Today is Spot Death Episode 2. I really like this one because it is basically unchanged since it was built in the 1970s. I would visit it any time I skated in Baltimore up until I gave up stair ollies in my mid-40s.

This is 100 South Charles Street. It was ringed with stairs ranging from the set pictured here to a huge 12-stair on the west side of the property. The south side had a fountain with banked outer walls that used to be fun to pop on and pop off.

This spot was a “transitory” spot. You wouldn’t session long and it was a good stop from one end of downtown to the other. The security was quite possibly the laziest in town so, if they did kick you out, they really didn’t mean it. The real hassle were the office workers themselves who absolutely hated skaters. They were the dads of the kids that would drive by and call us horrible things. I am sure of it.

The added bonus was that there was a Burger King in the lobby that was full of punk employees. They would give us breakfast sandwiches or burgers that had just timed out. We used to plan our stops there at 11:30 and 2:30 to maximize the free food chances. I wish I still had that constitution. Now, any fast food just tears me up.

Anyway, here is me throwing myself down those steps. See you at Part 3 later this week.

I was looking back over some old photos of me skateboarding in the 1980s and 1990s and decided to do a little project called Spot Death. What I will be trying to do it to match my favorite Baltimore skateboarding spots with a present-day photo of the same spot. I am sure some are long gone.

First up is an iconic spot for skaters of a certain age, Water Works. Water Works was an outdoor exhibit at the Baltimore Public Works Museum on the edge of Downtown Baltimore. The first session I had there was 1987. The front of the spot had a bank to wall. Wall rides were super hard because the lip of the bank was super wide. We usually just did smaller lip tricks here but had to be careful because your board could shoot out and end up in the harbor. No railing. A few people lost boards there.

To the left of the small wall bank was a bowled corner with brick coping and a spiral stair. We used to carve it for speed and occasionally mess with the lip. It was a little tight and falling wold put you face first on the stairs. Once you got it dialed in, it was super fun and we could spend hours there.

The rest of the layout had steep flat banks all the way around. There were places where you could go up the bank and around a trashcan or from a tall bank to a small bank. It was like the people who built it had us in mind. It was not uncommon for the place to get really busy with skaters from all over the city showing up.

We made it a regular stop until about 1992 when security and police got more aggressive and it was fenced in. By the late 1990s, most of the banks were removed except for the two banks on the north of the structure. They look to still be there today.

This is an excerpt of something I wrote a long time ago about the first Christmas after my father died. It illustrates the moment I decided I would be a skateboarder for life not because of the act of skateboarding but who skateboarders are as a whole.

“The cold weather settled in and we would still try to skate as much as we could. My Claus Grabke was starting to fall apart and I was saving for a new setup. It would be the first Christmas since my father died and I wasn’t in much of a holiday mood by the time Christmas rolled around. It was just before sunset when my mother, who had been so against my new hobby, called me into the kitchen in the basement of our row house on Linwood Avenue. She told me there was one other present for me and that it was in the closet. I looked behind the door and propped against the wall was a brand new baby blue G&S Billy Ruff Clown Puppet with Bat Rails, new Tracker trucks and new green Slime Balls. How did she know what to get?

I just hugged her. She said I should go try it out. It was the nicest thing anyone had ver done for me. I hugged her again and headed out into the cold December dusk.

I remember going to a curb at St. Brigid’s School at Fait and East Avenue where I was met by one of the local freestyle skateboarders, a guy named Bruce whose last name evades me to this day. He complemented my new setup and asked me if it was a Christmas present. I started to tell him that my mom had got it for me and that it was the first Christmas without my dad but I just broke down and cried. Bruce sat with me on that curb in the cold and just put his arm around me and let me let it out. It would not be the last time that the community of misfits and weirdos that are skaters would be there for me.

It was the best, worst Christmas I ever had.”

Since it has suddenly become winter, skateboarding sessions are rare. To pass the time I usually play guitar or read. Now that the kids are older I decided to see if they would want to try Dungeons and Dragons. To my absolute surprise they were absolutely excited and jumped in with both feet. My oldest decided to be an Elf Cleric and my youngest went with an Elf Thief. They are doing 100% pencil, paper, and dice while I do a combination since all of my map resources are digital.

We play a system that combines some really good ideas from 2nd Edition AD&D (proficiencies, specific saving throws) with the ease of 5th Edition character creation. I have dropped things like feats and embraced passive perception while allowing for more character building and spellcrafting. Combat is rare. It is really more of a character-driven game at its core. I hope to make a formal “rulebook” soon as the winter drags on for this method of play.

I have been building a world for over thirty years and have an extensive history created for it complete with maps of over fifty towns, a pantheon of gods, and a cast of characters from lowly barkeeps to kings of great empires. Since they chose Elves, I decided to start them in a special Elf Kingdom on one of the continents I have really not developed much with past gaming groups. This particular continent, Issen, is one of the largest on my map but, for whatever reason, I had not created much of a story for it so it gave me a chance to create something new. Needless to say, I have been busy in Wonderdraft updating my maps and adding towns, keeps, ruins, and even a new country.

The story starts in a small town, Grayvale, at crossroads of the Elf lands, a large mountain range, and a human kingdom hostile to outsiders and fearful of magic. I am over simplifying but that is the essential mood of this town. The Cleric is the new town novitiate charged with the upkeep of the shrine and the adjudication of civil law who shares responsibilities with a mayor who is almost always out of town on business. He has just arrived in town and is trying to find someone who can give him the keys to the shrine so he can setup shop as the old town priest has not been heard from for several months. It seems this order has a problem with priests walking away from assignments. My older son is playing this character so straight. He is a true believer and, even though my son is a popular extrovert, he is making his priest quiet, awkward, and pious while still showing the townspeople that he is a spiritual authority. Nice balance.

My younger son’s character, Oestend Riverfarmer, is passing through town after a stint as a crew member on a merchant ship. He tells the local innkeeper that he is in town to get supplies but he is carrying a secret that he is in town for way more than some bread and a new cloak. He has created a super rich backstory for his character that I still can’t believe a seven year old wrote. He looked over my world map and picked a city in the far west of this continent and asked me about it. I showed him the notes on the city. “Perfect”, he said, “I ran away from there”. He goes on to tell me this long story about how he ran away and how he encountered a skeleton in the mountains that told him he needed to go to Grayvale because it was the start of finding his destiny. He is also hiding his alignment. Lets just say he may not be one of the good guys. 



As with any good adventure, the Cleric and the Thief meet at the in just before the proverbial stuff hits the fan. Now, they are deep in the woods investigating the disappearance of the old priest and the apparent curse bestowed on the daughter of the innkeeper who also seems a bit mad herself. 

What has surprised me the most about running this game is how a-typical my boys are compared to the gamers I have played with in the past. They are COMPLETELY uninterested in taking risks. Everything they do is considered and cautious. They avoid the tropes of monsters, treasure, and glory and are operating with the best interest of the town in mind. They even walked away from an encounter that every player I know would have dove in 100%, a corpse in the woods wearing the same robe as the Cleric with a dagger nearby and a suspiciously missing head. The actually preserved the crime scene and evidence before returning to town to enlist more help. Wisdom over Monty Hall. It is keeping me on my toes and making me tell a much richer story and I am loving it.



All I can say is seeing these kids play is just magical. They are embracing their characters, making their own story, and shaping a world I thought only I could control. It is inspiring and reminds me exactly why I love this game.

My good friend over at Concrete Lunch sent me a very interesting article about de-branding and degrowth of one’s web presence and how it is more important than ever to embrace an older way of thinking about using the web as a way to share ideas instead of a way to build a persona.

I have been using some version of the internet since the days of CompuServe and BBS software. This predates Mosiac, AOL, and the World Wide Web. We got by on email, IRC, USEnet, and DOOR games. No one had a persona although we may have had handles. There was no clout. There was no like button. You sought out your people, made your clan of regulars and traded files, photos, and .txt. Eventually, we all learned HTML or found Geocities and webrings It was fun and still in the days before the Muggles came. Once they did, social media was the next logical step.

We slowly began to see our playground grow weeds.

The hype around “Web 2.0” brought money and control. Friendster, MySpace, and a young Facebook entered in the early 2000s. Flash video and terms like “Information Architect” took over web places. With the exception of maybe 2002 - 2007 and the early blogging years, the majority of the internet became a product. Soon, blogs became The Blogosphere and mainstream media, cults of personality, and persona writers took over that space. The little of the old web that was left was forced underground while the pablum of the Facebooks, Instagrams, and TikToks of the world took over and made the users their product and the algorithm their god.

We failed as early gatekeepers. We should have fought them.

Now, with the advent of Federated Services, we can reclaim our corner. We can take off the fake skins of brand and persona and re-embrace the small web. We can write and post and share without a shareholder meeting deciding to push us down the pecking order. The little I pay each month for this platform, micro.blog, and the joy I have in reading through what I see on Mastodon has spurred a creative resurgence in me. I am writing more, taking more photos of interesting things, making silly gaming maps, and musing about the things I love with the same energy I felt in those early web days.

I spend little time on mainstream social media these days except for NeverWas Skateboarding. I post “proof of life” on Instagram once in a blue moon. I avoid Muskspace like the plague and have no patience for the brain rot of TikTok. I fear that even the new kid on the block and press darling, Bluesky, is just a ticking time bomb before they get too big and greedy. Hopefully, I am wrong there. I am just happy keeping a minimal presence and curating heavily with a good dose of Posse (Publish (on your) Own Site, Syndicate Elsewhere).

We have not lost what we started. We found it again and maybe this time we can keep it.

There is nothing better for dealing with stress than creating a 2nd Edition D&D campaign that no one will ever play. Making maps and dungeons is really, really good therapy.

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.