I have quite a bit on deck for today, but before I get into anything, I feel inspired to post this photo taken from Mike Monteiro’s Flickr set. I’m not a big fan of the game, but there ain’t a damn thing wrong with this;
Who woulda guessed that The King Of Metal likea’ da baseball?
In other news, while out and about on a recent bicycle related athletic pursuit, (that’s actually a lie. After over three weeks of profound bronchial congestion, I was really just in the woods coughing out my soul), I ran into none other than master frame builder John Caletti on the trails enjoying his own solo spin;
For the attentively observant among us, (is it possible to be both?) you can plainly see the bike that John is riding is the same one that back in May at the San Diego Custom Bicycle Show, I lovingly referred to as The Track Suit.
You’re also sure to notice the grim, blue haze in the background, and if you know anything about California you are aware that during the fall time, if we have more than two consecutive days of nice weather, fires seem to happen with alarming regularity. According to John however, this was simply a controlled burn which he just rode through the middle of without incident.
Suffice it to say, my attempts at clearing out the demons who have taken up residence within the confines of my lungs fell short of successful, and I spent the remainder of our time together sounding like a recently admitted patient in the T.B. ward.
As we continue on down this path, I am inspired to bring to your attention another quality example of art that doesn’t suck. This week’s offering comes to us from the hugely capable hands of a young man named Steve Seeley;
And just so you know, it wasn’t the following image that nestled him deep within the rotten confines of my heart;
Nor was it his furry saint series;
Or his high fiving super heros;
Believe it or not, it wasn’t even his heavy metal Skeletor;
Nope. As much as I am enamored with his particular brand of imagery, the piece that first caught my attention was in fact the first painting of his I ever saw. It was none other than Batman riding a bear;
Besides being a life long fan of Batman (with the exception of the Val Kilmer rendition), Steve’s regurgitation of pop culture coupled with the absurd is absolutely my cup of tea.
Secondly, I’ve come to realize that he and I are both showing simultaneously this coming February in Los Angeles (him in a fancy pants gallery, and me, most likely, in some random Chinese restaurant’s bathroom) so the time that I get to experience these in the flesh is coming soon.
In addition to that, any folks who might want to come and cram themselves inside of said bathroom with me are more than welcome.
As soon as I have details on the debacle, I will post the information here.
Or possibly here.
In news of ‘what I did, or didn’t do this weekend’, I did wake up with a roasted chicken dinner and several cans of beer in my skull on Sunday morning some 70 miles from my home. I didn’t make any haste in getting back for a cross race on one of my favorite courses, bar none. The sun was shining, and the dirt was tacky. The conditions were perfect for me to suck no more or no less than I usually do, but alas, the trip home was postponed for spending time with friends, and walking around a very sleepy and quiet downtown Oakland;
It’s one of my favorite places to be, and it never fails to provide me with some special gift or another;
Macaulay Culkinized for your protection.
But to back pedal a bit, the previous evening, my friend Jason and I made a quick trip to a nearby liquor store to pick up some supplies. Upon notifying me what I owed, I asked the somewhat grizzled young fellow behind the counter what his accent was, because to me, it sounded almost Cockney. Pausing for a second, he looked up and as he pointed at his mouth, very politely replied “uh, actually I just never lost my baby teeth, so I have another row behind these.” I slowly slid my parcel off the counter and said something along the lines of “Hm.. How about that?” and then quickly sidestepped out the door.
Ironically, this brought back a long buried memory of mentioning to a young woman that I liked her accent. In response she said, ‘thank you, but it’s just a speech impediment.” Apparently to my ears, a mouth full of teeth, or a forked tongue just sounds like an English brogue.
Apparently I need to travel more.
Anyway, as I was saying, I eventually made my way back home in time to catch the tail end of a slew of men’s races;
and the start of the women’s;
Photos courtesy of me.
I slapped a couple of hands, polished off a coldy that was hidden in my bag and made a safe retreat to my hideout.
All in all, this event was about as noteworthy as any race I’ve actually participated in, with the exception of my shins were less bloody on my departure.
Luckily for me, I hardly have to race at all anymore, as I have a growing band of people who look so good, I don’t actually have to. Case in point, Captain Frank Lazlo;
Photo by Corey Keizer
However as I mentioned, I have nearly exercised all of the demons out of my lungs, so it’s just a matter of time before the planets align and I too am riding around in disjointed circles, going nowhere fast.
Bearing witness to that might not be as exciting as watching paint dry, but it still has to beat the hell out of baseball.