this guy went in the Army and grew a bicycle out of his back
Girls were practicing routines on the track and I heard cheering and the kid who painted his car yellow all by himself in his garage – his mom was out there one day washing his wheels and rims – his car was parked and he had a Club on the steering wheel so no one would steal it. These are the type of people we tried to ban. You might find it hard to believe that your enemy’s mother would love her son that much, but you shouldn’t. When their sons are killed in action, you think that crying – the crying where they gnash their teeth and beat their chests like a bible scene – you think it is an act to prove America sucks. You’re right. They hate us more than they loved their children. They have children so we will kill them, so we will look bad. God do they hate us!
Why am I yelling? Why do I put words in your mouth? You weren’t even walking up the hill to my house today. You probably don’t have any problems with the Asian Community. You like Asians. And Afghanis. And Muslims. And Islamics. Those types.
You probably have problems with pigeons. Dairy. Sweatpants. Hot new country. What are you mad at? Why? People just wanna live!
This is the latest style in horse grooming. I saw all kinds of patterns shaved into different horse rumps today at work. We were spreading sand on a riding ring down in Woodside and there were more horses than a harness race milling around. They shave the whole body except where the saddle sits and some decorative finish in the right rear flank. I was afraid to put my rake down and ask a rich person why, so it remains a mystery to me still.
Rusty wouldn’t have the least idea why either…
This is the latest in footwear for Rusty Sunshine. I asked him why he was wearing white Reeboks, and he said, “They’re James. He won’t be usin ‘em.”
“Why’s that?” I ask. “He back in rehab?”
“Three years in jail,” Rus explained. So there’s Mr. Sunshine in someone else’s shoes. Something very few of us have done. James went in for repeat offenses of DUI, if you were wondering. Hit three cars this last time. Kep on goin. Let that be a warnin.
photo posted from my iPhone
So here is the joy of lettering, done with an ink that is very difficult to get off the side of my truck. I never hated the creativity involved in graffiti, just the damage it does to people. Like me. There’s a difference between calligraphy and graffiti, and I should ask Thomas what that is…
I did a dump run for a fellow today who turned out to be a professional calligrapher. He showed me his workshop but I didn’t have much time to ask him questions. It is dark outside and past midnight, so I can’t take a picture of the latest graffiti on my truck, so this blog that was going to be a compare and contrast of styles will have to be on the installment plan. Take a long look at Thomas Ingmire’s work up there and then tomorrow we’ll check out the asshole kid who used ink to mark up my vehicle. Oddly enough, they seem to be influencing each other.
Thomas will be at the Codex in Berkeley February 8th through the 11th. The Codex is a huge gathering of book artists and their creations. I’d definitely be into checking it out. Anyone wanna plan a field trip with me?
Some people tell you all you have to do is ask the universe for something and it will be given. I did not ask for a painting of a man in a sombrero, and yet there it is in the back of my truck. So how do you explain that? However, I was just yesterday talking about metal detectors, and what did I see in the median this sunny Monday afternoon in the Mission…
We’re heading out to some parks this Friday to hunt.
one of the many beautiful women in the hobby of metal detecting today
It’s a pretty long peninsula. An hour drive at seventy miles an hour. Not stoppin for nuthin either. And I love my truck and she’s old so I don’t push her past 60. The left speaker is still workin and that’s the side Fisher sat on so I turned it down so I could here him talkin. He talks real quiet. He’s a shy man. Look at the facts. He is an editor. That means he likes to be behind the camera. That’s the first thing. He smokes hella weed. Hella bein a lot a lot. That’s second. Folks that smoke a lot of weed and stay in their room workin on the computer are probably shy, right? And he talks real quiet. It all adds up. I think Fisher is shy.
We were on the road to Foster City. Not quite half way down the peninsula. Foster City. A planned city. Built on wetlands. What kind of plan is that? Greg runs a metal detecting shop out of his garage down there. And that’s the whole point of Fisher and me drivin south for half an hour. We got his name off the internet. He is an authorized White’s dealer. White’s and Garret are the two biggest names in the treasure huntin industry. It was awesome, standin in the driveway on a cul de sac in a planned community and watchin a garage door rumble on it’s automatic pulley, slowly revealin a wall full of danglin electronic magnetic meters.
Equipment for dreamers. Protective dreamers. Stand offish perhaps. They have secret huntin grounds, caches of coins and jewelry hidden in boxes in their homes. Strong hunches where lost treasure may lie. But they work nine to five jobs in the government – Greg was a motorcycle cop. They have a wife, a mortgage – not a pack mule and the whole summer to head into the mountains.
Stand offish till they get to know you. Dreamers need each other, they need someone else to believe with. Someone whose eyes will light up and feed the fire. Greg saw it in us. So we stood in his garage and talked about metal detectin, and got invited to The Bay Area Searchers next meeting. A secret society of metal detector enthusiasts held in the hallowed halls of a local church function hall.
Please stay tuned for the next excitin chapter, where we meet these fellow coin shooters.