Tubular Tuesday Tunes tonight go to, "Q Lazzarus- Goodbye Horses".
And to Marc Johnson for killing it always on a skateboard using this risky but amazing song choice and being my favorite shredder on four wheels. I bombed some hills today on my friends board. Sick times! Shred the gnar!
Stay heavy kids. Open your ears!
Plus you don't have to search the New Jersey Boardwalk for bootleg VHS tapes of bands you like performing live for $35.00 man, you kids don't understand how lucky you are. I once at the ECW Arena purchased a FMW Japanese Death Match VHS Bootleg with Onita vs Mr.Pogo which was totally worth the $30.00 charge and the bragging rights to my friends of this new form of ultra violent wrestling which made dudes like The Rock just look like chodes. This is also before ICP ruined wrestling.
So enjoy this live Sigur Rós performance without running to Tunes On The Dunes.
Pure beauty in auditory form.
Earlier today I injured my arm trying this bump jump gap to wallride and didn't get on correctly and just slammed my shoulder and already injured knee. Its not Gary Ginch gnarly talking wound deep, but its in a terrible place and will be a bitch to heal correctly. So I get the boot after accidently letting out a Sean Burns type of yell from my jurassic blood and of course John Doe property owner comes out and threatens to beat my ass before calling the Police. Sick idea bro! Go to jail for assault.
This post has nothing to do with Garret Byrnes but I love the guy!
But back on to the Leather Jacket story, around 2004 I had my first real girlfriend at nineteen. Yeah Im pathetic I know. All life to me when I was in high school was being Straight Edge, going to HxC shows with Navaz and Lou, Bike Night at the Skatepark, and being lucky enough to witness some of Van Homan's Little Devil Criminal Mischief bangers be performed in real life. It was an amazing time to be a teenage and into the BMX and Hardcore scenes. But people grow out of music and even bicycles which is a part of life I never quite could grasp. Carving over a pool light, or roasting a hip will never get old to me. Those of you who think BMX is just some little kid phase and maybe they should done a pair of football pads really should let their children rough themselves up as their own coach, and their friends their team mates behind the handlebars. BMX made me a strong human being up until I was midway to being 19 and decided to have a wild accident drunk session playing Tony Hawk 3 in West Philly with Ghetto Steve, Paul Horan, and this kid named Poopsex a.k.a Roberto Donato a.k.a Speedwolf.
Believe me Im pissed, 18 years of being a miserable sober determined prick behind a bicycle and most importantly my parents trust to go on sick cross country trips with my best friends. (No homo me and Tom White developed a big brother, little brother relationship on our 42 day cross country pool,and fullpipe roadtrip two weeks out of 11th grade. He took care of me when I felt homesick, when I was hurt, or just frustrated with not having any A/C in Arizona around July 5th, 2002.) I never told Tom that, but that bond between friends who have been locked up together on a failed pool mission, rode some of the best spots in the world, have been friends since the seventh grade and shared an English class together in Senior Year makes for a good friendship. Even though calling Mr. and Mrs. White to come and pick their knocked out son up from some rail spot in Chester (the hood) or that he needs yet another pair of stitches because of his Odyssey Shark Bite Caged pedals. You get a bond and you keep that bond. No Homo alright, since BMX is so in my opinion racist and close minded anymore Im sure that some of you are probably like, "Yo I heard on The Come Up that this Adam Schnellenbach dude has like a man crush on his friend!" Nah just a close bond all because of BMX.
Fuck me though back to the Leather Jacket story. I got it from my ex-girlfriend Angela who was an amazing women by the way if she ever reads this and I wish her the best in her new life. Cheers Ang! But I had been complaining for months that I couldn't find a leather jacket that wasn't corny. I had been listening to a ton of Darkthrone, Mercyful Fate, Bathory, Morbid Angel, Incantation, and Napalm Death all the early Earache Records shit was like a gift from the underworld for my ears, and I needed the Jacket! I reckon that $300 and an imaginary spending Holiday named Christmas which celebrates this supposed birth of this fake lord Jesus Christ, I got the jacket! And she got A Broken Social Scene Record, Desparecidos, and a T-Rex DVD if my memory stands correct.
And a live version eh?
I made up for it a month before when the dudes in Mastodon gave me a broken pair of cymbols that were broken during their set, and without me asking or being twenty one, a few Buds go down my throat cold as Nordic hell itself but with that loving flavor that only a Budweiser can accomplish.
Each member of Mastodon signs the cymbols with her name wishing her a happy birthday. Needless to say she was a happy girl.
But I loved that leather jacket, it meant more to me than my feelings toward her that I couldn't express because I well never had a real girl who wasn't using me in my life before. Blowing this like Jon Lovit's blows yayo was not an option.
"Its up my nose homeboy, my bad."
So I rode my BMX in it and seriously thousands of crashes over these years of fall and winter time shredding in this jacket the wrecks have saved my skin. Im grateful for the gift, for metal, and Im sorry for the Animal who was butchered so that I could look rad, and avoid brush burns. Including one bombing a hill on my friends skateboard today after surfing The Berrics Website for about an hour and being too hurt and sore to ride 100%.
No comments:
Post a Comment