Nowhere, Nothing

I usually try to give some direction to this thing. Talk about something specific that’s made an impression on me. But work’s been cutting into my chill time lately, and while I can’t really complain, I can't focus, either. Too much time typing and not enough time living has a way of getting me down. I want to travel. I want to chop wood. I want to read twenty books at once. I want to bake French bread from scratch. But all in good time.

Anyway, apologies for a meandering post. Let’s see, stopped by the Baghdad for the premiere of the new Transworld movie Get Real and chatted up my old pals Joe Carlino and Evan Fever. It was good to see snowboarding up on the big screen—winter awesomeness executed to the time of  well-played tunes. Speaking of which, been listening to lots of Edwarde Sharpe and the Brian Jonestown Massacre ever since. Also, I liked Sammy Luebke’s part—all those silent powder descents, and Scott Stevens’ technical wizardry, the fellow's coordinated.

Evan and Rian, in red.

Lance punched a window (for fun, not for anger)—but you know how in the movies, they always wrap something around their fist beforehand? Well, he didn’t. Yikes. What else? Oh, we turned the heat on for the first time the other morning. I love that new heat smell—it’s like wood shavings meets toasted bread meets a memory of me curled up behind my parents’ woodstove eating Cheez-Its when I was six. Yeah, winter’s coming. It’s coming.

A strange gourd I procured on Sauvie Island. Photo: Lance

Cougs, riding dirty on Traci's motorbike.