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

Jane says, 

"Have you seen my bike around?

I feel naked without it"

It’s June 24...   ...6-24. 

Loteria card #25 El Borracho is one of my all time favorites. 

In addition, I know a guy named Two-Five, he’s now in New Orleans or off-shore. 

twenty-five or six to four 

run the numbers

plug & chug

In Situ Resource Utilization

If and when Buddha ever wants to meditate in Gerberding Hall,  there’ll be a fake-as-fuck fig tree on the 2nd floor thanks to me via the FedEx-Ground half-ass chuffer that schluffed it off onto the electric ass bathtubs, with all the other shit he didn’t want to deal with.  

The significance of the fig tree is not lost on me, as I find myself beneath the Bodhi tree consistently… …day in, day out. The same on the weekends as the rest of the days. Meditation, if you will. A random name generator. A kegerator. Georgetown Bodhizafa IPA. Point Break. Patrick Swayze. Bodhi. Bodhisattva. Buddha. Fig tree. 

Full circle cyclical cycle hand-delivered via bicycle. 

YOU ARE NOT HERE

Oh Eight…  …maybe you are

And you may find yourself over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house you go driving through McCleary in Grays Harbor County. 

Perhaps you’re taking your bike off the train in PDX down to visit Steve in Multnomah County. 

Maybe you’re reconnecting with a high school girlfriend, having coffee in Lake Oswego -you know bro- that’s in Clackamas County. 

And you may ask yourself

Well, how did I get here? 

What would you do if I sang out of tune? I mean what would you do with a huge stack of old USGS maps? Pennies on the dollar at  UW Surplus. I snagged two off the top of the pile. Spending $1 and then spending my Saturday morning, creating these 10 postcards. One More One Less ONEWAY or Another one-of-a-kind hand made scraps of cardboard in Rainier Beach. 

I don't have any high school girlfriends in Lake Oswego. But I do have an old school appreciation for maps printed on paper, much like my old school appreciation for postcards.  

The Grays Harbor County card is on its way to Gramma Judy in Aberdeen. The SE Rip City grid is on its way to Steve in NW PDX. The colorful Clackamas mashup is on its way to Wamsley, who as those in-the-know know, knows a thing or two about maps. The seven other cards may find their way to you two and you two and you two too some day, plus or minus one.  

Cheers to old school arts & crafts

Cheers to dot-a-lot dimensional craft paints

Cheers to the solstice

Rainier Vista

Rainier Beer

YOU ARE HERE

when one’s not enough

and six is too many

go  18-pack

postapocalyptic

e l l i p t i c

triptych

upcycled

recycled

bicycled

postcard

hand-delivered 

if anyone

knows anything

about beer

it’s Seattle

messengers

I wasn’t looking for the “Oracle of the 07 Energies Journal”

But it was looking for me    when

it found me in the little free library

Seek and you will find

it was a good little library day, as I snagged this and two more Jean Thompson books too

I have a sincere appreciation for World Cup Soccer — on television.  Sincerely for real really.  An authentic appreciation for the beautiful simple game matching vastly differing styles from around the world.  Matches between teams that would never ever ever ever ever play each other, outside this epic extravaganza.  Good stuff. It is. Aside from the corrupt FIFA politics. That’s another story.  

It’s all good. Until it isn’t. When the WORLD  CUP comes  to my  back yard, it’s GODDAMN KIDS GET OFF MY TRAIN. This thing is throwing a WRENCH into my muscle-memory-zombie bike-train-bike commute.  And it’s only just begun.  

However, Gigo has it all dialed. He’s the one telling them how it  is. Sitting on the couch for the next two weeks, recovering, he’ll be watching every single game on TV and not going anywhere near  the lightrail fucked up shitshow.  

Send your positive vibes Gigo’s way as you watch it all on TV. 

Not Not In My Back Yard 

My epic 15 mile  bike  ride  home  yesterday from the 98195 to the 98178 seemingly took forever. Because it did. Maybe because it was 90 fucking degrees. Maybe because it retraced and regurgitated so much history of so many past commutes from the Eileen Court,  the 12th Ave apartment,  the house on the hill, Bruce Lee’s grave, The Hop Vine, Kids Company, Shame Works, Elliott Bay, WA Legal, Seattle Legal, Perfect Wheels, Mad Fiber, Cool Guy, Six Arms, Bensons, Elysian, Chucks, and so on and so on

The first stage is denial

a false front force field

feels like a strong foundation

A liberal arts education

The cast iron skillet beneath your next meal

The merino wool beneath your wardrobe 

Layer upon layer

Addition & subtraction 

Plus or minus

Here or there

Now and then

There’s no i in denial 

Moon is the one telling dogs how it is

Moon isn’t into Gilmore Girls

Moon is a 9lb hammer

Moon does not care for Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix

the consumer price index

the cost of jet fuel

wordle

pickleball

crypto

the Knicks  

I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer

I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer

The future’s uncertain and the end is always near

This is me quoting 87 quoting Jim Morrison

repeat as often as necessary

Seven years went under the bridge

like time was standing still...

This is me quoting OMD

O  M  G

1/2 century + 07

Nine months ago we were welcoming the student population back to campus. Now finals week is wrapping up another academic calendar year. Graduation ceremonies abound. Caps & gowns all around. 50,000 people will soon disappear from the 98195…

summer time      and the

living is easy    it’s snot

rocket surgery 

roundtrip complete

full circle

cyclical cycle

via bicycle

out & back

inside out

taken out of context

and put back in

silkscreened on

free tote with

subscription

Architectectural Digest

kickstand

inside 

outside

come around

(who’s that?) 

the  Retrospec Beaumont City Bike

Step-Through  7-speed

$299.99

$120.00  assembly fee + IPA

$    0.00  shipping

______________

$420  total

This bike cost about $69 to produce in China. But it will cost you about $420 to have it shipped to your front porch and then have your local former bike-mechanic former bike-messenger assemble it, including a 6-pack of IPA he requests with his assembly fee. 

In the end you'll have a WalMart level bike as well as 1.5 cubic yards of packing material, plastic, cardboard, garbage and empty beer cans.  

This is based on a true story that began to unfold yesterday in my neighborhood and in my garage. I was referred to a neighbor by another neighbor.  I threw out a three digit assembly fee because I didn't really want to do this. I’ll let you know how it all turns out. 

If the Lauf fork is the antithesis of my steel bike philosophy. This bike is the antithesis of all my years working at Bike Works refurbishing hundreds and hundreds of sweet used bikes and keeping them out of the landfill. 

$420 at Bike Works will still buy you a solid used bike that’s built to a level of quality far beyond this $69 thing from Retrospec.

I never had a paper route as a kid. But as a messenger I gained a special appreciation for the work good old paperboys and girls did on bikes. And now that I'm a glorifed electric ass bathtub paper boy schlepping AMAZON horseshit all around the 98195, my appreciation has grown even more. 

This paperboy personal history piece in the New Yorker is a keeper. I will not spoil the story, but the author is my age and his words speak to me on several levels...

...to the old me now as well as the young me then.   

if i waited for lessons in true confessions

that could take all day

but im here to stay

gold star for robot boy

well then that's my move 

“gold star for robot boy”

– Guided by Voices

denying

deflecting

defending

diffusing

shifting

ignoring

avoidance

distortion

procrastination

rationalization

misdirection

misinterpretation

miscalculation

minimization

over explanation

over  compensation

intellectualization

explaining it away

rub some dirt on it

walk it off

suck it up

no big deal

get over it

just ignore it

it’ll go away

...today is Thursday

20+ years  ago I got some business cards printed up.  As I was selling a few T-shirts here and there. This site started as a way to sell shirts and avoid the charges eBay started tacking on to every sale. 

“steel bike philosophy” whatever that is, is open to interpretation. But if there’s a product out there in the bike world that epitomizes the polar opposite of my steel bike philosophy, 

it’s this fork

Yesterday I saw this bike leaning on the wall free-locked outside the Miller Library.  It caught my eye enough to take a picture and make it last longer. Later, I showed the shot to Alistair and he knew right away what it was, where it’s made and how long it’s been around. I still haven’t looked at it in cyberspace. 

This is not a bike I’d like to own. This is a bike I’d like to test ride into a retaining wall.

Fork off

Fork you

What the fork?

Stick a fork in me, I’m done.  

I read the first book a few years ago when Catarina recommended it. Then one day before yesterday a neighbor placed both books neatly in the free library. So I plucked them both out, keeping the set intact. Now I’m into one more book of more delights. As it jumped into the queue leap-frogging its way to the top. Perfect backpack book of bite sized train ride reading material. 

Thanks Cat.

Thanks too to the literally literary little free library.

it's neither here nor there

it's a chair

One year ago this Wednesday I was at Sea-Fab getting an iced americano when my phone rang. I very rarely answer my phone. But I did that day because I was expecting a call from Junior’s school about her poor attendance. 

That phone call sent me down a rabbit hole for a couple hours of stress, fear, helplessness, anger, rage and embarrassment. I did not tell anyone about that phone call for nearly a year. 

Then the Spokesman Review ran this story a few weeks ago and I read it on my lunch break when the Seattle Times had it up on their site for a few hours. I read it and I cried. I cried and then I wrote a letter to the editor. 

About 17 minutes later I got a call from a news editor at the Spokesman Review to verify that I’m an actual human and I actually wrote that letter. I am and I did. I said thank you to the editor and got all choked up again. 

For a few hours I thought they might publish my letter. But I’ve since learned that their letters-to-the-editor are very brief, political and opinionated. They don’t need any thank you notes.  

My letter was basically a thank you thank you thank you note: thank you for publishing this family’s story because my story was very similar, a cliff-notes abbreviated version of this dad’s 30-hour quest to save his daughter. Our story lines were very similar: Daughter interrupted drug deal, drug dealer needs money to make up for lost funds. Holding daughter until you cough up money. Dad stays on the phone jumping through hoops, cash withdrawals, wire transfers. All the while thinking his daughter is being held at gunpoint in an SUV somewhere. 

That was me for a couple hours. But the dad in the article drove all over Washington and Idaho sending money all over the place on-the-hook for 30 hours. 

I’ll tell you all the details of my two hour shit show some day if you’re actually interested. But the S-R article and these paragraphs here are helping me let go of a shit load of anger and embarrassment. 

If any of these & those words help to prevent another family from falling into a similar shitshow scam, then it’s worth it.

If you answer your phone make sure it’s real. for real. really.  

let it go

to voicemail

Part of my job description involves sorting mail.  Early mornings at the mothership, sorting through tubs of flats and trays of letters from the USPS before heading out on the electric ass bathtub. 

The  first hour of the day I’m in autopilot robot mode sorting through hundreds and hundreds of letters, cards, medical journals, magazines, catalogs, newspapers, large envelopes, whatnots, curios, baubles, trinkets and brick-a-brack knickknacks. Sorting it all into neat little cubby piles for each of the different routes around campus, all the various medical centers, downtown, Harborview, UW Bothell and UW Tacoma too. 

But once in a while, as I’m plowing through it all,  I pause and smile when I realize: “this one’s for me” 

This postcard is from Thai Bui, my penpal in Palo Alto. It arrived on Friday tucked neatly into a tray of letters and ended up in my hands. The postmark placement on the front-side adds to its overall one-of-a-kindness. This is original artwork. And with two stamps on it, you can call it a postcard too. 

read a book

read it again

give  it  to  a  friend

and talk about the zen 

At the University Book Store I paid full-on MSRP for “The Copywriter” and “It Lasts Forever and Then It’s Over” But “Juliet, Naked” and “do not deny me” fell into my hands freely from the little free library. 

The “Body Dynamics” book was also free. Its zen & zest bring me joy on a few different levels with a 66-year-old design aesthetic, artwork and illustrations.  

I do not subscribe to DANCE magazine. I do, however, deliver it to the dance department at Meany Hall 

Madeline Woo got my attention and I took another look 

She is a true badass 

at ALL TIMES on ALL DAYS 

if at first 

you don’t   s e e 

ply a ply again

coats of polyurethane 

pleasing patterns 

in the plywood

apparitions appear

singing loud & clear

Our Lady of Cheap Beer

Rainier

waxing & waning 

it’s never “done”

Doppler Effect blue shift

wabi sabi    r e d   s h i f t

evolving revolving devolving 

if at first 

you don’t   s e e

ply a ply again

recombinant combinations

reiterating   re i t e r a tions

regurgitating regurgitations

in situ

resource

utilizations

doing the same things

e x p e c t i n g

different results

to be continued

ad   n a u s e a m

pull up a chair

What would you do with a stodgy, high-brow AD tote bag from a free pile? 

Pretend you actually subscribe to Architectural Digest?  

Save $0.27 on bag fees at the grocery store? 

Sell it on eBay? 

No

No

No

invert and multiply

flip it    inside out 

& silkscreen on it

amethyst here 

magenta there

n o b o d y 

has one of these

from high gloss AD exclusivity

to beer soaked messenger zine

“What’s a zine?”  she asks

“We’ve been over this before.”  I say and walk away

my other cat is a badass

This is Moon. He’s Cosmo’s brother from the same mother. Litter mates. But polar opposites. Cosmo is big and fluffy and weighs over twice as much as Moon. Moon is skinny and scrappy. Cosmo is lounging in the flower bed pondering philosophical problems. While Moon is in the driveway, on the sidewalk or on the car staring down dogs, holding his ground, arching his back, puffed out tail, hissing and bared teeth. All nine pounds of him defending the block from intruders. Many neighborhood dog walkers cross the street as they approach the house, just to avoid Moon. 

Moon will let you pet him but only when he says it’s OK. Sometimes he’ll take a swipe at my leg as I pass him, drawing blood. When I ask him why he did that, he says, “just for fun. just because I can” 

Several weeks ago Moon came home with a very large wound on his side. After a few hours in emergency surgery and numerous stitches on a huge scar, he survived. He had to stay inside for weeks, wearing a cone. He was not happy.

You can see in the photo his left side is still shaved down as is his left front leg. But he’s happy to be an outdoor/indoor cat again.  

Moon is a badass. 

Cosmo is a fluffy stoner.

Cosmo & Moon

May 21, 2021

"Using vodka to deodorize clothes is a brilliant backstage trick. The alcohol acts as a natural disinfectant, killing the bacteria that cause odors. As the vodka evaporates, it pulls the stale smells out of the fabric with it—leaving no scent of alcohol behind"

I didn't know this until I read about the Pacific Northwest Ballet costume shop blowing through gallons of vodka in "Nutcracker" season. 

It brings me joy to read of UW history while rolling around the UW campus on a purple & gold electric ass bathtub. If you’re just a tiny bit aware of UW football history, you know of Don James, Jim Lambright and Slick Rick Neuheisel.  You probably know of Jerramy Stevens as well. But you'll know a whole lot more when you get into this book. 

I’m only a few chapters in, but I can recommend it to you as I'm rolling along Rainier Vista past Drumheller fountain, on to Husky Stadium, the football office, the Don James statue and Conibear Shellhouse as well. Not to mention the Admissions office, the President’s office and the Board of Regents too. 

This is no “Boys in the Boat” feel good triumph over adversity.  This is no "Snow Falling on Cedars". It’s major college football history with plenty of complicity. 

Similar stories have played out in Eugene, Los Angeles, Boulder, Lincoln, Ann Arbor, Columbus, Austin, College Station, State College, Knoxville, Baton Rouge, Tuscaloosa, Athens, Miami and Gainesville. But most sports reporters stay on the sunny side, always on the sunny side. Glad handing, back slapping, looking the other way, looking at the scoreboard. 

But these two reporters from the Seattle Times didn’t look away. They asked difficult questions. They dug deeper, focusing on the 2000 UW football season and all the criminal behavior that was basically overlooked. 

The title of the book is rather cheesy, but it fits. Neuheisel coined the phrase when he was coaching at Colorado, before he came to UW. Win at all costs: “Scoreboard Baby”

You won’t find this book in the U Bookstore or the UW football office. The Seattle Public Library has only one copy for “in-library use only”. What’s that all about?  I got my copy on eBay for $5. 

Read a book. Read a book. Read a motherfucking book.