"The Oakland air is a little brisk tonight, the type of cold air that moves through you, no deflection just injection. Not east coast cold, but just this northern california cold that seems to creep up from under you feet and up your side, finding that little space between the collar of your jacket and your neck, and whispers to those little hairs running done your spine, saying "hello, i'm winter and i'm here." I was motoring through that air on the motorcycle tonight, a happy balance of throttling and braking accompanied by the occasional squeal of the tire and pop of the exhaust. The old motor underneath me happy to breath in the winters air and spit it out the exhaust in an even grumble. Sometimes it's a trip being on the busy rush hour streets on the old bike, dueling with the commuter hurrying to get home to his wife's "pasta night" and their favorite show. Feeling like a fish swimming the wrong way in a river… i read this the other day.."Abnormal swimming is usually one of the first symptoms of something being wrong in your aquarium." Not sure if i related, as the aquarium being this city, or this planet but there was some personal relation none the less. Some of my best thinking is done motoring around on this old bike. Tonight i got the cranial gears spinning pretty good. Mostly thinking about the season, the almighty Holiday Season. I've lost a few very close friends during this time of year. It can wear on people. There is some sort of treacherous holiday digestion,of your ears swallowing jingle bells tunes and eyes ingesting one more advertisement for the ultimate under the xmas tree gift. This season seems to create some heightened reflection on the past and magnify it. Friends lost, relationships failed, broken hearts, maybe the combination of all of those. It can be a lowdown lonesome time of year. I guess it's why i sat down to write this….. because I'm ok and tonight i just felt like reminding people to keep those that you care about close and keep an eye on those that you love. Don't let someone slip away that's going through it, that needs an ear or a beer, or a kind word. Fuck, you know even with all the bullshit that comes with Xmas, flying by all the lights and smelling the fresh cut tree scent pouring out of the local tree lot is not that bad. Stay strong, make it through it. Don't waste your time on the petty shit, look down road and give it gas, ride into it. Love those that need it, and want it, let the unkind words and judgments be the air behind your ears. ......"- Max Schaaf
http://4qconditioning.blogspot.com/

Pan Lovin's, Good Lovin.

They do Exist

Internet Rodeo: Tall Bike Edition

All photos found on the open prairie of the internet. i do not own or claim any part of them.

 

Slow and Heavy.

http://stonedjesus.bandcamp.com/album/first-communion
In Mother Ukraine, dronestone drag you.

"i just blew my speaker listening to this song"

With each breath I drag in the blackness of death.

A suicide witch froths from the breath. Shallow graves dug for pure flesh.

You will see us rising from the crypts of true believers. The masons,

diggers of the dead, reveal the dreams of obscure dreamers.

Shallow graves 

Death has a promise

Ramble on.

We travel time. We are time travelers. We created time. What is time really about.. When you travel at the speed of light for one earth year your body ages five earth years. And what is an earth year to begin with.

Aces and Eights, the Tale of the Dead Mans Hand.

He heard the sound of wood creaking as he approached the old Masonic Cemetery late one night. “The dead are uneasy”, he thought to himself jokingly and continued up the road. He felt a pull on his insides. Something, more so “someone” was enticing his desire to walk through that dark cemetery as he had done many times before as a young boy but even later as a teen. He felt as if an old friend down the street was calling his name motioning for him to come down there and say hello. But there was no one down the street, no one was calling his name, yet this same feeling hung around.

The iron rod gate had not been opened for quite some time, he could tell by the cobwebs and debris plastered to each upright, but the shrill ungreased scream of a squeak which came from the gates’ hinges was the tell tale sign. He was seemingly alone surrounded by hundreds maybe thousands of bodies buried beneath him. Buried all around him, marked and unmarked. Dead and undead.

The hand that reached out of the earth and grabbed him first he saw from ten feet away. The mere fact that an ancient decayed fist was protruding from the ground intrigued his core. The rotted bony remains of the hand was motionless. He could see the rest of the wrist and arm in the dirt as if a Human Bonzai Tree had been planted above the grave.

The Grave site was marked:

Marcel Macgregor

Seventeen Years Old

Died the Year 1879.

The tombstone was old, worn from decades of elemental abuse.

The dates spelt out so neatly in a font which emphasized such regality.

He wondered about her life. Where she had lived: Where she had died?

He stepped into the darkness following an unknown sensation that where he would be going life would be better. He would feel peace and tranquility, a connection with his surroundings, the world around him. For a short moment as he was half way in and halfway out a complete serenity took over his senses; physically and mentally he was nothing, but at the same time he was everything. It lasted just that though, a short moment, for the next would seem an endless eternity.

The night had evoked so many emotions already, that in his mind, he was in for the long haul. Ride out the storm and hope for a happy ending. But you see, his vision of a happy ending may differ from your own.

THIS AND THAT

Finally some news

So last night in a drunken rage I decided it was time to start updating again and letting all you boozehounds know how real people party. So first of all, I want to mention that James Fox is back on a bike after what seems like a year and prior to getting his bike stolen a few months ago. Good to have you back James. On a second note, word from the cell mates is that Luke Kidd has been in El Dorado County Jail for the last week (i think). Rumor has it arsonry was the cause to his arrest but I can't be sure. Well, thats it for now, time to hit the bottle and the streets on the 20. BOTTOMS UP! Cheers.