Sunday, July 26, 2009

They claim we're products from the bottom of hell.

While looking for a shoulder holster on ebay and I came across this.
File under: Wow.

Heath Kirchart. Total legend, and the guy responsible for so many young skateboarders riding Harleys, whether on the Emerica tours or otherwise.
The downturned pipes in wrap look super evil and makes me wanna punch things.
I was gonna caption this, "killing it on 4 wheels or 2", but that would be pretty gay.
Too late.
Poached from Epicly later'd, thanks Patrick.

It's been a long time coming, and after months of scouring, many lost auctions and one brutally hot afternoon at the LBC swap, I have finally scored the chrome dog bones I've been lusting after.
For running on 1" bars, 3.5" rise, and most importantly, either the cleanest N.O.S. I've ever seen, or someone is repro'ing these hecka perf. Either way, I'm into it.

And while I've been typing, I also won these.
For 7/8" bars (which is what I currently have, but I wanted to get the 1" setup pictured above just in case I wanted to make custom bars, in which case I'd do 1" cause they look and feel more aggressive and solid).
These are a 4" rise, which would look sick with the ill headlight I'm probably gonna run. (I still owe you for that one, Beans, I haven't forgot).

So if you were one of the 100+ schmos watching either set of these today and wondered where they went, I say to you, "refresh" suckas. I ate shit on the swap-meet-killer known as ebay for months, and today was my time to shine, so bite the weenie - with relish.

These are genuine Flanders, the others, not so sure, but I care about as much as a sushi chef works on Monday.

But fear not, whichever pair I don't use will be sold along with some other bullshit I've been stockpiling that I don't need, so there you go, as Grand Puba once said and JT reiterated, "what goes around comes back around again."

Friday, July 24, 2009

Got gear I wear, for everyday, boutiques from France to the USA.

This isn't gonna be a heavy post, so I will save the real talk on Dash for another post along with the hundreds of amazing photos I've been amassing.
Purple supplement book.
Very happy, it's my anniversary present to myself.

Along with these beautiful black, Jason Jessee Vans Syndicate joints that were so me that my boy Casey at Val Surf called to ask my size the moment they arrived. He was right.

The moto/workboot hook-eyelets are a nice touch.

A little too, Waingro and "Hey brother", but I like it.

The notch back upper = super cozy skating and riding.

In other Killing It news, Eric Brunetti over at Fuct and SSDD is pretty much the most inspiring dude out there right now, in my not so humble opinion.
Most of this stuff has been around for a minute, but I still get pumped every time I peep it, and now the obsession has bubbled over and I just had to hit him up and get my hands on some.

I've always been more into the whole Patty Hearst thing than the Manson girl trip. Maybe I'm a softy, but rich girl newspaper heir turned black revolutionary bank robbing moll is a lot sexier than scumbag Midwest hippie drifter chick with a dirty party vadge killing innocent people.
I dunno, call me crazy.

The Nam patch thing is epic.

And the Vanishing point name tag and AMA vs. 1% patch riff is genius.

And finally, while my lovely wife was picking out her anniversary presents at Panty Raid, I stumbled upon an interesting boutique I'd never seen before on Hillhurst, Steven Alan. Lots of good plaid, a few seersucker pieces, the occasional pair of pants, but mostly just really nice shirts with great cuts.
Thanks baby, it's my new favorite everyday shirt. Happy 2nd anniversary!

When some clown jumps up to get beat down, broken down to his very last compound...

The Filthy Few. A shot you don't always see. I recently finished Hell's Angel, if you haven't read it, I highly suggest you do so, even if you don't ride a motorcycle.

Sonny's knuckle. I love everything about this bike.

Like father, like son. Cool as shit, yeah, I said it, what, jealous?

The mighty TSL. Running shit.

I can't think of anything I need more.

Talk about need, holy shit, it's one size fits all, a woman's piece, kind of over the top, and way too fucking expensive, but still I COVET this. The only thing that would kind ease the pain would be to find a Grey Ant shoulder holster, but I cannot find one for the life of me, and I even called my friends over there just to make sure there weren't any dead stock sitting around with my name on it. After doing some Googling and snooping around on various sites I actually found a pic of this on Jen's blog, Gnarlitude, which I usually check up on, but I must have missed the entry with this joint. In any event, I have someone on the case trying to score one for me, translation = free, cause over a G for a women's purse/vest is a little pricey when I can get a nice leather Glock shoulder holster for about a buck fifty and scare people in the process.
Alexander Wang, you have me jonesing for your shit like my wife, and she has a vagina, go to hell.

File under "great idea!", and , "It's about time!" - silver glitter capsules to make shiny poop. Epic.

I have a tremendous amount of respect for these dudes. And while I am a mild mannered pussy from the suburbs of the valley, I totally dig on their whole trip. Long live the black biker set.

I can't even begin to tell you the horror story that has been the last few days of tire research and shopping. I'll spare you the details, as it's been like an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm only not funny, but what I will tell you is that I'll be running this beautiful Firestone ANS Military 400/18 on the rear wheel. Love it

Actually, I'll be running the same tire on the front as well, albeit in a 400/19, and this is where the shit got annoying.

Fuck it, I'll bore you.

You see, the tire I WANTED TO RUN just so happens to be a very rare, discontinued, vintage tire that is only made in one place, and that place just so happens to be called France. Unfortunately I found this out AFTER I put down my credit card and ordered it from the geniuses whose website doesn't have the ability to tell you when something is out of stock, so imagine my surprise to find out after I'd bought my rear tire from another establishment (that doesn't suck), that my DREAM front tire was not only NOT available, but that it might take 6 weeks to 6 months to receive (as they have the mold and have to wait for the baguette bender to pour a new batch). Needless to say it would have been nice to know this before I ordered my rear tire from the store that doesn't suck so that I could have consolidated shipping costs, received both tires at the same time, and not gotten my hopes up like a pimple faced teenage boy with an erection at the prom.

Thanks Performance Plus Tires of Long Beach, keep up the good work!

Here she is, the one that got away.
PS- I'm still ordering it, Vivre La France!

Speaking of douchebags.

Hey, OLDPHAT of Michigan, If you have a "Buy It Now or Best Offer" button on your ebay auction yet will not accept anything less than what the "Buy It Now" price is, then you shouldn't have the "OR BEST OFFER" part listed. You are wasting your time, you are wasting my time, and you are now officially "That Guy".
Congratulations! Your mug and shirt are on the way.

In the end I did end up buying one of these beautiful little fuckers, although not from Old Fat.
I hope it makes a good paperweight, cause I don't think it's gonna fit on my pipes.

Another douchebag.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

So who the fuck you think is livin' to this day?

Inspired by the stock, 1956 2-into-1 configuration, Mr. Barragan and myself have come up with some sick ass shotgun pipes for the project. This is an early photo when they were just tacked in mockup stage, now the upper pipe is shorter and the lower runs to the rear shock.
I am more than pleased

These just came in the mail and are gonna take it to the next level. 

Dash Snow. Such a talent, such a waste. 
I used to see him around town all the time, and we'd do that "do I know you" stare down.
He used to kick it with mutual friends, and for years I wondered "who was the skinny dude with the beard and fedora?"- but since that could describe just about anybody on Cahuenga or Echo Park Blvd on any given night, I kept the question to myself.
Finally one night while checking out his work online I came upon a picture of him and it all came together, the face, the name, the work.
At first his work bummed me out big time, the kind of irritation that when peeled away reveals the type of envy one feels when someone comes up with the great idea before you.
The semen art particularly pissed me off. Not cause I thought it was a cop out, gimmick, or trying to out-Terry, Terry, but more so that deep down I was like, this kid is epic.

Once I let go of the beard envy and got over my own shit, I dug the whole trip - the tagging and Irak, the Saddam obsession, the polaroids, the "nests", the New York Post pieces, and the shades of My Own Private Idaho that more than permeated his art brat/street urchin persona.

No matter what you think or say, invariably the work of a man speaks for itself, and he was the real deal. Whether you think he was a genius or a poser doesn't matter, cause the work will be judged for what it is, though it will be hard if not impossible to separate it from the myth now that he's gone.

When I was young I feared I'd join the 27 club.
I'm really glad I wasn't that stupid and stuck around for the good parts.