.Sherowski Daily.

So it’s summer, give or take. We went swimming for the first time, give or take. The water’s pretty icy, so it’s more of a quick dip, exactly in and out, cold knives stabbing you everywhere … then back to the towel to roast some more.

Went to see Mimicking Birds play at Mississippi Studios on Saturday. Lance went to high school with these fellows. Have you heard them? A lovely slow burn.

And lots of just enjoying the lazy afternoons. Watering the garden. Watching the peas and collards grow. Pouring a big glass of something and, “toasting the gods and letting the light fall.”

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This Monday was Go Skateboarding Day. We went skateboarding. We didn’t sell anything, buy anything, or process anything. We didn’t sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. We just went skateboarding.

Warm up zoo bomb. Downtown rampage. Mini-west Linn afternoon. Backyard mini ramp jam. It was a long day and these old knees are a’feelin it.

A small tribute to Say Anything up there, for all you John Cusack fans out there…

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I’m celebrating the longest day of the year today. Sunrise: 5:11. Sunset: 9:10. That’s for us folks up in the north country, anyway. A cool tidbit about the term “honeymoon”: pagans called the midsummer moon the honeymoon because of all the fermented honey mead they drank during summer solstice wedding festivities. So there you have it. Love. And the moon. They are linked, you know.

A bunch of pagans at Mark’s birthday BBQ. A bit of a dude-BQ.

Hood River on Sunday. Yes. The sun was shining.

I always feel like I’m way higher in the air on these and looking way cooler. And then, there it is—the truth.

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My gentleman friend found himself on ESPN Skateboarding recently—a photo in an article about cool concrete skateparks. Which is kinda funny, ’cause he’s never been a rabid fan of concrete parks. But I mean how rad is this shot? Magnum P.I. shirt. Blue sky. Mt. Shasta looming in the distance. My favorite part, though, is that sneaky patch of snow. See it over there in the shade? That’s the only way you know how cold it is. Garric shot this during a cold snap last December on their drive to Sacramento, and albeit sunny, and despite the Hawaiian shirt, I’m sure it was brisk.

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Sometimes it’s fun to read songs instead of listening to em, that way you get to appreciate them for the little poems they are.

Here’s a piece of “Suzanne,” by Leonard Cohen. It’s nice, right?

–

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river

You can hear the boats go by

You can spend the night beside her

And you know that she’s half crazy

But that’s why you want to be there

And she feeds you tea and oranges

That come all the way from China

And just when you mean to tell her

That you have no love to give her

Then she gets you on her wavelength

And she lets the river answer

That you’ve always been her lover

And you want to travel with her

And you want to travel blind

And you know that she will trust you

For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.

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Kale. Don’t you think you could convince yourself to start liking the taste of something that’s so good for you? According to Wikipedia: “a highly nutritious vegetable with powerful antioxidant properties.” It’s an anti-inflammatory. It’s very high in beta carotene, vitamin K and C, lutein, zeaxanthin, and reasonably rich in calcium. Eat it like chips, or instead of chips, and see what happens. Maybe your knees stop hurting. Maybe you live forever. Kale: Billy’s new summer project.

I’m well aware of how dangerous it is to snap photos while I’m driving, but sometimes the sun setting over the city catches you unawares and just lifts your mind. Suddenly, you can’t not risk your life to snatch some of it.

A wisteria vine in bloom. For granted, take it not. Wisterias flower whenever they damn well please. Mine? Once every four years, it seems. Rejoice! Sorry, Cathy, maybe next year for yours?

An excellent backyard—it’s called “junkyard chic,” and a raspberry mojito. This is summer at the Coulons.

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A lotta work plus endless cloudy days is like a starter pack for a shitty summer. However, all that’s about to change. Tomorrow, sunshine’s in the forecast and also I’ve made a new vow to kick more ass and take more names whilst slaving at my google machine. That way, my total work hours will be less, but my output will be the same, and my short-sleeves arm-tan should still develop nicely. Does any of this make sense? It’s summer. Procrastinating is for the birds.

With that said, here’s what’s getting it done for me, sound-wise—nothing too hard or heavy. Let’s keep it light, people.

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Been busy writing, and about to get busier. But not on the weekends. I’m traditional that way. I like to shut down the computer on Friday night and not open it again until Monday morning—with the possible exception of watching a few episodes of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations.

Have you seen the one where he goes to Sweden? Hilarious. You just can’t help loving the asshole things that come out of his mouth. We also have a game where we count the number of drinks he puts back in a given scene. In the Columbia episode, he bottoms half a bottle of white rum while waiting for some peasant soup to cook. Respect.

So Saturday was a beauty, the first real summer day we’ve seen yet, and it passed in a blur of yardwork, skateparks, and cottonwood fluff.

Sunday, the rain returned, but it was warm, almost tropical, so we went walking on Sauvie Island, our pant legs sopping within minutes, and then stopped by the farmers market for a pint of fresh strawberries still muddy from the garden.

Summer rain—just grab an umbrella and git out in it.

And on the stereo: Phosphorescent: To Willie. An entire album of Willie Nelson covers, what’s not to love?

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Just got back from a fast trip to Windell’s to skate the brand new stuff before summercamp starts this weekend.

And it’s profoundly fun.

Just officially finished yesterday, and there’re so many things to do. Transfer pockets. Surmount step-ups. Plus, banks and hips and the mini-est of mini spines. I have twenty new spine tricks I wanna try to unleash. And lots to learn up there about just riding your board—bombing around fast and finding the lines, not just back and forth on the mini ramp, which is where I always end up in my lazier moments. But anyway, Billy’s a master park builder and this is his, well, his tour de force. A masterpiece. Big things on the horizon for him and Six Feet Under. More to be disclosed on the subject at a later date. And as you can see, our session got interrupted by the life-giving June rain. Blrrrrggh.

With that said, nothing to do but come back home, take a seat on my front porch, and play this song. 2-03 Joe Tex, These Taming Blues

“All nine kinds of rains, all five kinds of thunders and eighteen white horses won’t none of ’em come to me….” Phosphorescent goodness.

And last but not least, my family is currently soaking up some sunshine in Spain right now, and so I’m re-posting these photos I took in Barcelona last winter, a dedication of sorts, to my family—all far from home, and to Spain. A direct quote from correspondence with my moms, “It always takes a day to get comfortable with the city but we have it now. I am having a different rosé with every meal just to branch out and the cheeses are so good.” Man, love me some Barcelona….

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So the long weekend’s still echoing around, making it kinda hard to work. Actually, I did work this weekend—not the sit-inside-on-the-computer stuff, but the maintaining-a-house-in-the-modern-world stuff. Like, I took apart the lawn mower and sharpened the blades (it’s an old school push mower, no motor, just a handle and turning blades, which cuts the grass slowly, all in a whirr and clatter). I also put up some crown molding, which involved exact measurements and using a savage power saw—an experience both terrifying and exhilarating.

But none of that matters. What’s important are the parties. Right? Ashley came home after weeks abroad in Sri Lanka and other steamy locales, so we all convened at the Red Flag to say hello, which quickly turned into good-bye, cuz I guess she’s already back on the road again. I drank table wine and listened to Sasha outline her upcoming road trip to Skateopia in backwoods Ohio with Traci, the dogs, a few other lady skaters, and a filmer from MTV. Can you imagine? Sounds like first class reality TV to me. No, really, just you wait. Sasha’s observations on visiting Ohio: “I know everyone’s just gonna think I’m a lesbian and that bums me out.”

The Zumiez Couch Tour hit town on Sunday, which—who gives an eff? Except that I really did, because Tricia is in charge of the Couch Tour live webcast, so it simply meant that she was in town. We met up for a cocktail cruise aboard the Portland Spirit on Sunday night—a soggy trip down the dark waters of the Willamette. There was an open bar, thank you Zumiez, and we asked the bartender what his speciality was. “Rum and coke,” was his curt reply.

Above, Lisa and Tricia, soaking in that damp, dark view, along with the engine exhaust. Below, open bar antics with Regis, Casillo, Danny Kass, Chris Prosser—basically, all the usual suspects.

And that’s not all. Yesterday, a family reunion. I have a small family, so I really wouldn’t know what goes on at these things, but being that it wasn’t my family (Lance’s, actually) it was so great to just kick back and watch everything unfold. All the faces, how you can see the family lines—the noses, the brow-line, the laugh—and all the relationships, both tense an easy. An awesome time for human observation.

Lance and his 13-year old half-brother Brittan, who is an absolute doll.

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