Did what I needed to do today. Do what you have to do. Send the fascists packing.

One year ago today we finally made it back to the US after experiencing war up close and personal. One year of therapy, mixed emotions, new beginnings, and healing. It still feels so fresh but I am so thankful to be home. We were lucky. Here is a photo of our plane landing in DC after a long evacuation flight home.

Back at the end of September, I packed a bag and flew down to Austin for the 5th NeverWas Skateboarding StupidFest.

StupidFest can best be described as a family reunion of sorts where a bunch of old skaters from all over decide that spending time in sewers covered with fire ants and the occasional rattlesnake is the best way to spend time. The first Fest was held in 2018 and it has been going strong with the exception of 2020 and 2021 when the even was cancelled because of COVID.

In the five years StupidFest has happened skaters have travelled from Tennessee, Texas, Massachusetts, North Carolina, Georgia, Maryland, Kansas, Missouri, Indiana, New Mexico, Alabama, Mississippi, and Arkansas. We have had two skaters from Canada and one from The Netherlands. The video we do each year has had skaters from the above locations, seven additional American states, two additional Canadian provinces, Austria, Great Britain, and New Zealand. This was the eight year of the video.

What really sets The Fest apart from other skateboarding events is that it isn’t all about the skating while being EXACTLY all about the skating. I know that sounds confusing but, when compared to other skate festivals where the best skaters dominate or corporate interests set the tone, StupidFest is about the experience. You are just as likely to hear a shout for a kickflip over a ditch gap by a young shedder as you are to hear one for someone doing their first frontside kickturn in a ditch. It is about the collective experience of skating, the feeling, the intangible moment where something magic happens.

Even a person like me that has been skating for 38 years can have those moments. Prior to my first Fest in 2018, I had not skated many “real” ditches. I had skated a few back in the 1980s in Baltimore that are long gone and I have my secret ditch here at home. I had never skated a ditch that had parking blocks or hips the way Texas ditches are blessed. This year I skated a spot that has been around forever to Austin natives but it was a first trip for me. I had visited the spot before but it was too wet to skate so I have been thinking about it for three years. The spot is called Reef. It is a small, for Texas, ditch with three foot walls that aren’t too steep and a flat that isn’t too short. The far end of the ditch has a pyramid. Looking at it it seems so mellow. Like most Texas ditches, that is deceiving. This ditch will tear you up if you aren’t careful. It is rough and faster than it appears.

I had my eye on a line over the pyramid and up the larger wall where a parking block was set in between two other obstacles. Getting to and then on the block would be a delicate move. You had to get over the pyramid with just the right amount of speed to hit the block with enough force to grind it but not so much that you go pitched into the wave obstacle next to it. I fought with it for an hour before I figured out the line. Drop in, up and over the pyramid and, SCREECH, grind the curb and back into the ditch. The magic of Texas ditches is that once you figure out the line, you own it forever. You will rarely miss after getting it.

That feeling goes back to what makes StupidFest special. A backside 5-O on a small bank is a basic trick. It won’t get you a cover of Thrasher. It is a better skater’s setup trick for something “real”. Still, at the Fest, people saw me putting in the work. They cheered me on and, when I eventually got it, the cheer went up as it I did something amazing. Well, it was amazing. This shared moments of triumph as so rare in life and we get to celebrate them together. So many times over the weekend someone got to be the one who got the cheers. A frontside slash grind on a raw edge, a boneless at Sonic Ditch, a rock and roll at Scorpion, a slappy at StElmo, all small victories, all major victories.

After some consideration, we are most likely giving StupidFest a year or two off to refresh the scene a little. Austin has been an excellent host and we want to give back by letting people hold good memories before the Fest become routine or the special shine wears off. I know some people will be sad but there are a lot of things on the table that might be in its place this year. Still, I can say that some of the best times I have had on a skateboard are a result of playing in a sewer with my friends.

There is nothing better than counterfeit toys. “More than meet the eye” vs. “Vivid and great in style”. A clear winner emerges.

This is the kind off of access we all need in these contentious times.

207 days. That is how long it took for our stuff to get back to the States. All I know is my guitars and a bunch of skateboards are now safely docked in Savannah Harbor waiting to be unloaded. I should have them back next week. There is also a little boy here who will be thrilled to get his Legos back. Finally feeling like normal after so much upset.

Drove five hours to see a total eclipse for four minutes with ten minutes on either side and then drove five hours home. WORTH EVERY MINUTE OF IT.

Bad news from home. Thinking of Baltimore a lot today. Also, thinking of my friend Kenny and his family. Kenny took his own life from this bridge over twenty years ago. In a way, I hope this brings some closure to his family. A daily reminder of a place like that? I can’t imagine.

Submitted without comment.

I hate themeparks and have been stuck in them for a week now. That said, I will say getting to pull the hyperspace control from the cockpit of the Falcon was emotional. I fulfilled a childhood dream with that and had my son next to me for it. I have to say that was pretty freaking awesome.

Now witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational battle station!

I have lived in a hotel for over 100 days now. Here are the things I miss:

1. Real coffee: Hotel coffee is astoundingly bad. It is plentiful but usually either Star$s or some generic swill. I cannot wait to grind and savor some real bean juice very, very soon.
2. A bed: For a good 80% of these nights I have shared a pull-out couch with an 11 year old who moves all night long or, when he gets too punchy in his sleep, the floor. I miss beds so very much. The idea of sleeping in is like a fever dream.
3. Cooking: I really, really miss being in the kitchen. I am more than thankful that we have breakfast and five nights of dinner provided but even the healthy options are questionable. Just ask my waistline. I unpacked my pots and pans at the house on Friday and now just await a few more days until I can make myself some real, hot food.
4. Being able to poop in private: Yeah. No commentary needed. One bathroom for four people is just, well, crappy. I have become acquainted with so many lobby bathrooms at so many hotels that I now can list which ones have the best toilet paper. (Answer: ELEMENT Overland Park)
5. The Outside world: Hotels are pretty sound tight to the outside world. I miss birds and small animals. It gets too quiet.
6. Not having to talk to strangers: Every elevator ride is an exercise in anxiety for this introvert. Way too many “Great weather” or “Here for the convention?” TED Talks for me.

Here are the things I WILL miss

1. Room cleaning: I go to the lounge and when I re-appear the bed is made. The trash is out. The place smells good. That is so nice. I will have to jumpstart my domestic superpowers soon enough.
2. Lounges: Grabbing a green tea and some granola or a latte and some deviled eggs anytime day or night is pretty awesome. I have become spoiled that way. Props to Autumn and Di for being like a mom to me. They are saints.
3. Real dark nights: Hotels do light tight the right way. I have taken notes to do the same to the house. Sleeping in pitch black is super nice.

All said and done, I will be more than happy to get home full time. I miss my couch. I think it misses me.

Back on Micro.blog. Long story. Here is the short version:

137 days since we left the war. 248 days since we left home. Five countries. We are back in our house. Our stuff is somewhere near Italy right now but there is no place like home. Two of my favorite beings here soaking it in.

I played with poetry after seeing an image that really messed with me.

I woke up in my old room The smell of cigarette smoke The sound of traffic I had slept so long

And dreamed of nightmares and victories

I was here again in the past It had been a dream and I knew it Was it relief or fear I felt?

I cried.

I would miss only parts of the future But, in the now, I am free to try again And make it right At the expense of others not ever existing

Liminal Liberated

It was just a dream. I was the dreamer. I will sleep no more.

Look, I tried today. I went for a walk in my neighborhood hoping to find a Nazi to punch. I failed in that quest so I did the next best thing. I went and voted.

Punch a Nazi metaphorically. It feels good.

Vote!!

Then, reward yourself. Go skate.

Scene: A Suburban Community Somewhere in the Present-Day United States in the Early Fall

Brian: Hi Universe. I am on my own this week and the weather looks great. I think I will get some skating in before the cold, wet weather sets in.

Universe: Yeah, about that, here is RSV or as I like to call it, Respiratory syncytial virus. It usually only makes little babies sick but since you act like a child, let me fill your lungs up with snot so you might die okay?

Brian: Can we talk about this?

Universe: No. Fuck you.

Brian: hack

End Scene

Posting images of myself is not my favorite thing. I kind of skate like a gorilla looking for a toilet. I will say that this image got into my head.

This spot was unique because there was a long, downhill street that fed directly into the pocket corner of the ditch. I could go faster than I typically could just dropping in. I distinctly remember the sound of my bearing spinning and my wheels digging across the rough asphalt suddenly replaced by almost silence as I hit the smooth wall of the ditch. I felt the hot air on my face and the pull of gravity as I went through the carve. In that moment, I was 14 again. In that moment, skateboarding took me back to a place where my knees didn’t hurt and the responsibilities of the world had not fully made a home in the pit of my stomach.

I was free in that moment. More free than I had been in years. And there, in a sewer, skateboarding gave me a gift.

I was thinking the other day about the parallel lives of being a skateboarder from the 1980s to the present and being a computer nerd from the 1980s to the present.

Remember the world before the jocks and beautiful people took it over?

I do.

I remember skating when it was a good way to get your ass kicked. Now, there are influencers peddling performance plans to build core strength and monetize you “personal skate brand”.

I remember the early, freeform days of the internet people the “normals” were allowed in our sandbox. The days of z-modem, BBS software, and port conflicts.

We survived both takeovers. This baby blog here is a testament to the idea that we can be free of the corporate culture that threatens our shared history.

The idea of the freedoms of the past and how they relate to the constraints of the present will require more thought and I am sure it will become a theme. For now, I am just happy that I can write here and skate a curb. Simplicity over branding. That is our penicillin.

Looks to be my first post here.

Let’s talk skateboarding. Let’s talk art. Let’s talk about the things that motivate us and keep us moving forward.

For now, a photo will do. This is why we do this.