If I wasn't driving my house to its new home this would probably be done tomorrow! "GTP"

                                                             30" x 40" oil on canvas

Random ass and new digs!

  I’m done gerkin’ in the dirtbox. I have had enough of livin’ on couches and squattin’ in people’s backyards. I’ma movin’ the Hamsteak to the Sub-Basement. Buildin’ , what I consider, my first “GTP” compound…a place to just kick it and go left on some psychotic creative tangent where I can see just how ‘left field’ I actually am.

  Everybody has the be all and end all as to what a person can be. Some people have the opinion that their opinion is what everybody should be. Fuck man, I have no clue what kind of person I what to be but I sure as fuck am damn close to being it.

  I scare the living shit out of myself when left to my own devices. I know I ain’t wired right. Give me enough leash and I’ll be humpin’ your Aunt Marges fat ankle before she puts down the Christmas pie.

         Before though was not the right time to let it get nutty but it might be the right time now. I paint, concern myself with my bike, watch my car fall apart, pay bills and try to keep the cupboard  in my truck of a home full…just like everybody else. I basically live at work so I might as well actually drive the house there and let things either spool up or just finally unspool as it takes its unrestrained course. I have no idea what the final outcome will be but all my crap is on the launch pad so I might as well hit the ‘go’ button and let the shitstorm splatter skyward.

  So tomorrow I put on my house slippers, jump in the driver’s seat and move the Hamsteak to the studio. Fuck it, it’s time to step on the loud pedal and get gone. All I need is a bike tank full of fuel, take a few minutes to unplug and hope there’s enough brakes to stop me when I get there.

  Upon arrival (no matter what condition we arrive in) I am officially living “between the grid” again. I won’t even have a legal fuckin’ address! Ta-lee-hoe…release the hounds!

  I’ve been trippin’ out pretty heavy on the work I’ve been plowin’ through and have been doin’ it non-stop for a minute or two. Tomorrow, however, is movin’ day. It will be cool startin’ my own gig again. I want to thank everyone who has lent me a couch or a little parcel of land for a bit but I think I’m done with it. I got an empire and an empire needs a kingdom. I’ll have mine, a place to put the kickstand down for a bit and huddle in for the winter. Come springtime though…I got bigger plans.   “GTP”

 

  

 

 

 

...dunner

                                                             More dunner then before

I've been waiting a long time to paint this one.

                                                          Not done 30" x40"

Tell me this...

  How bad does your life have to be to end it by your own hand? Aside from chronic, unmanageable pain what does it take to actually pull the trigger and send your grey matter splattering all over your brand news floral print wall paper? I would assume things have to be pretty bad to do it but fuck man people do that all the time.

  It was all the rage when this EMO thing started but those faggots view hard times a lot different than anyone that still has a pair. Sure it gives your girl pants wearin’ cronies something new to cry about but what good does it do you? “He killed himself to know that he was actually living.”…undoubtedly the stupidest comment I actually ever heard anyone say and they actually said it. Credit card cry babies have my whole hearted permission to rid the planet of themselves…they are granted a pass on tryin’ to muddle on and just punch your way through things, the rest of you don’t.

  Terrorist fucks and religious zealots do it with the intent on carrying out their Gods plan but if that’s the case your God is pretty stupid and you’re a dumb fuck for following his plan. 70 something virgins waiting for you on the other side…did you ever think of why they are still virgins?

   My assumption is that nobody wanted to fuck ‘em and that is a sure sign that when you get there you banquet of intact hymens will be far less then appealing. What if you got to the other side and someone like me was one of those virgins? Would you be happy then? Besides dumb luck and cold hard cash there is a chance I could still be one so think twice before you hit that little red button because if I was waiting… I’d fuck the shit out of you!

  I get periods of time when people are takin’ the easy way out in droves and in most of those cases I do my damndest to forget about their existence. There were a few unfortunate few that I still think about often but that is usually because I didn’t see it comin’. I will sit and ponder for hours what would have become of them if they just got past that patch of rough road.

  I bring this up again because I have thought about it often and even gone as far to put the barrel in my mouth only to reconsider my decision and wait it out. Inevitably within a few days I find myself in some kind of stellar situation that would have never occurred if my head was currently wall art. At that point it never seems like a good idea, years later I find myself very infrequently even toying with the idea. My life sucked hairy, homeless ass but now shit just ain’t that bad. Looking back all I had to do is fix things not end them.

  I’m not sitting here writing some kind of life enhancing, emotional crutch to keep you going through the hard times, if you are going to end it just do it, I could care less. I’m just askin’ how hard does life have to be to make all go away. I don’t get it. I suffer from serious depression problems and my actual life is a lot harder than it appears on paper but I just can’t get my head around dying because it seems  better…how that fuck can it be better, you’re fucking dead! Wouldn’t it just be better to get up and leave you current surroundings and see if things are better somewhere down the road? No? Then die you fuckstain!

  There are plenty of ways to die in normal situations…I ride a motorcycle, it will probably kill me eventually and that’s good enough for me! Besides, I might get laid again sometime and that in itself is worth gettin’ over things and movin’ on. Sweet ass and motorcycles…how bad can life be?  “GTP”

I'm turning into fuckin' Ghandi!

  On my way to the flat track races and half way to nowhere the battery on the Latowski cooked. I mean COOKED with bubbles, smoke and noxious fumes that take your breath away kind of cooked.  Dead on the side of the road...again.

   This time though there was no wave of ‘get back on the road’ panic. It wasn’t roadside fixable and with nowhere to get parts and no money to do it with I just settled into my current environment and waited for my $70 truck ride home, smoked a bowl and just relaxed. I was as content as if I was still on the road to the races. It was kind of weird excepting my state of affairs and not beating it with a stick.

   I mean what the fuck, I could be on the road headed to the races, at the studio workin’ or sittin’ on the side of the road on this beautiful night hangin’ out half baked waiting for a ride…it’s all the same to me, nothing life threatening so what’s the worry. The problem was a bad regulator (probably) and there wasn’t any way to properly diagnose the problem where I was and I wasn’t about to go to Phoenix and just start throwing parts at it so I was just as happy just to go home and carefully figure it out.

   My ride home didn’t cost anymore than if I made it to the races so I just got comfortable and enjoyed a nice buzz in the perfect canyon weather in which I was stuck. I had nothing to prove by making it to the races and I was completely comfortable in my current location with a full bottle of water and enough smokes to last me for a day or two so I just laid out a blanket and stared out the stars. No problems here…just a bike that was illin’…I’ve been here before…big deal.

  The days of people stoppin’ to help someone with a broken bike are passed and considering I probably knew more about the issue then the waving tools I’m glad they didn’t. No one stopped and as the morons floundered by with their 30” front wheeled bagger waving it would just be more of a buzz kill than if they stopped and tried to help. I had it covered and I was alone comfortably sprawled out next to my bike lookin’ into the abyss of the universe and thinking about the rest of my life. I was cool where I was at and anyplace else would be just as cool, I just happened to be here…and that didn’t seem to bother me at all this time.

  It’s strange how having a life beyond bikes makes situations like this palatable. I got a lot of good things going on right now and a fucked electrical component really doesn’t bother me too much. I have a winter coming up and my shit will be semi-organized so what’s to stress…sitting on the side of the road just gives you the opportunity to sort things out mentally and lately things are a lot clearer.

   I ain’t looking to ditch my home and studio just to have a non- running bike ruin it based on a motor that flat out wasn’t getting power to the plugs. Big deal, if I get it home I can take my time, diagnose the problem and in the mean time I can move my house to the Sub-Basement, paint and do a bit of wrenchin’ on the sled. At this point in the game that seemed real good…and it is.

  I laid back, lit a Marlboro and watched the smoke get carried away by the cool breeze that was barely noticeable before I exhaled. Not a moment passed that was ruined with that tinge of loneliness that usually spoils a moment like this. I was alone but not lonely.

   Plans change all the time and most of them you have no control over, this was one of those times and I was at home, next to my broken bike that broke in the perfect place to relax. Relaxation, that’s what my bike is these days, no matter the circumstances.

  So there I settled in for an hour or two just thinkin’ about the upcoming winter months. My focus was far from my fried bike as I shuffled through the things that will make MY compound a pleasant place to hunker down when the snow flies.

  There’s a stove to install, wood to gather, paintings to get done, writing to do, a car that needs some love and a Hamsteak to remodel. The bike will get done but for some reason it’s not at the top of the list…I am a biker but I am also becoming a bit more responsible when it comes to things that will make my small world a place that I want to be rather than a place to crash between my running around the country. I like what I am building.

  It sucks a bit but my bike deciding to be a little cantankerous last night was something of a pleasant expereince. I had time alone with nothing to do and no mental anguish beatin’ the fuck out of me. Bikes are the best but some of the funnest times are the ones that you don’t expect…like last night.

  Today I’m back in the Sub-Basement slappin’ paint on canvas again. I was supposed to be watchin’ XR750’s rip it up but I’m here instead, doin’ the other thing I love.

   I’ve been obsessed with the Latowski from day one and that was it, but now my quality of life is becoming just as acceptable as when I’m blastin’ towards the horizon, although it will never be a replacement. I’m diggin’ painting again and being able to just pile on the pigment without doing it  to gather what I can for the next ride is a nice break.

  Riding isn’t my only driving force these days. I am finding satisfaction in the rest of my life. I guess I’m slowin’ down a bit but I could give a fuck. I need the rest and gaining a little piece of mind is what I have been searching for anyway. Maybe I can ride just to ride. It would be nice to be on the bike and not running from things, even when there was nothing to run from. It’s just that easy, make an entire life that you enjoy and make it strange… just shy of a train wreck is a good place to start.

 

 

 

 

 

Let there be heat!

   When you are slingin’ paint hardcore you can never expect any of it if you plan it but if you take things slow everything will eventually come together. I was in a panic like a transvestite bride the day before her wedding night in fear of not being able to unload that charcoal of the boots in time to get a woodstove kit before my balls slithered into my pelvis to find warmth somewhere up in my kidney region.

  Heat has been a concern to me since all the groovy places in Arizona come equipped with a full blown, although reasonably short, cold season. It’s not only my own personal comfort that is a concern but the paintings that I seem to produce to justify my existence are cunts when it comes to sudden temperature changes. They’re finicky fuckers that require a fairly steady temperature to dry properly if they are to last for the long haul.  A sudden snap of cold can really put a hit on ‘em until they are COMPLETELY dry which seems like takes longer than the second coming of Christ!

  Welp, my buddy Long Jon is obsessed with the local want ads. Having coffee in the morning on the porch of the compound is like having a meal with a father that never puts the news paper down unless it’s to take a sip of coffee or spoon a forkful of swill into his mouth. I never understood his obsession until he gave me a holler about a wood stove going for next to nothing.

  I had done that charcoal of those boots to fund a dual 55 gallon drum woodstove kit. I didn’t have any takers on it although I had a ton of inquiries just nobody that would hit the ‘go’ button on the deal. The weather is already starting to cool down in the pines so, although the Hamsteak stays reasonably warm, the Sub-Basement has the potential to become a fuckin’ ice box. Between the care that needs to be taken on the drying of the paintings and my body that is just fucked in general workin’ in an ice cold shop is out of the question.

  Those are worries that are behind me now. I got me a wood stove that could heat an amphitheater. In a few days the Hamsteak will be parked temporarily next to the studio while I gut the interior and settle in to sling paint for the winter.

  Oh and the charcoal of those boots? I did that to get a wood stove and I ended up with both. This gave me the opportunity to give it away and I did to a good friend on a long trip who I saw checkin’ it out. I ain’t shit as far as businessmen go but fuck you…it made me happy.  Eat shit and die a slow and painful death…”GTP”