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The 3 Sisters. Bridget  - 1972 Triumph Daytona 500 Project. . currently in my living room under process. . finally. Yolanda - 2014 Triumph Tiger 800XC The daily commuting workhorse and backcountry explorer. . .likes to take naps on her side. . .usually my fault. Saffron - 2006 Triumph Thruxton - Heavily Modified beasty. Loves wheelies, being gazed upon. and munching on corners and curves. . .dislikes starting in the cold. 

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Texas 71

Haunting. 

The music playing in my head.  The music I immerse myself within. 

Some folks like uptempo, loud, raucous, happy tones and tunes. While I share that sentiment, sometimes, most of the time I’m at home listening to stories that are morose and melancholy. The taciturn poets saying much with little to nothing. Saturnine I may be, yet, is music not supposed to connect with us? Is it supposed to make us feel? Do we really have a choice in what resonates within us? I digress.  I’ve been on a Molina binge of late, I suppose. Sometimes it’s just single lines, brilliant in their simplicity and profoundness. “I heard the North Star saying Kid you’re so lost even I can’t bring you home” Others it’s the story itself. Yet the composition. It is truly remarkable. How the words falls in line with the music. It’s living. Breathing.  This song reverberates within me, it’s personal. I stood on the precipice of great change, and great decisions to make. Heading down the same damn road. Texas 71.  https://youtu.be/PsBzTqiMidA?list=PL0FMGH7t2xp-HOA1kibRh0PzKdYp_GUct

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Sunshine on snow

A new day and a new year dawns upon freshly fallen powder. Not much. Just enough to give everything a light dusting. Just enough to blind you as the sunlight breaks through the clouds.  Indie-Ana seems indifferent, just as happy as ever, maybe a little pep in her step because of the cold. Meanwhile, I’ve put good whiskey in my coffee and cracked a cold Rainier beer to walk her with. Riding to work will be interesting. I sit here this morning, sharpening a few knives that have lost their edge, and cleaning the lint and dust from my walther, seeing new years resolutions and the like pouring across the “motherfuckin picture box” as well as social media.  Now, my start to the year with sharp and dangerous objects, coupled with coffee and alcohol. . . seems . . .well, silly. ~takes a sip of rainier, followed by a sip of irish coffee, chambers round and holsters freshly cleaned and oiled pistol~ Yet, also extremely apt. For with the state of the world, as we begin a new lap around the sun, it seems all too likely that we will all need these things. To celebrate, to wind down, and to protect not only our corporeal selves, but our freedoms and rights. I shall not delve more into politics than that.  Some see this particular dawn as a fresh start, much like the fresh snow outside. I view today as a time for reflection. 

2016 was a monumental year for me: I moved 2500 miles away from everything I’ve ever known. I made egregious mistakes and hurt many. I learned. I became wiser. I made new friends. I loved. I lost. I lied. I cheated. I got a new job that I love. I rode motorbikes in the snow and rain. I made a new home. I had an epic roadtrip. I lost friends. I made memories. I made mistakes. I wrote poems. I wrote songs. I cooked new things. I rode my motorbike to Montana and back. I ate a fuck-ton of seafood. I quit smoking. I drank ALL the beer! I crashed my motorbike. I bought another motorbike. I GREW. 2017 will find me hitting my 30th year. 30 years. 30 fucking years and I’m still learning. If I had a resolution it would be the same advice I would give to anyone at this point in my life. Do not. DO FUCKING NOT! Just don’t. Do not EVER let anyone tell you that you do not know what happiness is. Your contentment, and joy is your own. It’s of your own construct. No one experiences it the same. What works for you, simply doesn’t work for everyone. JUST. DO. YOU!  Happy New Year y’all 

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Thanks bud, really.

I knew today was coming, I knew it would be a sharp pain in my heart. Still not sure I was prepared for exactly how sharp. One year ago today I awoke to a flurry of phone calls, and text messages. A post. Reading it, I already knew, I didn't want to believe. I made a few calls of my own to confirm. He was gone. My friend. 

Now as far as your typical definition of friend goes, we didn't exactly fit the mold. Saw each other 4-6 times a year in short stretches, only the occasional talking otherwise. Usually some terrible-offensive joke, or question about motorbikes. Yet, we both knew if we ever needed a place to crash, a cold beer, or a bike to ride, we would make it happen for one another. Hell, anytime we were together it was like we never missed a beat; We could speak on intimate things, only the closest of people usually speak on. Then turn right back around to the crass humor and hooliganism. 

I miss you Jeremiah. I wish like hell you were around to burn some more tires down with and converse about anything and everything from the sublime to the absurd. This photo is how I'll always remember you. That and rods vs mockers. Still can't believe you made that happen! Hahaha! Love you, man. I've lost 3 friends in the past 5-6 years to suicide. That's one every two years. That's 50 percent. Half. Or rather, WAY TOO FUCKING MANY!!! Right now, I just want all of my friends, estranged or not, to know that I am humbled and honored to know you. Thank you for the time, the effort, and the memories.  

Thank you for it all. 

Should any of you ever need someone, day or night, don't hesitate to reach out. It will never be an inconvenience.

Happy Thanksgiving y'all

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“Everything goes Well anything goes, all of the time Everything you dream of Is right in front of you And liberty is a lie” I really hope, collectively, we all make it through this and come out for the better. If nothing else, that this has spawned a typhoon of change.

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Damn, it’s been too long. Hoping to get new big pieces underway after the first of the year.

Getting weird with it. (at Chariot Tattoo)

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If only she actually comes as appointed. If not. . .well. . .I’ve got my eye on something a bit different as a daily mule. 

Cafe Racer Design Source Husqvarna Svart Pilen 401 @caferacerdesign

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Digging around, found some stuff and artists I’ve not thought about in years. The future is far different from what I had planned last I heard this. I reckon it’ll be much different that I’ve got planned down the line. She had a smile that would make you put your faith in the Lord She was the unspoken truth I was lookin' for I was a bitter hearted twister, I was a refugee And just a scared little boy lost at sea

She said she kissed my lips and she just knew And in her sunset eyes, I saw it too But this world has a way of breakin' you down 'Til the fire that burned now can't be found I guess no one really knows the price that's pain And there ain't no heart that goes scot free I hear the bells ringin' from far away And the future ain't what it used to be When it turned to dust I cannot say I guess she lost her faith when I lost my way Though I loved her more than I dreamed I could A coward now stands where her hero stood I guess no one really knows the price that's pain And there ain't no heart that goes scot free I hear the bells ringin' from far away And the future ain't what it used to be Well, from the outstretched hand that I denied To the anguished tears that sunset, cried From the hurt in the dark, the fear and the doubt She couldn't give anymore, her love ran out

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“I’m not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information” -Calvin (Bill Watterson) Seriously how I feel on a daily basis. I suspect more than half the shit in my brain has no real use, maybe bar trivia, but that’s about it. Ex. The largest great white was about 23 ft in length caught near the Azore Islands. Taiwan is the former Republic or Formosa (ish) The zipper was technically created in 1851, but not truly perfected and modernized until 1913. 10 seconds and that is but a mere glimpse of the useless information on demand in my brain computer.

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Pretty much how I feel every time I get behind the wheel of Aethon. But, hot damn is she fun!

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Just. Damn. Molina knew how to exercise his demons in words and music. Wish it would've been enough. Music certainly lost a great.

Songs Ohia-Lioness

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All my life, my heart has sought a thing I cannot name.

Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga (via thequotejournals)

This resonates. been doing plenty reading of late

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Every-time I come back to this band and really listen, I am just so damn enamored by not only the lyrics, but the way they tie together with the music. 

Once upon a time, my advice to you would have been go out and find yourself a whore But I guess I’ve grown up, because I don’t give that kind of advice anymore Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt I was 27 when I figured out that blowing my brains wasn’t the answer So I decided, maybe I should find a way to make this world work out for me And my good friend Paul was 83 when he told me; that “To love is to feel pain” And I thought about that then and I’ve thought about that again and again Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt “To love is to feel pain” there ain’t no way around it The very nature of love is to grieve when it is over The secret to a happy ending is knowing when to role the credits Better role them now before something else goes wrong No, it’s a wonderful world, if you can put aside the sadness And hang on to every ounce of beauty upon you Better take the time to know it there ain’t no way around it If you feel anything at all Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt So if what you have is working for you, or you think that it can stand a reasonable chance, and whatever’s broken seems fixable and nothing’s beyond repair If you still think about each other and smile before you remember how screwed up it’s gotten or maybe dream of a time less rotten Remember, it ain’t too late to take a deep breath and throw yourself into it with everything you got It’s great to be alive Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt / Gonna be a world of hurt

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Perspective is so important when you’ve been through bad things or when you’ve done bad things. First you have to figure out a way to get out from under that feeling of shame. That’s the worst, because you can’t fix anything if you’re still feeling like you brought everything on yourself.

Jason Isbell (via constellation-funk)

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Home Status : Updated

The title is what popped into my head, as green code on a black screen. A matrix-esque message flashing behind my eyes, as I flirted with sleep. The seat belt sign dinging back on again, as the 737 encountered more rough air, shaking off the hopes of a snooze.  I was heading home. Leaving behind the city that once was my home.  Despite my fantastic visit; renewing my memory of good friends faces, overindulgence of many kinds, gorgeous art, making better friends with loose acquaintances, riding some truly awesome motorbikes (2002 T-100, 1958 Triumph Thunderbird, 1975 CB-750 Chopper), and getting to see the city from a different perspective. I realized that it was no longer home. Hell, I think part of that is why I made the decision to leave in the first place. I think it might be shock. Also certainly have caffeine running through my veins at the moment. Actually, I think I can say this feeling of identifying with my new home, is a dollop of happiness. I made the right choice. For once.  Friends Garry and Karee have a damn fine coffee shop. I drank my weight in coffee. . .maybe twice

Moroccan Hand of Fatima that was gifted my way. . .Its supposed to be for protection . . not sure if I should take that as an insult hahaha.

Always nice to drop by and see Jason and Co. at Reserve

My “big brother” (as he likes to think) got me hooked on this graphic novel series

I tripped on Grant’s yard lemon as it was hiding in the grass in ambush (I also might’ve been so hungover I wasn’t a functional being)

Also had to drop by and see my friends at Catalina

Pretty much a constant view the whole trip. . but slightly fuzzier most of the time

The excuse for my trip was my buddy John Jenkins art opening. I only captured a few shots, but I was certainly impressed. Medal Of Valor : 2016

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A new thing

Well, I’ve got some free time, so I decided to try something kinda new. Mostly to attempt to get out of my own head. This was my first day with this camera, luckily there was a vintage boat show, I’d say unfortunately it rained, but I think that may not be such a bad thing. 

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Wet Paper Towel

I might’ve spilled my coffee this morning, just a little bit. Shivering in the cold. Well, cold to me. It’s all relative and I reckon I ought to get used to it.  It seems, sometimes, the most insignificant events can slap you in the face with profound understanding; All that we are, and all that we do, is on one big chalkboard. Now, you can be the chalk, or the eraser.  You can most certainly erase some of your own life. I don’t mean longevity, but you can negate any of the good chalk tick marks, and make them disappear. 

Now, we’ve always known that it is rarely all the good done remembered. As humans, it seems in our nature to gravitate towards the dark and depressing, to remember those things above others. One must only watch all the big news stories today to understand that. Dark sells, sex sells, death sells.  Recently I made a few shit decisions. You can also read few, in the previous sentence as, a metric fuck-ton. A compendium of those transgressions, would be a lengthy read. I became my own eraser. I have erased people from my own life, with these actions. Most of the reason I moved across the country, erased. 

Not just a simple eraser, those leave chalk dust and residue, no no no, I was the wet paper towel on the chalkboard at the end of the school year. Utterly gone. All of it. I erased my own life. No one else to blame, no one else to be angry with, no one. I can sit here and be distraught on my own, back on track. I spilled my coffee this morning. We are continually spilling ourselves into this world and onto those around us, that is a beautiful and wonderful thing, this chalkboard of life. It can also be wiped away. Don’t be the wet paper towel or the eraser. Stop. Think. You don’t just affect you. You aren’t alone but you could be and trust me, life is better shared. It seems easy enough, but if you don’t work at it, you can be wiping everything away in the blink of an eye.  I spilled my coffee this morning, and I don’t want to clean it up.