what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

arrows on elbows

elbows on arrows

As the temperature drops into the 40s I’ve pulled some layers out of storage. This hoodie I’ve had for years got called up recently. It’s an Outdoor Research full-zip fleece hoodie. Broken-in in a scruffy crusty commuter kind of way. Just like all my clothes. 

On Saturday I added some arrows to both elbows. 24 hours later the paint was still wet. I used a super-opaque white that’s as thick as a brick. So thick it’s tough to squeegee through the silkscreen. But it’s opaque. Its opacity is without question. It’s opaqueness beyond compare. However it takes forever and a day to dry. 

I wanted to accelerate the drying process and wear that thing to work, because I wouldn’t want your job on a day like this. 

I don’t have a hair dryer. But I do have a heat gun. Hair dryers blow about 140 °F. Heat guns can blow up to 1200 °F. What could go wrong? It’s like being thirsty and trying to take a sip of water from a pressure washer. 

I wafted the heat gun over the arrows in a couple different...

An amalgamation of positive attributes in an amorphous setting neither here nor there but oh so all the way there all in my mind 

satirical yet deeply moving

a poignant and ironic commentary on life

a raw and naked acceptance of the messy, often painful nature of life

A few weeks back I stumbled upon the Iowa alumni magazine featuring a Kurt Vonnegut portrait on the cover. After reading the article inside about the painting and learning more about the artist and Vonnegut as well, I decided I needed to read “Slaughterhouse-Five”. Then the very next day I found a copy in the little free library. 

Ruminating on the book upon completion, I had a vague recollection of a past show at the Henry Art Gallery titled “everything was beautiful and nothing hurt”  At the time of the show back in 2022-23, I had no clue it was a Vonnegut line. 

But in September of 2025 it all came together when I asked Margarita at the Henry if she could retrieve the poster for that show from the archives. It turns out she is the “poster person” at the Henry and was the perfect person to ask....

720mm = 1 country mile

Action Figure Freud:  "What’s up Bobby Bobble Head? You get to go for a ride with that well placed zip tie. Round and Round. While I’m stuck in this little free fucking library with two screws, phillips and star-drive too. No Freudian slips here. Horseshit. Lips. Lisp. Slip. Slips. Lippy. Slippy. Tippy. Tipsy. Tips."  

Bobble Head Freud: "Be careful what you wish for bro. Chill out. Have another cigar. Bend your elbow. Turn your head. Bend your other elbow."  

Around about 15 years ago Sally Claus sent me this Raleigh Port Townsend. Shipped it directly, did he, to Mad Fiber as a Christmas present early. When Sally was Raleigh. Raleigh was Sally.

It’s been kicking around here ever since. The only OE thing left is the headset. Multiple handlebar combinatorial configurations continue on with this bull-moose Still Cruisin' bar made by Nitto and brought to you and me too by SimWorks. As you know, the dream of the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s & 90’s is alive in Portland. Rip City. PDX.

This handlebar recently rolled into my garage and today I installed it with some SunTour levers, cables & housing and OURI grips.

Somewhere in that there nip & tuck session a strategically placed zip tie went between bobblehead Sigmund’s lips and on around the front hub. It will allow intentional Freudian slips. Clockwise and or counterclockwise too, depending on your point of view. 

Why? 

You might ask. 

Why not? 

I might say. 

This bar is 720mm of steel reminding me to chill out, shut up and enjoy the ride. Thanks Sally. Thanks Nitto. Thanks SimWorks. 

you can read all about the Still Cruisin'...

I wasn’t exactly sure why these tepid milquetoast haikus bothered me so much. Then the big boss told me they were AI generated.

The robot was only concerned with staying within the parameters, counting syllables with beige safe word choices. A complete lack of feeling or emotion. Vapid.  No sounds or smells or anything that occurs in nature. Less authenticity than the nacho cheese pump at 7-11.

There’s a growth unfolding in the back of my throat, maybe it's a haiku... 

this is a haiku I would be proud to stick on the side of my electric ass bathtub

Sweater Weather

and or

Trippin Balls

They say denial is the first stage. But I find myself flying through stages six, seven, eight and on into nine, still trying to play my denial card. All along the way the cashiers say, “I’m sorry sir, your denial card has been denied” 

You may have noticed I’m doing a lot of looking back these days. Perhaps it’s because the here & now is so so fucked. A total shit show. So so fucked.  

I’m looking back at times I can manufacture and manipulate in my head, adjusting the hue, to create a picture, however contrived, that’s a bit more comforting than current events. It’s my own special phantom nostalgia syndrome. It makes sense because I made it make sense. 

Like Kurt Vonnegut said

EVERYTHING 

WAS

BEAUTIFUL

AND

NOTHING

HURT

I can’t even begin to talk about the FUCKED UP shit that fills the so-called news these days. Maybe it’s because I took some Tylenol and now I’m autistic. 

Moving forward 

Looking back 

Retrospect

Watching Matt Messenger sell weed to each and every attorney in need right there in their very own law firm mailroom 

Buying acid from Pip...