, I got home from the hospital yesterday afternoon after a four-day visit. Glad to be out.
Developed an icky stomach and chills on Friday afternoon and by Saturday it was stabbing abdominal pain and a fever. Sunday morning my mom and I shuffled into the ER where they began to evaluate why my body was kicking its own ass.
An IV pumped the fluids in, I had to drink 40oz of contrast, and I got a CAT scan to look at what might be hurting. Not my appendix but in the same area … right where your colon and your lower intestine meet. They didn’t know what it was. Maybe an autoimmune disease, maybe some kind of gnarly infection, maybe something else. They decided to admit me and keep me around for more hospital stuff. And by hospital stuff I mean everything but surgery.
I had blood drawn, I had urine sampled, I had antibiotics pumped into my arm, I was made to drink liters of foul tasting liquid that made me poop pudding (also sampled) until I pooped clear. Finally I was knocked out, given a drug that induces amnesia, and they RotoRootered out my colon and lower intestine with a snaky camera and collected photos and polyps. I’m okay with the amnesia, as you can imagine.
And then I slept it off for a couple days.
Yesterday afternoon they told me that from one of my stool samples they were able to isolate the bacteria that caused all my problems.
Yeah, that’s right, food poisoning.
So I’m out, my family is relieved, I have a bit of a different outlook on things, and I’m about seven pounds lighter.
Oh, yeah. No moustache either.
How ya like me now?
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
... it's time to give her/him a ring on your prayer phone.
True Lincoln good-guy and friend to all, John Andrews was in a very bad bike accident a few nights ago.
Smashed teeth, broken bones in his face, and a bruised spine.
Think good thoughts for him and his family because they need us right now.
Then go forth and be careful.
And count your blessings.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
I have to go to the dentist tomorrow.
No biggy. I can handle that.
But today, when I was reminded of my appointment, my first reaction was, “I have to shave this thing off. Now.”
What kind of a man would I be if I followed that kind of thinking? (No need to answer that question.)
But let this serve as a sort of mini announcement: I’ll at least wait until after my dentist appointment to get rid of it. Yes, you read me right. I’m thinking about ending my moustache raising experiment.
As I’ve mentioned, as long as I don’t look in a mirror I can get through my days without too much self-shaming. And that’s the approach I’ve adopted at this point in the ’stache research. No lookie.
This works fine for shitty sunglasses (Since I’m behind them, they don’t look bad to me.), but I’m starting to feel badly for all those who have to see me regularly. Not very badly. Just a little badly.
Also, I’m sick of taking photos of my face and sick of posting them on this blog.
I’ll let you know how the dentist goes and then we’ll start working on how I’m going to get out of this little jam I’ve gotten myself into.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Nothing to report really, just some observations.
You know when you get a new (to you) car? Or when you’re first thinking about shopping for a particular vehicle? Good times, right?
Well, during these rare moments you might have found yourself inner dialoging. Something along the lines of, “The Buick LeSabre is the car for me. I think I’ll go for the 1999 model.”
And at that fateful Excalibur moment, you open your eyes a little wider, start looking around, and — lo and behold — all you see are 1999 Buick LeSabres.
“Hey, I didn’t know they made them in maroon!” Or, “That one’s seen better days.” Or, “Oh, man! Spoked hubcaps? That’s a nice option!” And the next thing you know you’re the proud owner of your own LeSabre.
By the way … did you know that LeSabre really means The Sabre?
Anyway, as so often happens when you purchase a new (to you) LeSabre, you might start waving at the other LeSabre owners and giving them affirmative nods and raising your eyebrows at them as you meet on the streets. Hell, you might even park by that other LeSabre at the grocery store just because there’s an open spot next to it.
Okay — to make a long story long — I’m not saying my moustache is on the level of breathtaking amazingness that the 1999 Buick LeSabre occupies. Far from it. But I have noticed that a moustache can produce an eye-opening phenomenon similar to the one a new (to you) automobile generates.
In the act of toting this ’stache around these last few weeks, I’ve seen the best and worst of hairy upper lips that the world has to offer. Giant noble works of art and wimpy starter kits. I’ve seen mangy, scrappy, patchy, and I’ve seen full-blown, well-maintained, major-league epicness.
I’ve even gotten some head nods and some raised eyebrows.
Yeah, it’s all been super interesting. I’m sure you agree.
But to tell you the god’s honest truth, I’m beyond all that.
Now I'm keeping my eyes peeled for a rare sociable wave from the driver of a pristine LeSabre ... one that, upon closer examination, is being delivered by a walrus-y Wilford Brimley kind of person.
Yeah. Some of that when-worlds-collide type shit.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Again with the coffee.
Made it to the premiere of Nike SB's video Nothing But The Truth. They held it at the Kodak theater in Hollywood.
Yeah, the place where the Academy Awards are every year.
Very big deal.
Lots of popcorn, too.
They replaced the movie star portraits with shots of the NIke SB skaters. Here's Skateboard Mag photog and Sacto's own Jeff Landi pointing at another of Sacto's own ... Stefan Janoski.
They'll make fun of each other about this later.
The place was like a very big church, and the crowd assembled was as respectful as if they were at a wedding.
It was strange.
Usually these premiers are screaming and yelling matches and the place gets torn apart. Not this time, though. I think everyone was all freaked out.
Nothing But The Truth is amazing, though.
Very different, very out there, and one step of many that skateboarding should continue taking in order to keep ahead of the bean counters and demographers.
Let the haters hate.
Skateboarding needs to stay weird.
Friday, October 12, 2007
That's what I'm doing right now.
Went and saw stuff and did stuff last week.
Had a Macrobiotic lunch with friends.
Then an impromtu visit with my favorite skater/
filmmakers Charno and Buddy. They've got a new sopt and a new name — Six Stair. That's Noah in the middle.
Then down the block to Canter's with Pat and Adeline for some pickles and fries.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Sorry for the lack of moustache updates.
No, wait. I’m not sorry.
I’m out of town right now. Out in la la land for some skateboarding stuff — the premiere of the Nike video and the Goofy vs. Regular contest at the Etnies skatepark. And because the airlines didn’t charge me extra, I brought my moustache along with me.
I caught a cold on the plane. At least that’s what I’ve convinced myself of. There was a point where I had that overhead fan blowing on my face and there were people around me, just coughing and breathing into the ambient air. I didn’t really notice it at first, but then I had this grand realization. The fan was pushing all kinds of gross atmosphere — recirculated from the inside of the flying tube and tainted with the sneezes and farts and breath of all these sorry fuckers — right into my mouth.
“Shit. I’m gonna get sick.” I thought.
So I got up and went to the bathroom and washed my face and hands in the hopes of killing some of the germs that had attached themselves to me. And while I was in there I caught a glimpse of myself. Actually, I didn’t see myself at all. I saw my moustache.
I’d totally forgotten about it.
Then through some mixture of false hope and panic I made a jump in logic wherein my moustache was protecting me from all the microbes and cooties, like some broom-like filter, sweeping away the sickness and viral contaminants.
Yeah. That’s it.
I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t work that way. Not for (two thumbs pointing back at me) this guy. This un-sorry, sniffling, hacking, guy with a moustache.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Kevin, his moustache, and his hammer have been building somethin' in his backyard. On a recent visit to his lovely home, the accomplishment and excitement of what is yet to come was oozing from both Kev and Miles. Looks like this whole moustache thing has been producing some real results for number Seven. Way to be.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Straight trippin' boo.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Another serious test ride today. Got pulled over by a motorcycle cop as I was coasting the mini van down one of those hills on Pine Lake Road.
They’re big hills; let me tell you. Big enough to get you 12 mph over the speed limit. No problem.
Give it a shot sometime. If you don’t ride the brakes you can hit 52 without even trying.
He got me.
I stopped on a side street out of the way of traffic. I had my license and registration out before he got up to my window. I even said, “Yes sir. No sir,” and all that.
And then I remembered my moustache.
Cops like moustaches. At least it seems like they do. “Maybe he’ll see mine and let me off with a warning.” I thought as I kind of leaned my upper lip out the window a little bit. “Maybe if the sun hits it just right, he’ll be overcome by my whisker-growing efforts. He’ll recognize our brotherhood. He’ll ask me what I think about the Huskers chances against Iowa State.”
No dice. The dude was not a true bro. Not at all.
Of course, these results are non-scientific. In hindsight, I don’t think I should have been test riding my moustache on the cop level yet. Plus this guy didn’t have a moustache of his own. Not sure how or if that affected the outcome. My team's researching that as we speak.
Maybe moustaches work well in a STOP class situation.
I’ll let you know.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I was stoked on the Dumb Kid vs. Fixie Skid post. I wanted to see a cool slide-show/flip-book style kinda thing of the action. So, I decided to download the photos from that flickr set and make this video from those photos.
Props to photographer Peter DiAntoni
As days go, they’ve all been on the upper end of the scale lately. Which I like.
But that’s always a sign that things are about to get shitty.
I’ve joked around for a while about my boys being the neighborhood wreckers of shop, but something in the back of my mind sensed the truth in those jokes and I’ve kinda been waiting … a little fearful of the day when they become “those Wilkins boys.”
Well that day has arrived.
Got a report today from a neighborhood mom that Cian is one of a group of three or four gang members who are on the loose and effing es up on the regular. Accounts range from them hauling their four-year-old carcasses over a six-foot-high, fenced dog kennel only to harass the hell out of the poor trapped canines within, to climbing onto a brick wall and synchronized urinating into another family’s front yard.
So now I’ve got to be the stern dad. It’s not a problem, though. Stern dad isn’t too much of a stretch for me. But thanks to my stupid little ’stache-riffic research mission, I had to talk to this nice woman with my shitty moustache sitting there on my upper lip — just making a mockery of the whole situation.
I kept thinking, “There’s no way she’s taking me serious with this thing.” Nor should she have to.
But — I reminded myself — I shouldn’t have to take me too seriously, either. I am, after all, keeping a running dairy about growing a moustache.
So, yeah. Another upper-end day in the books.
How’d yours go?
Monday, September 24, 2007
My moustache and I rode through the park yesterday and it was a good ol' time.
Met up with the usual suspects at the usual place. Everyone wanted to know how it was coming along, and I got to experience one of those self-conscious "oh-shit" moments that I'm so afraid of. But then I kind of smiled ... realizing that this exercise is somewhat about learning to deal with those situations better.
I don't remember what I said, but it made my friends smile and then we rode bikes.
Later, I infiltrated the backyard scene and took part in a five-man spinner of doom.
This moustache thing is working out pretty good.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The fine folks who comprise the Minneapolis, St. Paul skate scene have once again pulled off a day of group fun—the fourth annual Backyard Ramp Jam.
For the full backstory, photos, and a video clip from the day, go to The Skateboard Mag's Coverage Page.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Day five of ’stache fest.
The reactions that my little project is generating are proving to be pretty interesting. I've been getting advice, I've been getting support, and I've been getting appeals to end my experiment before it even starts. All of which prove one of my life-long suspicions — moustaches carry with them a very strange and polarizing power.
And so with Ernie Chambers as my agnostic witness, I promise to never ever abuse that power.
That is, if I ever manage to get it.
The best quotable hasn't been a blog comment or an e-mail, though. It was of the verbal variety, and in the spirit of the strange power a live-and-direct moustache can produce, this audible show of ’stache support was delivered for all the world to hear by the one and only Butchey. Of course I’ll carry it with me from now on ... especially in those moments when this whole thing seems a bit too shameless, egotistical, or self-indulgent.
"Yay, moustache!" he offered up.